Swimming to Catalina (Stone Barrington 4)

“In fact, I can help you buy nearly all, perhaps all of Centurion’s stock, including Louis Regenstein’s shares.”

“You amaze me, Mr. Barrington. How did you suddenly acquire all this influence?”

“I have replaced Billy O’Hara in Mr. Regenstein’s affections,” Stone said.

“That’s what I came to tell you, Oney,” Sturmack interjected. “Regenstein fired O’Hara yesterday, and I haven’t been able to find him.”

Stone had an idea. “You won’t find him,” he said.

“Why not?” Ippolito asked.

“Because Mr. O’Hara expired last night, during a conversation I was having with him. He’s where you believed me to be.”

“He’s dead?”

“Regrettably, yes.”

“And you killed him?”

“Not until he had told me everything he knew about you and your plans for Centurion—also about the murders of Vincent Mancuso and Manolo Lobianco.”

Ippolito thought about that for a moment, then he stood up, walked to the window, and beckoned for Stone to join him.

Stone walked over, stood next to Ippolito, and looked out at the view.

Ippolito put a hand on Stone’s shoulder and pointed. “There’s Centurion Studios,” he said, indicating a large mass of land and buildings a few miles away. “And over there is Century City, one of the most successful real estate developments in the history of Los Angeles. What I’m going to do is to build something twice as large and twice as valuable. It’s going to make billions of dollars over the next ten years or so, and a very select group of people are going to be allowed to participate in that. Is that what interests you, Mr. Barrington?”

“Yes,” Stone replied, “it is.” And as he spoke he saw something besides the view outside Ippolito’s window. He had changed his focus, because something much closer had caught his eye. He leaned slightly toward the window and concentrated. What he saw was, imbedded in the tinted glass, a screen of tiny wires, smaller than human hairs. He suddenly understood that the radio signal from the transmitter he wore was not going to be heard outside this office.

Ippolito returned to his seat and motioned for Stone to return to his.

“And I think I can tell you how you’re going to finance all this,” Stone said, mindful that the tape recorder in the heel of his other shoe was still operational.

“Please do,” Ippolito said.

“You’re somehow laundering—I haven’t quite figured out how—millions, perhaps billions of dollars in income from loan sharking, drugs, and probably casino skimming, considering Mr. Sturmack’s connections in Las Vegas, and you’re pumping it into Albacore, then using the laundered money for acquisitions like Centurion. How much more land have you bought up around the studio?”

“Oh, parcels amounting to around two hundred and fifty acres.”

“My God,” Sturmack said. “Don’t tell him things like that!”

“David, shut up, I’m talking,” Ippolito said. “Mr. Barrington is not going to reveal a word of this to anybody; it would not be in his best interests, would it, Mr. Barrington?”

“Not if you and I can come to an arrangement,” Stone said.

“Tell you what,” Ippolito said, standing. “David and I are going to a meeting that bears on our conversation. Why don’t you join us? You’ll learn a lot more about what we’re doing.”

For a moment Stone was alarmed, but he knew that Rick’s men and the feds, when they began receiving transmissions from his wire, would move with them. “I’d like that,” he said. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” Ippolito said. He pressed the buzzer under his desk again, and Tommy and Zip appeared. “Escort Mr. Barrington to transportation,” he said. “We’re all going together.”

“This way, Mr. Barrington,” Tommy said, indicating the side door.

Stone stood up and walked toward the door, followed by Ippolito and Sturmack. He was expecting a private elevator, but instead, the door led to a hallway, which led to a staircase going up. They were already on the top floor, and this did not seem like a good idea to Stone.

“Tell me,” he said to Ippolito as they walked up the stairs, “have the police ever gotten wind of what you’re up to?”

“Certainly not,” Ippolito said. They emerged onto the rooftop, where a helicopter was waiting, its blades beginning to turn.