_Wednesday, April 8
3:22 P.M.
_
As Stone Aimes stepped off the elevator on the sixth floor, his mind
was running through his options. This phone call had to be about
Winston Bartlett. He was going to step up the pressure. First there was
the hellfire meeting in Jane's office, and now he'd seen a kidnapping.
Maybe this was about that. Was Jane going to pass along a threat of
legal action if that crime got reported?
The managing editor, Jay, had left a message with the third-floor
receptionist, Rhonda, to be forwarded to Stone. Gist: he was urgently
required in the office of their corporate counsel.
What does this tell me? he wondered. That they're going to try to do
something to me that could have legal ramifications?
No, more likely it means that I'm going to be given an ultimatum, maybe
an injunction. And Jane gets to deliver it with all the legal
trimmings.
Still, he was determined to go on. "You shall know the truth, and the
truth shall make you jive." Right? Well, not necessarily. But at the
least, the truth could make a hell of a book. And with that came
financial freedom, at least for a while. . . .
The hallway felt desolate and ominous as he walked through the doorway
that opened onto the cubicles. Jane Tully was down on the third floor,
but he wanted to stop by his desk first and see if there'd been any
further communications from Winston Bartlett. Possibly there still
could be a deal in the making
The room itself was silent, no one meeting his eye. Maybe, he thought,
it's the middle of the afternoon and everybody's dozing off from a late
lunch. But when he got to his cubicle, he realized why he had suddenly
become invisible. The top of his desk was bare, and there were three
large cardboard boxes sitting on the gray carpet next to it.
"I think I get the picture," he said to the empty space.
It looked like Winston Bartlett had just provided him with a career
decision. For a moment he felt his life passing before his eyes, but
then all he could think about was the future. This was not just the end
of a wage-slave era; it was the beginning of the next phase of his
life.
He saw everyone still avoiding his eyes as he turned around and walked
back to the elevator. How much did Jane know about this? She had to
know everything, which was why Jay sent him to see her. She would have
no qualms about giving someone the ax, including a former lover.
When he stepped off the elevator on the third floor, Rhonda looked at
him as though he were a corpse.
"She's--"
"I know she's here. Don't bother buzzing her."
He strode purposefully down the hallway, realizing it was probably the
last time he'd ever walk it, and pushed open Jane's door. She was on
the phone and looked up startled putting her hand over the mouthpiece.
"What--"
"Just came to say farewell. Jay told me to come see you. I
guess he was sure you'd want to be part of this important life moment."
"Stone, for God's sake"--she turned back to the phone--"let me . . . I'll
call you tomorrow." She slammed down the receiver. "You have to know I
had nothing to do with this. Bartlett got to the Family. I think it was
one of those noblesse oblige kind of things. Old Money meets New Money
and needs to placate it. The Sentinel is only marginally a profit-
making enterprise and the last thing they need is a lot of shit from
their landlord. He wanted you gone. And since your job was a small
price for them to pay to ensure domestic tranquility, do the math.
Sorry, but that's how it had to be. For God's sake, Stone, why did you
drive him to this?"
The ironic thing was, she was managing to look vaguely contrite--tugging
at a lock of short hair. He wasn't sure how she had the brass.
Apologies from the executioner are traditionally a tough sell.
"Let me tell you something, Jane. I already know more about Winston
Bartlett than he wants. He had somebody kidnapped today before my very
eyes. I even got slugged trying to stop it. So you can tell his lawyers
to tell him he'd better back off. The people who did it were recognized
and they work for him. If he wants to play tough, I could have a
heartfelt exchange with somebody I know very well at the Sixth
Precinct, and also with the tabloids, where I know a shitload of hungry
columnists. Winston Bartlett could get real famous, real fast"
"Stone, you brought this on yourself. I tried to warn you, but you're
hell-bent on your own destruction. You're your own worst enemy." She
picked up her Blackberry and switched it off and sighed. "You never
listened to me before and I don't expect you to do it now, but take
some free advice anyway: try not to piss off important people. It is
frequently a negative career move."
"Jane, you know John Kennedy once said, 'Sometimes party loyalty asks
too much,' and I think that moment for me, is
now. From here on, I'm going to be doing what I need to do, not what
Bartlett or Jay or whoever tells me to do. I guess that includes you
too. There comes a time when I have to do what's in my heart."
She was finally focusing, looking at him strangely. "Stone, what did
you just say? Bartlett had somebody kidnapped? Today? What on earth are
you talking about?"
"Did I secure your vagrant attention? Good. Actually, it was less than
an hour ago. There's no point in going into details, but I'm pretty
sure she was the patient terminated from the clinical trials at the
Dorian Institute that I had you ask Bartlett's lawyers about. I think
there's the possibility that something really weird began happening to
her out there in New Jersey. But I didn't get a chance to talk to her
because they grabbed her and took off."
"Well, what do you think happened to her out there?"
"The only thing I've heard and that's secondhand is that she lost some
part of her memory. She's even having trouble remembering her name."
"How do you know all this?" she asked staring at him. "Were you--?"
"I . . . know somebody who talked with her this morning. Just a few
short exchanges on the phone. That's all I can tell you. They're doing
something very powerful there at the institute, but in her case it
seems to have gone horribly wrong. That's my best guess. So they
dropped her from the clinical trials and gave her a new identity and
stashed her someplace incommunicado. But she got away for a couple of
hours, somehow, and managed to go back to her old apartment. In her
case, it's a Village town house. But Bartlett nabbed her back."
"If you really believe all that, Stone, shouldn't you be worried for
your own safety?" It was clear she was finally taking him seriously.
"Bartlett got me fired. That's probably enough for now. I don't know
enough to be a threat to him. Yet."
"But what if you find out . . . whatever it is you're looking for?
Then--"
"Then I'll know if medical miracles sometimes come with a strange
price."
She was looking at him, pity entering her dark eyes. "What are you
going to do for money? The child support you send to Amy?" She
hesitated. "I'm so sorry about this, Stone. If you need a little help
for the short term, I could--"
"Don't go there. I can take cash out on a couple of credit cards. And
when I turn in the manuscript for the book, I'll get the other two-
thirds of the advance. After that, I'm hoping I might get an actual
career."
"Oh, Stone, I'm really sorry about this," she said with feeling. "Truly
I am. I. . . I guess I still enjoy seeing you. Having you around.
You're a mensch, you know that? Whatever your other failings, and God
knows they're plenty, you were always kind. You're even kind to people
who don't necessarily wish you well."
"Well, tell that to Amy if you ever get the chance. Sometimes she
thinks her dad is the meanest guy alive. Particularly when I don't
honor her every whim."
"You're a good father too." She sighed.
For Stone, this was always the moment that he wanted her back--when she
let her guard down.
"Dammit, Stone, why couldn't we make a go of it?"
"We stopped having fun, Jane. That's all that happened. I started to
bore you. Back then I didn't provide enough excitement, enough Sturm
und Drang in your life."
"You weren't dull, Stone, but sometimes you could be maddeningly smug."
"That may be about to change. Now that I'm an unemployed freelancer.
And I just ran into a blast from the past. Who knows what my life is
about to be like?" He turned to leave. "By the way, give my best to
Jay. Hopefully, he'll be the last managing editor I'll ever have to
suck up to."
"Take care, Stone." She was getting up. "You can fight
this, you know. They had me write up some kind of bullshit breach-of-
contract brief, in case you wouldn't go quietly. But it's full of
holes. I know, since I deliberately wrote it that way."
"Hey, thanks anyway. It's not worth it. I'm not going to fight to keep
a job I never liked all that much in the first place. Every time I
wanted to do some serious journalism--like that piece about using the
Internet to store everybody's medical records--Jay always found a reason
not to run it. I've only got so much dignity to lose."
He turned and strode out of the office, deciding to forego any more
farewells. Besides, he had better things to do. Get somebody from the
mailroom to carry the boxes--the shards of his erstwhile, so-called
career--to the lobby, where he could get a cab. Take the files home,
stash them, and then get going.