27
STONE AND DINO were enjoying a drink on their front porch when Stone’s cell phone buzzed. “Hello?”
“Stone, it’s Wally Millard.”
“Hey, Wally, how are you?”
“I’m okay, but I don’t think everybody else is.”
“What do you mean?”
“What’s this kid’s name you’re looking for?”
“Evan Keating.”
“That’s the one. I got a call from Manny White in Miami, and he was steamed, which isn’t unusual for Manny.”
“I guess not. What’s his problem?”
“Well, Manny doesn’t like to hear from people who want to have some dirty work done.”
“Okay. Who asked him to do what?”
“Somebody called him and hinted that he needed somebody hit.”
“I can see how that might steam Manny. Who was the caller?”
“He’s not positive, but he thinks it was the guy who hired him to find Keating.”
“He thinks it was Warren Keating?” Stone didn’t like the sound of this.
“That’s right, he wanted Manny to find his son. I passed it on to him after Eggers called me.”
“Why does he think it was Warren Keating?”
“He had an upper-class New England accent; Manny doesn’t get many calls from people who talk like George Plimpton. That’s who Manny said he talks like.”
“When you referred Keating to Manny, did you make the call, or did he?”
“I did.”
“Then how can Manny recognize his voice?”
“It was the accent. Manny can’t think of anybody else who would call him who has an accent like that. And George Plimpton is dead, God rest his soul.”
“Okay, I get all of that.”
“Did you find the Keating kid?”
“Yeah, but I’ve lost him again. Why?”
“Well, Manny cut the guy short, but after he hung up, it occurred to him that what might have been going on was that old Keating wanted young Keating taken out.”
“Given the circumstances,” Stone said, “that’s not an outrageous assumption, even though Manny’s evidence for it is pretty slim.”
“Manny always had good instincts,” Wally said. “I wouldn’t dismiss this out of hand, if you want the kid to stay alive.”
“I wouldn’t like to see anybody take a hit,” Stone said, “so I’ll try to find the kid and let him know what’s going on.”
“That’s all anybody can do,” Wally said. “Just tell the kid to watch his ass.”
“I’ll do that, if I can find him, Wally. Thanks for letting me know.”
Stone hung up and turned to Dino. “The short version: Somebody who sounds like George Plimpton called Manny White and intimated that he wanted somebody popped. Manny hung up on him, but he inferred—and I know this is a leap—that Warren Keating wants Evan dead.”
Dino thought about this for a minute. “The second part of that makes perfect sense, if you consider that a guy who is getting eight hundred mil in a business deal and who is supposed to share it with his father and son might want both of them dead.”
“Yeah, but what about the first part? He didn’t give Manny his name before Manny hung up on him.”
“Manny’s kind of weird like that. I remember a time when we had a robbery to deal with, and before Manny looked at any of the evidence, he named the perp. We all thought he was crazy, but he turned out to be right, and we would have saved a lot of man-hours if we had just busted the guy right away. So I think you should let Evan Keating know that something might be afoot.”
“I’d love to, Dino, but I don’t know where he is, and I don’t think we’re going to find him by puttering around the marinas in a Whaler.”
“Then we’ll have to find another way, won’t we?”
“Suggest one, please.”
“Didn’t Evan tell you he was going to buy a new cell phone?”
“Yes, but you can’t call information and get a cell phone number.”
“Maybe Bob Cantor can find it.”
Stone thought about this. Bob Cantor was a techie whom Stone had used for years for all sorts of electronic, computer and surveillance and phone problems. “Dino,” he said, “that is a very good idea.” Stone called Bob Cantor, got his voice mail and left a message.
“Dino, do you think Evan might really be in Miami? I mean, he did leave that as a forwarding address.”
“Who knows? I guess it’s possible.”
“I think I’m going to call Manny White.”
“This is going to be entertaining. Can I listen in?”
“Sure.” Stone called Manny White’s number and put the phone on speaker.
“Yeah?”
“Manny?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s Stone Barrington. Do you always answer the phone that way?”
“I do on my private line,” Manny said. “How’d you get this number?”
“You called my cell phone on this line. Did you get the hundred I sent you?”
“Yeah.”
“Would you like some more hundreds?”
“Maybe. How many and what for?”
“Five hundred to find Evan Keating again. I think he may be in Miami, maybe South Beach.”
“That’s going to run you at least a thousand,” Manny said. “I have to start from scratch.”
“Why? You’ve already done this once.”
“Yeah, but the agent I used is no longer available. I’ll have to start with a new one.”
“All right, Manny, start a new guy on the job, and call me when we get to a thousand, and I’ll decide whether I want to go further.”
“I’ll need five hundred up front,” Manny said.
“Manny, for old times’ sake, could you start right now? I’ll send the money today.”
“What old times’ sake? It’s not like you and me have got some kind of warm, fuzzy history.”
“Manny, we have the NYPD in common. That’s a basis to start on.”
“If you FedEx the money, I’ll have it first thing tomorrow.”
Stone sighed. “Give me the address.”