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Dino opened the pilot’s door, gave him the street map, and pointed out the house. “Put it down as close as you can get to the house.” He got into the passenger compartment with Rosie, and they put on headsets.
The chopper rose from the pad, turned out over the river, and gained a couple of thousand feet, then turned and flew over lower Manhattan. The view was spectacular. They crossed Brooklyn, got past the Verrazano Bridge, then followed the south Long Island waterfront east, toward the Hamptons. There was an overcast a few hundred feet above them, but as they flew, the sky cleared and the ocean shone beneath them.
“He’s going to be there, I know it,” Dino said.
“I’ve never flown in a helicopter before,” Rosie said.
Dino patted her on the knee. “They’re very, very dangerous,” he said.
48
Dink Brennan finished his breakfast, then went to his computer address books and began making calls. It took three before he got lucky.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Vanessa, it’s Dink.”
“Hey, Dink, how are you doing?” Her voice was bright and inviting.
“I’m doing great,” he said. “I don’t know if you heard about Parker and Carson, but they’re in rehab.”
“Yeah, I heard last night.”
“Best thing for them, really.”
“I can believe it. Last time I saw Carson she was mucho strung out.”
“What’s the name of that place they’re in?”
“I can’t think of it, but it’s that place up in Westchester.”
“Oh, yeah, The Refuge.”
“That’s it. When are you coming to town?”
“I’m in town. You want some dinner tonight?”
“Love to.”
“Come over here, and we’ll order in.” He gave her the address. “Say, seven?”
“See you then.”
Dink hung up and googled The Refuge, got the address and a map, then he put on a suit and tie, got his new briefcase, and went down to the garage for his car.
An hour later, Dink pulled into the parking lot next to a large colonial house set in several acres of meadow and woodland. There was no fence, as there had been at the farm, and only the windows on the third floor had security screens. He wondered if Parker and Carson were up there.
Dink walked into the marble-floored lobby and presented himself at the front desk. “Good morning,” he said, handing her Herb Fisher’s business card. “I’m Herbert Fisher, attorney for Parker Mosely, who is a guest here. I have an appointment to see him.”
The woman checked her computer. “I’m sorry, Mr. Fisher, but I don’t see an appointment here.”
“My secretary would
have made it for eleven o’clock.”
“Perhaps she didn’t call.”
“I’m going to have to speak to her about that,” Dink said. “May I see him without an appointment? I’ve driven up here from the city.”
