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“And what did he have to say about that?” the agent asked.
Stone shrugged. “I don’t suppose it would be a breach of attorney-client confidentiality if I told you he told me he cashed a check.”
“On what bank?”
“He didn’t mention its name.”
“And you think a bank would just give your client a million dollars in cash?”
; “After corroborating his balance, certainly.”
“Can you tell me how your client managed to include a single counterfeit fifty-dollar bill in a one-million-dollar payment to you?”
“That fifty-dollar bill was not in the cash my client gave me. He gave me only one-hundred-dollar bills.”
“Did you look through all the hundreds?”
“No, I did not.”
“So, it may have been among the cash he gave you?”
“If it was, it was a mistake of his bank,” Stone replied.
“And you don’t know which bank it was?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Would you mind if we asked your client?”
“Not as long as you don’t expect me to give you his name,” Stone replied. “That would be a breach of attorney-client confidentiality.”
“Mr. Barrington,” the man said, sighing. “We are agents of the federal government. As an officer of the court you are obliged to help us in our inquiries.”
“As long as they don’t involve a breach of client confidentiality, I’m happy to help you,” Stone replied.
“Could you do this, then: Could you call your client and ask him for the name and address of his bank?”
“I could…” Stone began.
“And for his permission to tell us?”
“Now that is something I could do,” Stone said. “Will you excuse me for a moment?”
“Of course.”
Stone walked to Joan’s office. “Will you please call Herbie Fisher and ask him for the name of his bank? Tell him the Secret Service would like to know.”
“You mean all that cash was counterfeit?”
“No, apparently only a single fifty-dollar bill was.”
“It was all in hundreds.”
“I told them that, but they were skeptical.”
Joan opened a desk drawer and pulled out a paper band. “There was one of these on each hundred-thousand-dollar bundle,” she said.
