Cut and Thrust (21 page)

E
veryone gathered in the early evening for a drink in Stone’s living room. Hal Henry, an old Hollywood hand in his sixties, regaled them with stories of the town’s golden years and held them rapt. Then Dino and Viv arrived with their guests, who turned out to be the police commissioner of New York and his wife, Dorothy. Stone knew them well, and was happy to see them. They were almost ready to go in for dinner, when Fred came into the room. “Telephone call for Ms. Keaton,” he said.

“You can take it in the study,” Stone said. She knew the way. Everyone chatted for a bit, then Ann returned. “Ed,” she said, “you’ve gotten very lucky with
60 Minutes
: a segment they had planned to show this Sunday had to be held up while they sort out some legal problems and they were going to air a rerun, but the Pamela Hale interview from San Francisco came in and blew them away.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Hal said. “You don’t get on that show on short notice unless you have something special.”

“They’re doing a rough cut of the footage as we speak, and they want to come here tomorrow morning, show you the rough cut, then interview you on camera.”

“Fine with me,” Ed said.

“They’re going to make two segments of the two interviews,” Ann said. “The first segment will be softball questions from Pamela, allowing Barbara to get everything out of her system. That will be the interview her publicist wanted for her. The second segment will be taken from the last half of the interview, followed by the interview with you, Ed.”

Hal Henry was nearly beside himself. “This is going to drive Hugh Gordon crazy. We’ve been rivals for years, and now all I have to do is find a way to take credit for the whole thing.”

Everybody laughed. “I’ll see if I can get you a credit,” Ann said.

They went in to dinner, and the evening passed in good food, wine, and conversation. Stone reflected that he didn’t give enough dinner parties, and he resolved to have more guests in his home.

When the dessert dishes were being taken away, the commissioner cleared his throat loudly. “Stone,” he said, “may I have the floor for a moment?”

“Of course, Commissioner.”

“I have a couple of announcements to make: we’ve been a long time coming to this final decision, but tomorrow morning, on the steps outside City Hall, I’m going to announce my candidacy for the Democratic nomination for mayor of New York City.”

Applause from all.

“I had considered running as an independent, to avoid a crowded primary, but after consideration, and considering the quality of the field, we decided to enter. It will give us more airtime before the general election and, thus, an edge over the Republican candidate.”

“That’s great news, Commissioner,” Stone said.

“There’s a bit more,” the commissioner said. “At the press conference, I’ll also be announcing my resignation as commissioner, so that I can run full-time. Naturally, I have a great interest in who succeeds me, so today I had a meeting with the present mayor, also a good Democrat, and he has agreed to appoint Chief of Detectives Dino Bacchetti to the office of commissioner.”

More applause.

“Dino has always been an outstanding cop, dating back to the days when he had Stone for a partner to keep him out of trouble, then as a sergeant and a lieutenant, when he led the detective squad at the Nineteenth Precinct. Although he has been chief of detectives for only a fairly short time, he has proved adept not only at leading the city’s detectives, but in handling the more public side of the office. In short, he has been a big success as chief and my best appointment. And if I’m elected and he keeps his nose clean, I’ll reappoint him upon taking office.”

Fred, without being asked, suddenly reappeared with a magnum of Dom Pérignon from Stone’s cellar, and everyone drank to the old and new commissioners.

—

LATER, WHEN THE GUESTS
had gone or retired, Stone and Ann made love until exhausted.

“I’m sorry I can’t be here tomorrow to keep an eye on Ed’s interview with Morley Safer,” she said, “but that’s the sort of thing Hal Henry does every day, and he’ll see that Ed gets fair treatment.”

“Don’t worry about Ed,” Stone said. “He’s an old hand at this sort of thing, and the camera loves him.”

“I’m not surprised,” she replied. “Tomorrow, as I’ve said before, all hell breaks loose. I’ve got a meeting at eight
A.M.
where Kate’s campaign schedule will be finalized, barring last-minute changes, then we look at our first television ads, which were shot in New York yesterday and today. I’m very nervous about those.”

“The camera loves Kate, too,” Stone said.

“The TV campaign will break the day after the Republican convention ends. If Henry Carson gets the nomination, as seems fairly certain, he won’t have had time to get his TV campaign together, so we’ll have several days for our ads to run unopposed, as it were. Also, Kate is doing two of the network morning shows tomorrow and two the day after, then she goes quiet with the beginning of the Republican convention until the ad campaign breaks.”

“Sounds like you have everything under control,” Stone said.

“It may sound that way, but things can change in an hour, sometimes in a minute, so I will always be reorganizing.”

“No one does it better,” Stone said.

She turned and reached for him again. “That’s what I was just thinking about you.”

S
tone had an early breakfast at seven with Ann, who then dressed quickly and left for the campaign office. He read the
Times
and did the crossword, then dressed and got downstairs just in time to greet the
60 Minutes
crew. He showed them around the house while the Eagles and their party had breakfast in the kitchen, and the director chose Stone’s study as his set for taping the interview.

He stopped by the kitchen before going to his office. “Everybody sleep well?” he asked.

There was a chorus of positive answers.

“They said they’d be ready for you, Ed, at eleven sharp in my study. Knock it out of the park.”

“I’ll do my best,” Eagle said.

Stone went to his office and began returning phone calls and answering correspondence. Joan came in and turned on his TV. “Kate Lee’s commercial was on just a minute ago,” she said. “She’s on
Morning Joe
right now, so I’ll run it down for you.” She went into the DVR and rewound. “Here we go.”

Kate came on-screen in what appeared to be the study at the Carlyle apartment. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Kate Lee, and you may have heard that I’m the Democratic nominee for president.”

She continued talking conversationally, directing the viewer to her website for detailed policy information, while never breaking eye contact with the camera and not reading from a teleprompter. It was over in thirty seconds, leaving an impression of freshness, intelligence, and personal warmth.

“I’m convinced,” Stone said. “She’s got my vote.”

“Yeah, but you’re a pushover.”

“How about you?”

“Well, I’m a pushover, too, I guess. And if I weren’t, that ad would do it for me.”

Eagle came in. “Got a minute?”

“Sure.”

Ed dumped his long frame into a chair. “I just called Cessna, and I got lucky. They’ve got a Citation M2 coming off the line in a couple of weeks, and the buyer wants out. I can buy his position at a discount.”

“And you need an airplane, as I recall.”

“Yep. The insurance company has already seen what’s left of the Mustang, and it’s a total loss, so I get the hull value. The training course at FlightSafety in Wichita starts in a couple of weeks, too. You want to do it with me?”

“Why not? My airplane gets delivered the week after next. What’s the course, two weeks?”

“That’s it.”

“You’re on. Tell ’em to book me in the class with you, and I’ll get Joan to book us a big two-bedroom suite at the airport hotel. Is Susannah coming?”

“Yes, she is. She’s qualified to train for a copilot’s rating, and she’s looking forward to it.”

“That’s great, and when you get real old, you can swap seats.”

Joan came in. “They’re ready to show Ed the interview upstairs, then they’ll record his riposte.”

Ed disengaged from his chair and went upstairs.

—

BILLY BURNETT AWOKE
early in his San Francisco hotel. After his trip to Napa he had found a room that faced the Grosvenor apartment, and he had a nice view from a block away and one floor above them, with about a thirty-degree angle. He raised the blinds and trained his binoculars on the apartment’s terrace. The angle made it impossible to see into the living room, so he would just have to catch her outside. He had no idea what time she rose, so he would have breakfast facing her building and just wait to get sight of her.

—

BARBARA SLEPT PAST
her usual early hour for rising, and when she awoke, she was still rattled by the course the interview had taken. Hugh Gordon had told her not to worry, that he would sit down with Pamela Hale and see that the editing went their way. He was going to try for having the whole second part of the interview cut, but he admitted that was a bit of a stretch.

She got out of bed as Charles emerged from his dressing room in a suit, ready for his day.

“Good morning, my darling,” he said, offering a kiss on the forehead.

“Good morning,” she said listlessly.

He took her by the shoulders. “Now, you’re not still concerned about that interview, are you?”

“I’m still a little shaken,” she said.

“Nothing a buck’s fizz won’t fix.”

That was the British name for a mimosa, equal parts champagne and orange juice.

“Order me breakfast, will you? Just melon and coffee.”

“And a buck’s fizz?”

“Oh, all right, maybe it will help. I’ll be right out.”

—

BILLY HAD JUST
finished his breakfast when a movement on the Grosvenors’ terrace caught his eye. He trained the binoculars and saw a tall man in a good suit stride out onto the terrace. A maid came, handed him a newspaper, and spoke briefly with him.

Billy opened the briefcase containing the sniper’s rifle that he had built for himself. He assembled it, then unscrewed the head of a fat golf umbrella and shook out the thirty-six-inch barrel that he had made for longer shots. It took only a moment to screw it in place. He rolled the room service tray table into the hallway, put the
DO NOT DISTURB
sign out, and locked the door. He pulled a chair from the desk to the window, set up a short tripod, then screwed the silencer into the barrel and sat down.

He had not quite got set up when Barbara appeared on the terrace in a dressing gown.

—

BARBARA TOOK HER
seat opposite Charles, who looked up and smiled at her. For some reason, it annoyed her; he was always smiling at her or kissing her forehead or patting her ass in a proprietary way. She had found all this charming at first, but it had palled as the marriage wore on.

“Busy day today?” Charles asked.

“A board meeting and lunch at the museum,” she said. “I may develop a cold, I haven’t decided.”

“How will they ever get on without you there?”

“How will they ever paper over the cracks in their budget without my checkbook at the ready? That’s all they care about—certainly not my opinion.”

—

BILLY USED THE
telescopic sight, now. He checked a flag on top of her building and it hung slack. He got comfortable and set the rifle on the tripod. This was looking good.

He sighted, and discovered that at least three-quarters of Barbara was behind her husband; he waited for one of them to move.

—

BARBARA FINISHED
her melon. “I’m going to take my coffee and paper to bed,” she said. “I’m more comfortable there.” She got up and walked into the living room.

—

BILLY HAD NO
more than an instant for a shot at her, but she was moving, and a sheet of newspaper on the table suddenly blew off with a puff of wind. Then she was inside, carrying her coffee and newspaper. He had missed his opportunity.

“Shit,” he said aloud.

His cell phone began to ring, and he answered it. “This is Billy Burnett.”

“Good morning, Billy, it’s Peter. How are you feeling?”

“Much better, thank you, Peter.”

“We’ve got that casting session you set up at three this afternoon. Will you be here for it?”

Billy had nearly forgotten. “Yes, Peter, I’ll be there after lunch.”

“See you then.”

Billy hung up and began dismantling the rifle. This was going to have to wait, probably until after the weekend.