“So now you’ll have him arrested?” Barker seemed thrilled at the prospect.
“No. I can’t prove he wasn’t on the airplane. His ticket was used, so his name appears on the manifest.”
“How about questioning the flight attendants? Surely, they would remember such a celebrity.”
“Not necessarily. Months have passed. The flight attendants might testify that they don’t remember seeing him, but they couldn’t credibly swear that he was not on the plane.”
“Hmmmm. I see your problem.”
“There’s something else. Sasha gave Harkness two million dollars to invest, and he was having trouble returning it.”
“Now that’s very interesting.”
“Yes, but again, I can’t prove it. The money seems to have been laundered through a Cayman Islands bank, so there’s no paper trail. The only person who could testify to the transaction is Sasha, and she’s not available – at least, not yet.”
“Not yet? You sound as if you think she might still be alive.”
Stone took Barker through his terminal velocity theory.
Barker looked doubtful. “That’s pretty farfetched, Stone. I think you’re grasping at straws.”
Stone took the note and the invitation from his pocket and put them on the table.
“Jesus H. Christ,” Barker said. He took out his glasses and examined the note carefully. “I’ve had a couple of letters from Sasha in the past, and that certainly looks like her handwriting.”
“An expert says it almost certainly is,” Stone said. “What’s more, her fingerprints were on the note.”
Barker forgot about his food. “Her fingerprints?”
“I kid you not.”
“Well, if Sasha is alive, and if you are having dinner with her on Saturday night, then you’ll soon have her testimony about Harkness.”
“If she’s alive, and if the dinner isn’t some sort of elaborate hoax perpetrated by some demented Sasha fan. I can’t depend on that to nail Harkness. I need your help.”
“I would be absolutely delighted,” Barker said, grinning. “Barron has never been one of my favorite people. What is it you want me to do?”
“I want you to invite him to be your first guest on your new television show.”
“And?”
Stone told him.
Barker chuckled as he listened. “I love it,” he said.
“That’s even better than writing about it in Vanity Fair, isn’t it?” Stone asked.
“Oh, I could do that, too,” Barker said, laughing. “Print all the details.” He laughed again. “You know, I’m going to see Barron this afternoon at a social event. I’ll corner him there and get him to agree to do the show. He’s never given personal interviews, you know.”
“I’d heard that. Now, Hi, it’s your turn. I want to know what you didn’t tell me about Sasha.”
Barker looked at Stone appraisingly. “I’ve underestimated you,” he said. “I wouldn’t have told anybody in a million years, but now you’ve trapped me.”
Stone sat back and waited.
“There is one promise I must extract from you,” Barker said.
“What’s that?”