Swimming to Catalina (Stone Barrington 4)

“You already did that—twice,” Dino pointed out.

“I cost him money, that’s all. I want to put the son of a bitch in prison forever.”

“All right,” Dino said, “if you have to do it, then do it.”

“Stone,” Rick said, “you don’t have to do this; I can call it off right now.”

“I want to do it,” Stone said. “Now both of you shut up and let’s get on with it.”

“Let me tell you the setup,” Rick said. “We’ve got a van parked across the street with a power company logo on it and a manhole open. The van is where all the radio equipment is. They’ll receive your signal, then amplify it and broadcast it to our hand-held radios, so everybody can hear you all the time. We’ve got two FBI SWAT teams in vans here in the garage; they’ve taken an elevator out of service, and it’s just sitting there, waiting to go straight to the top. We’ve got plainclothes people loitering near every security station in the bank, so that there’s no early warning to Ippolito’s suite that we’re on the way. We’ve got people sitting on David Sturmack and Martin Barone; we’ll bust them the minute you’re safe. Also, the feds have got search warrants for Safe Harbor and all its branches; also for Barone Financial and Albacore Fisheries, and we’ve got the bank examiners ready to roll the minute you’re out of the building.”

“Sounds good,” Stone said, then he pointed at something. “Look at that,” he said.

A Rolls-Royce convertible drove past and parked in a bay across from them; David Sturmack got out and went to the elevators.

“Maybe he’s going up to Ippolito’s office,” Rick said.

“Maybe he’s gonna cash a check,” Dino said.

“Wouldn’t it be sweet if you could get both of them talking?” Rick asked.

“I’ll do the best I can,” Stone said. He got out of the car and stamped both heels on the concrete floor. “Testing, testing,” he said.

Rick held up his radio. “Loud and clear. Good luck.”

“Yeah,” Dino said. “Good luck. I wish I was going with you.”

Stone started for the elevators. He had to wait a while, since one was out of service, but eventually he got into the car and pressed the top button, the twenty-fifth floor. The elevator stopped several times, taking on and discharging passengers, but by the time he reached the twenty-fifth, he was alone. “I’m here,” he said to the wire. He got off the elevator and walked into a large, plushly furnished reception room. David Sturmack was sitting in an armchair, flipping through an issue of Fortune magazine. He didn’t look up.

“May I help you?” the receptionist asked cordially.

“Yes, would you please tell Mr. Ippolito that…”

A buzzer rang. “Excuse me,” the receptionist said, picking up the phone. “Yes, sir, I’ll send him right in.” She turned to Sturmack. “Mr. Sturmack, Mr. Ippolito will see you now.”

Stone turned his back and coughed into his fist as Sturmack walked past, taking no notice of him. The receptionist pressed a button under her desktop, and Ippolito’s office door opened for Sturmack.

“Oh, there’s David,” Stone said to the receptionist with a smile, and started for the door. “I’m here for this meeting.”

The receptionist nodded and smiled.

Stone caught the door before it closed and stepped in behind Sturmack. Ippolito was sitting at his desk, his back to the door, talking on the phone. Sturmack still had not noticed that he had been followed into the office.

It was a large and handsomely designed room, with spectacular views over the city, all the way to the Pacific. It was an unusually clear day, free of smog. Sturmack walked to the desk and settled himself in a chair, his back to Stone. Stone walked over and took the chair beside him.

Sturmack glanced idly at Stone, then blanched and stood up, alarmed. Simultaneously, Ippolito hung up the phone and turned around. Stone made himself comfortable in the chair.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” he said.

Sturmack looked as though he were about to have a coronary, but Ippolito, though momentarily surprised, maintained his composure. “Sit down, David,” he said. He reached under the desktop and fiddled with something.

“Where did you come from?” Sturmack asked shakily.

“From the depths of the Pacific,” Stone said. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

Two men burst into the room from a side door, each with a gun in his hand.

“Search him,” Ippolito said, pointing to Stone.