57
STONE AND DINO BARELY MADE IT ON DECK IN TIME FOR lunch the following day. They had the afterdeck to themselves, and they had just finished their omelettesto themselves, and they had just finished their omelettes when two men in suits emerged from the house and made their way toward the yacht.
“Ten to one they’re FBI,” Dino said.
“No bet,” Stone replied. He knew how Dino hated FBI agents, and his own experience with them as a cop had not been wonderful.
“Nobody else looks quite like that. What the hell do they want?”
“I think we’re about to find out,” Stone said, as the two men came up the gangplank.
“Either one of you Lieutenant Dino Bacchetti of the NYPD?” one of them asked without preamble.
“Who wants to know?” Dino asked.
Both men whipped out ID.
“Wow, I’m impressed. I’m Bacchetti. Why are you disturbing my vacation?”
“We want to ask you some questions,” the first agent said.
“See me in my office in New York,” Dino said. “I’ll be back next week.”
“It’s in connection with a bank robbery in Arlington, Virginia, four years ago,” the man said.
“I didn’t do it,” Dino said, “and I can probably come up with an alibi.”
The man turned to Stone. “Who are you?” he demanded.
Stone started to reply, but Dino interrupted. “None of your fucking business,” he said. “Now get off my yacht.”
The agent looked around. “Yours, huh? Pretty fancy for a New York cop. I wonder what your Internal Affairs people would have to say about this.”
Dino began laughing, and so did Stone.
“What’s so funny?” the agent asked, annoyed.
“You be sure and mention my yacht to Internal Affairs,” Dino said. “I’d enjoy their reaction. Now, will you people go away?”
“Look,” the agent said, “maybe we got off on the wrong foot, here. My name is Miles, and this is my partner, Nevins. We’d really appreciate your help, Lieutenant Bacchetti.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Dino said expansively. “Have a seat.” He kicked chairs in the agents’ direction, and they both sat down.
“Can I get you something?” Dino asked, the generous host, now that he had brought the two men into line.
“No, thanks,” Miles said.
“What can I do for you?” Dino asked.
“A couple of days ago, your office in New York ran a match on some fingerprints in our computer.”
Dino said nothing.
“Isn’t that right?”
“If you say so. We probably run prints a dozen times a day.”
“You ran a set of prints that matched with a thumbprint we got from a note passed to a teller in a bank robbery in Virginia.”