The two men stopped. Stone waited until Williamson had left the room. “I’ve got something to say to you, Paul, and I want to say it to you in front of your attorney.”
“Do I have to listen to this, Ed?” Manning asked.
“Give Stone a minute, Paul.”
“First of all, the two million dollars will be wired into your trust account immediately, Ed.”
“Thank you, Stone.”
Stone removed a sheet of paper from his pocket. “And this is a release from the insurance company.”
Ginsky looked at it. “Why, this is dated …”
“Yes, it is,” Stone said.
Manning snatched the paper and read it. “You mean, I was already …”
“Yes, you were, Paul, but you’re not out of the woods yet.”
“What do you mean?” Ginsky asked.
“Ed, your client participated in four transactions in Virginia and Maryland a while back that you don’t know about and don’t want to know about. But I know about them, Paul, and I’m happy to tell you that you left a fingerprint on a note you handed somebody. I’ve never expected you to adhere voluntarily to the terms of the agreement you signed, so let’s just call this insurance.”
“It sounds a lot more like blackmail,” Ginsky said.
“That’s exactly what it is, Ed. Paul, if you ever so much as speak to Allison again,” Stone said, ignoring the attorney and speaking directly to his client, “one phone call will make you a fugitive again. On the other hand, if you keep your word, you’re in no jeopardy.”
“I don’t know what he’s talking about, Ed,” Manning said.
“Sure you do, Paul, and Ed shouldn’t know. But I know, and don’t you ever forget it. Ed, thanks for handling this so well. Paul, you can go fuck yourself.”
Stone turned and walked away.
52
STONE DROVE LIZ BACK TO THE YACHT, FEELING RELIEVED and relaxed for the first time since he had arrived in Palm Beach. His relief lasted only until he walked up the gangplank.
A short, stocky man with iron-gray hair, wearing slacks and some kind of Cuban or Filipino shirt, stood up from a chair, where he had been sitting next to Dino. “Are you Stone Barrington?” he asked.
“That’s right,” Stone replied.
The man didn’t offer his hand. “My name is Guido. A friend of yours sent me.” As he spoke, a puff breeze blew the loose shirt against his body, revealing the outline of a pistol at his waist.
It took Stone a second to register what the man had said and to interpret it. He looked at Dino questioningly.
“Yeah, that friend,” Dino said.
“Oh, sorry. What can I do for you, Guido?”
Guido looked around at the other people. “Can we talk?”
“Let’s go into the garden,” Stone said, leading the way off the yacht and to a bench among some flowers. “Okay,” he said, “tell me.”
“I’m here to bring the lady in question home.”
“All right,” Stone said.
“Where is she?”