Cut and Thrust (5 page)

S
tone walked into the living room, which was now well populated with guests, and the first person he saw was the vice president of the United States. Martin Stanton was a tall, athletically built man of about fifty, with dark hair going gray, wearing a perfectly tailored suit. He was engaged in conversation with Peter and Hattie, and his eyes flicked toward Stone as he entered the room.

Stone walked over to where they stood. “Oh, Dad,” Peter said, “have you met the vice president? The governor invited him to join us this evening.”

“I have not,” Stone said, extending a hand, “but I am very happy to.”

“I’ve heard so much about you, Stone,” Stanton said. “I believe you and Kate Lee are very good friends.”

“We are
just
good friends,” Stone replied, “in spite of what you may have heard.” Or spread around, Stone thought.

Stanton smiled broadly, revealing impossibly white teeth. “Of course,” he said with a little smirk.

“Will you excuse me for just a moment?” Stone asked. He had seen Charlene Joiner enter the house, and he wanted to be the first to greet her.

Her face lit up as she spotted him. Charlene was beautifully attired in a silk dress and very high heels, with just the right accents of jewelry. “Stone! How are you, sweetheart?”

“I’m extremely well,” Stone replied, “as you obviously are. Have you met my son and his girl?”

“I have,” she replied. “We’ve been discussing an interesting role in his next film.”

“And have you met the vice president?”

“No, but I’d like to.”

“Right this way,” Stone said, taking her elbow and propelling her across the room to where Stanton still stood with Peter and Hattie. “Vice President Stanton,” Stone said, “may I present my favorite actress, Ms. Charlene Joiner?”

Stone watched as something clicked on in Stanton’s eyes and his hand reached for Charlene’s. This was the lady-killer in action, and he was about to meet his match.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Peter said, “we have some guests to greet.”

“I’ll help,” Stone said, and moved away from the man and woman who were so obviously enchanted with each other. He followed Peter and Hattie toward the front door and saw Ann come in.

“Hello, there.” He kissed her.

“Oh, hello,” she replied. “I was nearby when Kate finished with her appointments, so I didn’t bother to call.”

“You didn’t need to,” Stone said, signaling a waiter and ordering them drinks.

“My God!” she said. “There’s Martin Stanton. I want to go and say hello.”

“No,” Stone said, taking her arm. “Not now. He is entirely engaged at the moment, and we don’t want to interrupt.”

She looked at him through narrowed eyes. “You are wicked.”

“They’re getting along so well, why interrupt them? Why don’t we go next door and see Ben’s house?” He led her out a door to a terrace and found a flagstone path to the house next door. Others were streaming down it as well. As they approached the house Stone saw Ben and Tessa chatting with Leo Goldman Jr., the CEO of Centurion Studios.

“Stone!” Leo shouted, then grabbed his hand.

“Good to see you, Leo. May I present Ann Keaton?”

“How do you do, Ms. Keaton?”

“Ann is deputy manager for Kate Lee’s campaign.”

“I know your name well from our donor lists, Mr. Goldman,” Ann said. “In fact, you’re on my list to call.”

Leo began slapping his pockets. “I seem to have forgotten my checkbook,” he said.

“That’s all right,” Ann said, “I’ll hunt you down later.”

“Seriously,” Leo said, “the check is literally in the mail.”

“I’ll alert the postal services.”

Stone and Ann progressed into Ben’s beautifully furnished house and found a pair of comfortable chairs.

“I didn’t see the governor,” Ann said. “He didn’t make it?”

“He did, inviting the vice president, too, and he has already moved on to his next engagement.”

“Then you didn’t get a chance to talk with him?”

“We had a very nice chat, and we understood each other perfectly. You heard that Senator Stockman died?”

“I had a call ten minutes ago.”

“Funniest thing happened as we were discussing how Stanton’s gifts would so well qualify him for a Senate seat. Seconds after the announcement on the six o’clock news, the governor’s phone rang, and guess who it was?”

“I’ve no doubt it was Marty.”

“Collins didn’t take the call—in fact, he turned off his phone.”

“Do you think he got your message?”

“Certainly he did. He’s a very astute young man, and without actually saying so, he let me know that if Stanton fails to get a majority of the delegates on the first ballot, he would be with Kate. I suggested that if Stanton knew he had the Senate seat for a backup, he might be easier to deal with at the convention.”

“And how did he react to that?”

“We were in perfect agreement. Of course, he didn’t say a word that would prevent him from giving the seat to someone else, or that he would support Kate if Stanton failed, but he intimated it, in the way that politicians do.”

“And how did Marty and Charlene Joiner happen to meet?”

“I will cheerfully take the blame for that one,” Stone replied. “I think they’re made for each other, now that Marty is functionally single again.”

“I said you were wicked, didn’t I?”

“You did, and I’m grateful for the compliment.”

“I hope Marty can’t contain himself and starts squiring Ms. Joiner around the city while everybody who is anybody in the party is in town.”

“It’s just the sort of brazen behavior that might help, isn’t it?”

“I long to see their photograph together on every front page.”

“Then we’ll have to take one, won’t we?” Stone said. “Or better, get Peter to.” He took out his phone and pressed a speed-dial button. “Peter? It’s your father. Would you be kind enough to take or have someone else take a photograph of the vice president nuzzling Charlene Joiner? It would be so nice to have as a souvenir. Thank you.” Stone hung up. “Consider it done.”

“And I know just who to e-mail it to,” Ann said, “for the maximum possible effect.”

S
tone and Ann had a look around Ben’s house, then returned to Peter’s.

“I got the photograph,” Peter said.

Stone gave him Ann’s e-mail address, then he looked around the room. “What happened to the veep and Charlene?”

“Gone,” Peter said. “I heard him tell an aide to call Spago for a table.”

“Very good,” Stone said.

“Very good indeed,” Ann said, as she dialed a number. “The VP and Charlene Joiner will be arriving at Spago shortly,” she said to whoever answered. “Greet them and e-mail me the shots.” She hung up.

“Who was that?”

“A photographer acquaintance of mine,” Ann said. “He hangs around outside chic spots, waiting for celebs to show. He also has two spotters cruising the ones where he can’t be and they communicate by cell phone and he rushes over on his motorcycle.”

“In that case, please hold Peter’s shots,” Stone said. “Maybe use them later if you really need them.”

“All right, I’ll save my ammo.”

A buffet table was operating now, and they served themselves dinner.

“I didn’t get any lunch today,” Ann said.

“Poor girl.”

“Kate ran me off my feet. She visited four caucuses, spoke at two luncheons, and went to three cocktail parties, and she was still making ’em laugh at the end. Now she has two dinners to attend, but she excused me.”

“Good Kate,” Stone said, digging into his paella. A waiter brought them glasses of wine. “Are you encouraged by how things are going?” he asked Ann.

“They’re going so well, it scares me,” she replied. “Something’s got to go wrong soon, and I hope it doesn’t sneak past me.”

“Not much gets past you,” Stone said.

“You’re catching on pretty quick, yourself,” she said. “You’ve managed to find out what’s on the governor’s mind and plant lascivious things in the veep’s head and it’s not even eight o’clock yet.”

They had just finished dinner when Immi Gotham turned up, causing heads to snap. She came and greeted Stone, who introduced her to Ann.

“We’re all looking forward to your performance at The Arrington,” Stone said.

“I’m looking forward to it, too,” she replied. “Hattie and I have been rehearsing.” Immi was stolen away by somebody.

“I like it out here,” Ann said. “The quality of celebrities is better than in New York, and when they turn up, they’re more relaxed. Hattie is a pianist?”

“A brilliant one. And a composer, too. She scores all of Peter’s films.”

“All two of them?”

“And more to come. He and Ben never stop working, and Leo Goldman is thrilled to have them on the Centurion lot. They’ve turned Vance Calder’s old cottage into their offices.” Calder, the late movie star, had been Peter’s stepfather.

“How old can Peter be? Twenty-five?”

“Not that old. The boy is a prodigy.”

“Does he get that from you?”

“No, and not from his mother, either. It must be some sort of genetic mutation.”

“And who are Billy and Betsy Burnett?”

“That one is difficult to explain,” Stone said. “Someday, when I’ve known you for forty or fifty years, I’ll tell you the whole story. Billy is a jack-of-all-trades who has become an associate producer with Peter and Ben. He knows more about everything than anyone I know. And anyone you know, too. He can fix anything, build anything, and fly airplanes—he’s been instructing Peter, Ben, and Hattie. And I wouldn’t want to have him for an enemy.”

“I like his wife, Betsy.”

“She handles Peter’s PR, schedules interviews, and makes his travel arrangements, among other things. She’s made herself invaluable in the production office.”

“You seem to have such a perfect life, Stone. Do you have any enemies?”

“Apparently I do,” Stone said. “Last year I got into it with some Russians, out of Paris, and I thought it had ended.”

“Hasn’t it?”

“It seems there is an unending supply of greedy Russians. Last year they wanted The Arrington. Next year, who knows?”

Ann looked at her watch. “I know it’s early, but I’m fading fast.”

“Do you have a car, or do you want to ride with me?”

“I was dropped off by a campaign car. I’m with you.”

They said their good nights and found The Arrington’s car waiting for them out front.

They had just pulled away from the house when Ann’s phone buzzed and she answered it. “Oh, look,” she said, showing Stone the phone. “Marty and Charlene in Hollywoodland!”

The sidewalk in front of Spago was choked with paparazzi, and Stanton and Charlene were elbowing their way through the mob, smiles fixed on their faces, apparently enjoying themselves.

“I guarantee you,” Ann said, “that picture will be on the front page of the
New York Post
tomorrow morning. And a lot of other rags, too.”

S
tone was having breakfast in bed with Ann the following morning when his phone rang. “Hello?”

“Stone, it’s Ed Eagle. How are you?”

“I’m very well, Ed, and it’s good to hear from you. Are you in Santa Fe?”

“No, I’m in L.A. for the convention. I’m a New Mexico delegate.”

“When did you get in?”

“Last night. We’re staying at Susannah’s place in Century Center—unless you can get me something at The Arrington.”

“Come and stay with me. I have an unoccupied guest room, and you haven’t seen my place since it was finished. Get here in time for lunch and we’ll catch up.”

“I’d love to. Susannah can’t make it until later—she’s having a beauty day at some spa or other.”

“Come at half past twelve. I’ll leave your name at the gate, but prepare for a thorough pat down from a security guard.”

“As long as she’s beautiful,” Ed said. “See you then.” He hung up.

“That was my friend Ed Eagle,” Stone said to Ann. “Do you know him?”

“He’s a New Mexico delegate. I’ve seen his name on the list. Who is he?”

“A remarkable man. He was born in Brooklyn to a Hasidic Jewish family and became a fanatical basketball player in high school. His family wouldn’t countenance his continuing his athletic career—they wanted him in the family diamond business—so he left the sect and got himself a basketball scholarship to Arizona State. By that time, he had grown to six feet seven inches tall. He was a great player, making all-American for three years, but he didn’t play pro ball—went to law school instead. Now he lives in Santa Fe, and he’s widely thought to be the best trial attorney west of the Mississippi.”

“I’ve read something about him. Somehow, I thought he was an Indian.”

“People thought that at ASU, too, and he never corrected them. It amuses him to just let people go on thinking it. Oh, and he’s married to the film actress Susannah Wilde.”

“She’s wonderful. I love her work!”

“He had an earlier wife, though, who turned out to be a real piece of work. Let me see if I can get her story straight—there’s a lot of it. Oh, yes, she’s from a Jewish family, too, and she was married to an important diamond merchant who was considerably older than she. Unfortunately, she formed an attachment to a boyfriend who had a criminal streak in him and a desire to hit it big. Using information he got from her, he walked into her husband’s New York offices and robbed the place of every stone in the safes. Something went wrong, and the boyfriend shot and killed her husband, then he beat it out of town without her.

“She cooperated with the police, and she was helpful in catching the guy, but she ended up doing a stretch at a women’s prison in Westchester County. Ed was up there on a case, met her, and was impressed. He told her when she got out to come to Santa Fe and he’d help her restart her life. She had a couple of years left on her sentence. To his surprise, she turned up a couple of months later, having gotten out on an early-release program, and the two of them hit it off. Pretty soon they were married, and he thought it was going okay, then one day he got a call from his broker saying that she had sold most of his stock portfolio and taken all of the considerable amount of cash he had there.”

“This is some story,” Ann said. “If I ever write my novel . . .”

“There’s more. He went to Mexico City and managed to get the bulk of his money back, then he put a couple of trackers on her to bring her back to the States. Meantime, she had killed a Mexican cop in Acapulco who had attacked her, and they got ahold of her before she could leave the country. She was sent to a women’s prison east of Acapulco and within a pretty short time she had escaped and somehow made her way back to the States, where she got arrested for another murder. She was tried and, while awaiting the verdict, she escaped from the courthouse and with the help of a friend decamped to a spa somewhere around Palm Springs. It was there, a few days later, that she learned she had been acquitted at trial. At this point, all they had against her was jailbreak, and she negotiated that down to a suspended sentence.”

“Is there more? I’m exhausted.”

“There’s more. She met and married a Silicon Valley entrepreneur who had made a billion in the electronics business. He got himself killed in a freeway accident and she inherited everything. Now she lives in San Francisco, married to a car salesman she bought a Bentley from, and she bought him the dealership. She’s also inherited a significant chunk of stock in Centurion Studios.

“But all this newfound wealth has not caused her to stop hating Ed Eagle. On two occasions, she’s hired hit men to kill him. Both attempts failed, but Ed lives with the knowledge that she could try again.”

“What’s her name?”

“She didn’t change it after leaving Ed—it’s still Barbara Eagle, as far as I know.”

“Holy shit! I know about her. She’s very big in half a dozen arts organizations in San Francisco, and she was a big Democratic contributor until someone uncovered her more unsavory aspects and Dick Collins stopped taking her money. Now she’s a big-time Republican contributor!”

“As far as I’m concerned,” Stone said, “they can have her.”

“I want to meet Ed Eagle,” Ann said.

“He’s coming to lunch here today. Can you shake free?”

“I can try. Twelve-thirty, did you say?”

“Out by the pool. Susannah won’t be there today, she’s spa-ing.”

“I’ll do what I can,” she said.

“I think you’ll like Ed—I know he’ll like you.”