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“No, I haven’t.”
“One day soon, let’s go out to Teterboro and take a little trip. I’ll let you fly left seat.”
“I’d love to do that.”
THEY FINISHED LUNCH, Hackett signed the check, and they walked a couple of blocks together.
“I’m sorry you won’t think of joining me full-time,” Hackett said, “but I will find some projects for you.”
“It might be politic to arrange things through Bill Eggers,” Stone said.
“Of course. By all means, let’s be politic.” He stopped, and they shook hands.
“Thank you for a very good and interesting lunch,” Stone said. “I’ll have Bill arrange a meeting for you.”
“I’ll look forward to it, Stone,” Hackett said. He turned and walked toward Fifty-seventh Street and his offices.
“Oh, Jim,” Stone called.
Hackett turned back. “Yes, Stone?”
“Something I meant to ask you: have you ever heard of a man named Stanley Whitestone?”
Hackett scratched his nose. “I have. He got cashiered out of MI6 some years back, dabbled in business with Lord Wight, I believe. Why do you ask?”
“I recently heard the name, and I was curious.”
“Would you like to meet him tomorrow?”
Stone sucked in a breath. “Yes, thank you, I would.”
“You’re in Turtle Bay, aren’t you?”
Stone gave him a card.
“I’ll pick you up at one tomorrow,” Hackett said. “You’ll be home by dinnertime.”
“Thanks, Jim.”
“Don’t mention it.” Hackett turned and walked away.
STONE WALKED A little farther, then took out his cell phone and called Eggers.
“Stone? How did it go?”
“I believe I made a little rain for you, Bill.”
“How so?”
“Hackett would like to meet with your best patents people about a business he owns, making armored private cars.”
“Sounds good,” Eggers said.
“It’s better than that,” Stone said. “Please him, and he’ll give you all of that company’s legal work. He says they paid their attorneys a couple of million last year.”
“Very good indeed, Stone. Did you and Hackett come to any sort of private arrangement?”
“No, we didn’t,” Stone replied. “He offered me some projects, and I asked him to arrange them through you.”
