41
Stone slept soundly until mid-morning, when Bob stuck a cold nose in his ear.
“What have you got against sleep?” he asked the dog, and got his answer from a floor-thumping tail. “You want to go out?”
Bob’s response was affirmative.
“Go see Gala.”
Bob did as he was told.
—
Stone was showered and shaved in time for lunch, then he made a call to the ranger who had investigated the bear earlier.
“I thought you were going to remove the bear,” he said to the man.
“We did. We anesthetized her, drove her up into the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, and left her there to regain consciousness. She was already stirring when we left her.”
“How about her cubs?”
“We never spotted them.”
“Well, I think she must have come back for them, because the dog went off in the middle of the night, and I found a large pile of scat behind the house. Are the cubs old enough to survive on their own?”
“Either she’s nursing them again, or they didn’t make it.”
“You want to have another shot at removing her?”
“I’ve got a new assignment that’s taking all my time.”
“Can I hire a private contractor to do the job?”
“If you know one, sure. All the guys I know would just kill her and the cubs, too.”
“I don’t want that.”
“There’s one other possibility that you should keep in mind.”
“What’s that?”
“This might not be the she-bear. It could be her mate, and he could be a lot harder to handle.”
“Uh-oh. What’s your best advice?”
“Two things. One, don’t leave any food outside, and bring your garbage cans indoors. I’ve already told your neighbors to do that.”
“What’s number two?”
“Move out.”
“For how long?”
“I wish I could tell you that—long enough for the bear to give up on finding food around the place, and who knows how long that is?”
Stone thanked the man and hung up, then he went into the bedroom, found Gala and reported his conversation with the ranger.
“So you want to go back to New York?”
“L.A. is closer. I’ve got an Arrington board meeting coming up out there in a few days—that might be long enough for the bear to forget about us.”
“I guess I can finish my screenplay in L.A.”
“I’ll give you the study at the house—you can avoid interruption there.”
She shrugged. “All right, but remember, Boris lives in L.A.”
“We’ll lie low—he won’t know we’re there.”
—
Before they took off, Stone called his son, Peter.
“Hi, Dad, you still in England?”
“No, I’m in Santa Fe, but I’ll be in L.A. tonight. Can you and Ben and the girls come to dinner?”
“I can. I’ll check with Ben.”
“Ask Billy Barnett and his wife, too.”
“All right.”
“Leave me a voice mail about how many to expect.”
“Will do. Seven o’clock all right?”
“Come at six for a drink.”
“Okay.”
They hung up.
—
Stone, Gala, and Bob landed at Santa Monica Airport at mid-afternoon and an Arrington car drove them to the hotel and home, to his house on the grounds. He got a message from Peter that there’d be six coming for dinner. He called his regular chef and gave her the news, then discussed a menu.
Everybody was there a little after six, and they had drinks beside the pool. When he had a chance, Stone sat down next to Billy Barnett, formerly Teddy Fay, in an earlier existence.
“I’ve been having some problems, Billy,” he said.
“I’ve read about some of them.”
“They’re continuing. I tried to get him deported, but my plan backfired. I had a visit in England from Lance Cabot, who warned me that Tirov was still a threat. Mike Freeman put some people around my house, and one of them ended up in the hospital. Mike advised me to get back to the States. We went to Gala’s place in Santa Fe, but we’ve had continuing bear problems there and we were advised to get out for a while. I’ve got a board meeting here in a couple of days, so this seemed like the best idea.”
“Does Tirov know you’re here?”
“Not that I’m aware of. It’s my intention to stay holed up here until after the meeting.”
“It sounds to me like Tirov is not going to be easy to discourage. Do you know what he wants?”
“Gala, I guess, but any sensible man would know that’s not going to happen.”
“Anything else?”
“Maybe me, dead.”
“That’s a serious problem and one that requires immediate attention.”
“I’m doing all I can.”
“Why don’t I have a word with him?”
“A word? What does that mean?”
“It means I’ll speak to him, see if he’ll listen to reason.”
“Why do you think that might work?”
“The man’s a bully. He has that reputation, anyway. Bullies are accustomed to being the aggressor, the dominator. They’re unaccustomed to being called on it.”
“And how do you call him on it?”
“By invading his space.”
“Do I want to know how this will happen?”
“No, you don’t.”
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.”
“Are you comfortable being the prey in this relationship?”
“Of course not.”
“That won’t change, unless Tirov is made to believe he should change his behavior.”
“I don’t want him dead, Billy.”
“I would, in your circumstances, but I understand your qualms. Perhaps we can solve this and still leave him less than dead.”
“What does ‘less than dead’ mean?”
“It’s one of those expressions that offers a broad latitude in results. Perhaps we can just cause him to be less comfortable in his skin.”
“I think I would be good with that.”
“Then consider it done.”