Strategic Moves (27 page)

“Who?”

“I thought you wished not to bullshit each other,” Beck replied.

“And why do you believe I can arrange such a meeting, Aaron?”

“You arranged it for my friend Lance Cabot and his people,” Beck said.

“Just how good a friend are you to Mr. Cabot?” Stone asked.

“We have a cordial working relationship.”

“Then perhaps you should speak to Lance about arranging such a meeting.”

“Stone, I have reason to believe that you are not ethically obligated to seek Lance’s permission to arrange a meeting with Pablo.”

“Oh, are you and Mr. Estancia on a first-name basis, too?” Stone asked.

“We have had occasion to meet once or twice in the past.”

“Then why don’t you just ring him up? I’m sure you know how to get in touch with him.”

“Our usual line of communication is presently out of service,” Beck said. “Thus, my meeting with you.”

“Tell me, Aaron, why do you think Pablo would wish to see you?”

“As I said, we’ve met before and done business.”

“Was the business you have done with Pablo conducted to your satisfaction?” Stone asked.

“You might say that,” Beck replied.

“Is there some reason why you didn’t contact Pablo a short time ago when your line of communication was still serviceable?”

“Circumstances change all the time,” Beck said. “I didn’t need to speak to him at that time. Lance didn’t need to contact Pablo until he kidnapped him.”

Stone feigned surprise. “Did Lance tell you he kidnapped Pablo?”

Beck sighed. “I have more than one source of information.”

“Aaron,” Stone said, “do you wish to harm Pablo?”

“Of course not,” Beck replied.

“Do you wish to invite him to Israel for a chat?”

“I would be happy to extend such an invitation.”

“Do you wish to take him to Israel whether or not he wants to go?”

“Do you really believe we are so ham-fisted as that, Stone?”

Stone smiled. “I have formed the opinion that the Mossad will sometimes go to great lengths to achieve its ends. I am in mind of an assassination in an Arab country that made the news recently, involving numerous Mossad agents carrying stolen passports. On that occasion the Mossad was quite ham-fisted.”

“Let us not revisit the past,” Beck said, spreading his hands. “Why don’t we concentrate on the near future.”

“Why do you wish to speak to Pablo?”

“I’m afraid that my instructions do not allow me to impart that information to anyone but Pablo.”

Their lunch arrived.

“Suppose Pablo agreed to see you with his attorney present?” Stone asked.

“Stone, Pablo is not charged with any crime in Israel; why would he require an attorney?”

“He might require a witness,” Stone said. “And you might be less inclined to press an invitation to your country upon him if an American citizen was present and handcuffed to Pablo.”

“Handcuffed?”

“Metaphorically,” Stone replied. “Let’s get down to brass tacks. What have you to gain from Pablo by such a meeting, and what would Pablo have to gain from it?”

“We wish only to have the answers to some questions,” Beck said. “As for Pablo, he might gain freedom from our attentions in the future.”

“And how long might this conversation last?”

“I’m sure we could conclude it within the same time frame as his discussions with the CIA.”

“And where do you propose that this meeting take place?”

“Perhaps at the offices of our mission?”

“You are assuming that Pablo is still in this country.”

“Yes, but if he is back in Europe, his house in Switzerland would be a satisfactory meeting place.”

“Pablo found his conversations with Lance and his people to be very tiring,” Stone said. “I’m not sure he would wish to endure another such session. How about a nice chat on the phone?”

“I’m afraid I must insist on a face-to-face meeting,” Beck replied.

“Insist?” Stone asked. “And I thought this was going to be a friendly conversation.”

“Forgive my impertinence,” Beck said smoothly.

Stone put down his napkin and polished off his mind. “All I can do, Aaron, is deliver your kind invitation to Pablo, if I should happen to speak to him in the near future.”

“If?”

“I have no way of knowing if he will call again.” Stone stood up. “Thank you for a very good lunch,” he said. “I hope they don’t take it out of your pay.”

Beck looked pained. The two men shook hands, and Beck handed him a card, identifying him as the agricultural attaché to the Israeli UN Mission.

Stone walked back to his office and phoned Pablo.

“Yes?”

“It’s Stone. I’ve just had lunch with one Aaron Beck of the Mossad. Do you know him?”

“I do, but under a different name: Moishe Aarons. He is quite highly placed in the organization, and I’m surprised to hear that he is in this country.”

“He may have come here to see you,” Stone said. “He knows about your conversation with Lance and his people. He may even have heard about that from Lance himself.”

“Or possibly not,” Pablo replied. “Wherever there are Jews, Mr. Aarons has sources.”

“If you say so.”

“Why do you think he might have come to the United States to see me?”

“Because he was deeply interested in having a conversation with you, along the lines and depth of the one with Lance.”

Pablo snorted. “Tell him that if he has any questions of me, Lance is in a position to answer them.”

“I like that,” Stone said. “Did you make inquiries about why the Israelis might be interested in you?”

“My inquiries, though oblique, lead me to believe they may think I have sold arms to the Palestinians.”

“Ah.”

“You may tell Mr. Aarons the following,” Pablo said. “Quote: I have never knowingly sold arms or ammunition to any person or group representing the cause of the Palestinians. Unquote.”

“ ‘Knowingly’?”

“In my business identities can be . . . flexible, but I am usually aware of with whom I am dealing.”

“I will pass that on to him,” Stone said, “along with your suggestion of asking questions of Lance.”

“I hope that will be an end to it,” Pablo said.

“I hope so, too,” Stone replied. “I’ll let him stew for a while, then call him tomorrow. Goodbye, Pablo.”

“Goodbye, Stone.”

They both hung up.

Joan buzzed him. “A Mr. Herbert Fisher to see you,” she said.

Stone sighed. “Oh, all right, send him in.”

Herbie opened the door, let himself in, and sat down. “Hey, Stone.”

Stone noticed that he was wearing a cashmere tweed jacket, a custom-made shirt, and that he had, apparently, found a barber who disdained gel. “How are you, Herbie?”

“Troubled,” Herbie replied.

“What is troubling you, Herbie?”

“My wife.”

“Well, I tried to get you to do the prenup.”

“It’s not that—not exactly.”

“Then what is it?”

“You remember, we were supposed to go on a honeymoon in the islands?”

“Yes, I recall that.”

“She won’t go now.”

“Herbie, women—especially women as bright and strong-willed as Stephanie—have minds of their own, and they often change them. You will come to have much experience of this.”

Herbie shook his head. “It’s not the changing of her mind that worries me.”

“Unburden yourself, Herbie.”

“You remember the business about the disappearing billion dollars from the Gunn company?”

“How could I forget it?” Stone replied.

“And you remember that David was suspected of that?”

“Again, my recall of those events is perfect.”

“I’m beginning to think that it wasn’t David. I’m beginning to think it was Stephanie—or maybe Stephanie and David.”

Stone regarded Herbie for a moment. He did not appear to be delusional—indeed Herbie had appeared for some weeks now to be conducting himself entirely within the bounds of rationality, a sort of extended lucid interval. “What makes you think that, Herbie?”

“I’ve overheard snippets of telephone conversations; I’ve heard travel arrangements being made; I’ve heard mention of an island in the South Pacific called Attola.”

“I’ve heard something about that place, Herbie, but I can’t remember what.”

“It’s apparently a very posh place,” Herbie said, “and very far from anywhere.”

“Well, it sounds peaceful,” Stone said.

“It also has something to do with offshore banking,” Herbie said.

“Uh-oh,” Stone replied.

Stone regarded Herbie with some sympathy. “Herbie, have you invested all your money, all ten million, with the Gunn company?”

“Not all of it,” Herbie said. “Only seven million.”

“Who do you deal with over there?”

“With Jack Gunn,” Herbie said.

“All right, I’m going to try something; you just sit and listen.” Stone looked up the number of Gunn Investments and asked to speak to Jack Gunn. Somewhat to Stone’s surprise, Jack came on the line almost immediately.

“What can I do for you, Stone?”

“I’m calling on behalf of a client,” Stone said. “This is very sensitive, and I must ask you not to mention this to any of your colleagues.”

“All right. What is it?”

“Herbert Fisher is my client. He has seven million dollars invested with you, and he has gotten himself into some difficulties that I believe are temporary. He therefore wishes to withdraw all his funds immediately.”

Gunn was silent for a moment. “Does Stephanie know about this?”

“No, and Herbie is very anxious that she not know. It would be humiliating for him to have to explain it to her.”

“What do you mean by immediately?” Gunn asked.

“I mean right now.”

Again, a silence, then: “All right. I’ll cut a check. Tell Herbie he can pick it up from the receptionist in half an hour.”

“Thank you, Jack.”

“Stephanie tells me that you declined an opportunity to invest with us.”

“I’m very sorry about that, Jack, but circumstances have been difficult. I hope to have a resolution soon, and I hope I can invest with you at that time.”

“I’ll keep the opportunity open, then. Goodbye, Stone.”

Stone hung up. “Herbie, Jack is cutting you a check right now. Go over there in thirty minutes and pick it up from the receptionist. If Jack or anyone else there tries to discuss it with you, just tell them that you can’t talk, that you have to get to your bank immediately. Then take the check to the bank, get ahold of a senior officer, and ask him to clear the check immediately and deposit the funds in your account.”

“All right,” Herbie said. “Thanks, Stone.”

“Herbie, I’d like your permission to discuss this situation with a couple of people. It might help us find out exactly what’s going on.”

“All right, Stone, you have my permission. Now, I had better get over there and pick up that check.” He shook hands and hurried out.

Stone called Airship Transport in Newburgh, New York, and asked for the CEO.

“Holly Barker.”

“It’s Stone. How’s the world of international business?”

“Not as boring as I thought. Actually, Todd Bacon left the place in pretty good shape. The C-17 has been repaired, and we’re back in business. I may be able to get out of here and back to Langley pretty soon.”

“Good luck on that,” Stone said. “I need some information, and I hope you can help me.”

“You can ask,” she replied. “You know I can’t always answer.”

“Nothing like that. Have you ever heard of an island in the South Pacific called Attola?”

“Funny you should mention that,” Holly said. “I first heard about it last week.”

“Tell me what you can.”

“The way I hear it, this was a little fleabag of an atoll, something like twelve miles by five, the sort of place we spent thousands of lives to take from the Japanese during World War Two. It has a central, extinct volcano and some glorious beaches and has failed to attract tourists because its only runway was too short, and the government couldn’t afford to extend it.

“Last year, a consortium of half a dozen billionaires sort of bought the place.”

“Bought a country?”

“Pretty much. The place is run by an elected president and a legislature of twelve men, and they’ve sold most of the island, exclusive of the capital city, its only town, in return for a bundle of cash and an agreement to rebuild the capital and extend the runway. They now have a ten-thousand-foot runway and an airport terminal building, and jet fuel is available.”

“Let me guess: they have no extradition treaty with the United States.”

“Nor with
any
country,” Holly replied. “The new owners have also subdivided most of the island and have begun selling lots—minimum, five acres—and have funded a construction company to import building materials. They’ve almost completed a cushy new beach resort of about a hundred suites. And the construction company is already the island’s largest employer. They’ve adopted a building code and everything.”

“And—let me guess again—they’ve started a bank.”

“Sorry, I should have mentioned that; it was the first thing they did. It’s up and running and is a member in good standing of the world banking community.”

“And it offers numbered accounts and confidential services?”

“Exactly. It already has deposits of more than a billion dollars.”

“Does the IRS know about this?”

“Probably, but there’s nothing they can do about it. Attola has accepted no foreign aid from the United States, so we have no leverage there, short of invasion or blockade. I understand we would like to have a naval refueling station there for both aircraft and ships, so we’re being nice to them.”