Unnatural Acts (Stone Barrington 23)

“Yes,” Herbie replied, with a straight face.

“Can you take a couple of weeks off this summer?”

“I have some vacation time coming,” Herbie said, looking askance at Stone, who shrugged almost imperceptibly.

“Dink’s going to get out of Winwood Farm sometime this summer, and I’m sending him out to my ranch in Montana for a few weeks, before he starts at Yale again this fall. How’d you like to go with him?”

“Mr. Brennan, I’m a reasonably priced lawyer, but an expensive babysitter.”

Brennan laughed. “Dink doesn’t need a babysitter, he needs a friend. He spoke well of you when we talked this morning, said he’d like to get to know you better.”

“In that case I’d be delighted to visit Montana.”

“Good. I’ll let you know the dates later. Now, Herb, I understand you’re a senior associate and looking for some business of your own.”

“Both of those things are true,” Herbie said.

“I have a substantial investment in a start-up software company that I have high hopes for. They’re smart kids, but they need some adult supervision with legal matters, especially intellectual property. You know anything about that?”

“I do, sir, and by tomorrow morning I’ll know a lot more,” Herbie said.

Brennan handed Herbie a card. “This is the CEO. They’re housed in an old industrial building in SoHo. Drop in and see them, will you?”

Herbie looked at the card. “High Cotton Ideas,” he read. “I like the sound of that. Now, Mr. Brennan…”

“Please, it’s Marshall.”

“Marshall, I have some business for you, if you want it-a young lawyer with two million dollars to invest.”

“My bottom limit with clients is ten million,” Brennan said. “Who’s the young man?”

“I am he,” Herbie said, “and I’ll make it five million. That’s the best I can do.”

“Okay,” Brennan said. “My secretary will send you the documents, and you send me a check, then we’ll set about making you rich.”

“Thank you, Marshall. I’ll look forward to that.”

Brennan turned toward Stone. “How about you, Stone? From what I hear you’ve got money that needs to be put to work.”

Stone had thought about this before but hadn’t known how to approach Brennan. Word was, he was almost impossible to hire these days. “I’ll send you a check for twenty-five million of mine and ten million of my son’s. He’s at Yale, in the drama school.”

“You have his power of attorney?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll send you the paperwork this afternoon.”

Their food arrived, and they dug in.

After lunch, the three men walked out of the restaurant to find cabs.

“Herb,” Brennan said, looking him up and down, “you dress very well.”

“Thank you, Marshall.”

“I’m aware that I’m pretty much clueless about clothes. Would you take me on as a patient?”

“Of course.”