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Hot Mahogany (Stone Barrington 15)

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“You know,” Crow replied, “I was thinking we should have a reunion of the old band of thieves.”

“You in touch with them?”

“I could probably track them down,” Crow said.

“Any idea what they’re doing?”

“Well, Ab Kramer is a big deal in the stock market, filthy rich, too. He’s in The Wall Street Journal pretty often, does the odd appearance on CNBC, too. I’ve heard a rumor he might be the next secretary of the Treasury, if the Democrats hang on to the White House.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen the business news stuff about him; I didn’t know he had political connections, though.”

“Big fund-raiser for the Democrats, the bastard,” Crow said.

“I take it you’re a Republican, Charlie.”

“You bet your sweet ass; that’s where the money is, boy. You give, you get; that’s my policy.”

“What about Harry Collins, you seen him?”

“Funny, I saw him at the track not long ago, and at the hundred-dollar window, too.”

“Did you speak to him?”

“Nah.”

“Just like you didn’t speak to me at P. J. Clarke’s the other day.”

“Well, I just happened to be there for a drink; given our previous arrangement, I didn’t know if you’d want to talk.”

“Well, like you say, it’s been a long time. You ever see Ab?”

“Funny you should mention that; he kibitzed on a deal another guy at his firm did for us. He’s an investment banker, you know.”

“How about the Colonel, you ever hear anything about him?”

“Ab says he’s in the antiques business up in Connecticut. Ab has a place up there and said he ran into him.”

“Antiques? The Colonel? That doesn’t sound like him.”

“Well, you and him did okay in the gold coin business, remember? That’s antiques, sort of.”

“You still pissed off about not being in on that, Charlie?”

“Of course not,” Crow said, clapping Cantor on the forearm. “I’ve done real good; why should I care? Say, how did you spend your cut?”

“I bought a car and some clothes, bought a little apartment and put the rest in the stock market and left it there.”

“Good for you, Bobby! I guess you’re a rich man now, huh?”

“I’ve done okay. At least I don’t have to live on my pension.”

They had coffee, and the waiter brought the check. Crow paid it with a black American Express card.

“Well, Bob,” Crow said, “do I have your permission to arrange a class reunion?”

“What’d you have in mind?”

“I don’t know, maybe some good steaks and a few bottles of fine wine. You up for that?”



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