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“What do you think Terry Prince’s reaction will be when he hears?” Stein asked.
“Well, if our experience holds, he’s already heard about it, and we’re both still alive. Now that we own the shares, he has no reason for another attempt on Jim’s life, unless he just enjoys revenge.”
“I’m not taking any chances,” Harvey said. “I’ve doubled the security at Jim’s house.”
“Good move,” Stone said. His cell phone went off, and he checked it. “That’s Terry Prince,” he said.
“What are you going to say to him?” Stein asked.
“I’m not going to say anything to him,” Stone said, putting away his cell phone.
38
Stone stretched out on his bed after lunch and switched on the TV for something to lull him to sleep. The first image he saw was a car in flames, but what really caught his attention was the glass and steel house in the background.
A voiceover came on. “Early this morning the Malibu Fire Department answered a call to the beach home of film producer Jack Schmeltzer, whose new film, Window Shade, opened last weekend to record grosses.” A two-shot followed: a reporter and a fireman.
“Somebody apparently soaked a rag in gasoline, stuffed it into the fuel cap, and basically turned the car into a giant Molotov cocktail,” the fireman said. “It’s a pity; it was a classic 1950s Mercedes convertible.”
“Mr. Schmeltzer was unavailable for comment,” the reporter said.
Stone rewound the DVR to the beginning of the report and called Dino. “Come in here; there’s something I want you to see.”
Dino came into the room and took a chair. “Shoot.” He watched the news report, an expression of disbelief on his face. “It’s Prince at work,” he said. “At least he didn’t kill anybody this time. How is this going to affect your share count?”
“I don’t know,” Stone replied. “I guess it hinges on how scared Jack Schmeltzer is. I hope he’s just mad.”
“I would be,” Dino said.
“So would I, but I don’t know Schmeltzer.”
Stone’s phone rang. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Charlene; have you heard what happened at Jack Schmeltzer’s house?”
“I just saw it on TV.”
“Have you spoken to Jack?”
“I don’t even have his phone number,” Stone said.
“I don’t have his home number, either,” she said, “but you can reach him at Centurion.”
“I’ll call him,” Stone said. “Talk to you later.” He hung up, called the studio, and asked for Schmeltzer. A secretary put him on hold.
“Hello, Stone?”
“Yes, Jack; I just saw the TV news report.”
“Can you believe that son of a bitch?”
“No, I can’t.”
“I’d sue him, if I could prove he did it. That car just went through a ground-up, eight-month restoration, a hundred and forty grand’s worth.”
“Don’t do anything, Jack; just stick it to him at the stockholders’ meeting. That’s the best revenge.”
“You’re right. I’d like to punch him in the nose, but you’re right: that’s the way to get him.”
