Dishonorable Intentions (4 page)

S
tone woke the following morning as the butler brought the breakfast cart into his bedroom. He woke Gala gently, and they had the breakfast. Stone began to read the
New York Times
, and Gala started on the L.A. papers.

“Uh-oh,” she said.

“What's wrong?”

“Last night's incident made the papers, both the
Times
and the
Hollywood Reporter
.”

“Are the pieces accurate?”

“Entirely.”

“We can thank the Centurion press office for that.”

“The problem is, any factual account of last night's events will humiliate Boris.”

“Fine with me.”

“Not that he doesn't deserve the humiliation, it's just that he will react badly.”

“He seems to react badly to everything,” Stone observed.

“Everything but unqualified praise,” she admitted.

“Well, I don't see what I can do about that, except ignore him.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Do you have a suggestion for handling this?”

“That's the problem—there's no way to handle it. I mean, I don't think that Centurion is going to reverse its decision, do you?”

“Certainly not.”

“Then we'll just have to sit it out and hope he doesn't show his face around the hotel again.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“The
L. A. Times
piece refers to his being escorted out of the bar last week, after he insulted their film critic.”

“The head of security mentioned that. Did I tell you that I ordered him banned from the hotel grounds?”

“No, but what a good idea!”

“And Leo Goldman has banned him from Centurion, canceled his gate pass.”

The phone at bedside rang.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Barrington, there's a lady on the phone from an entertainment television show,
Hollywood Tonight
, who wishes to speak with you.”

“All right, put her through.” There was a click. “Mr. Barrington?”

“Yes?”

“This is Helen Carr at
Hollywood Tonight
.”

“Good morning, Ms. Carr.”

“I wonder if I could ask you a few questions about last night's incident at your home at the Arrington?”

“I'd rather not discuss it,” Stone said, “but the piece in the
Times
this morning was substantially accurate.”

“Mr. Tirov is saying that you pushed him into the swimming pool when he wasn't looking. Is that correct?”

“It is not. Mr. Tirov found his way into the pool without my assistance or that of anyone else, and there were numerous witnesses.”

“May I quote you on that?”

“Please do, and now I'd like to finish my breakfast.”

“Of course. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” He hung up the phone. “Now Tirov is saying I pushed him into the pool.”

“He would say that.”

Stone pushed away his tray. “I've got to get into the shower. Dino and I are playing golf at the Bel-Air Country Club, and we've got a ten o'clock tee time. What are your plans for the day?”

“I believe I'll stick close to home today. I'm sure Boris has found a way to blame me for last night, and I don't want to run into him.”

“I don't blame you a bit.”

—

S
hortly before ten o'clock that morning, Stone and Dino stood, waiting for a foursome to tee off ahead of them at the Bel-Air Country Club, when they were approached by a man wearing a suit.

“Mr. Barrington?”

“Yes?”

“My name is Martin Glock. I'm the chairman of the membership committee at the club.”

This didn't sound good, but Stone extended his hand. “How do you do, Mr. Glock?”

“Very well, thank you. We're aware that you've been playing here for a year or so as a guest of Leo Goldman at Centurion Studios.”

“That's correct.” I'm about to be kicked out of here, he thought. I smell Boris Tirov.

“Well, the membership committee met earlier this morning and elected three new members—yourself, your son, Peter, and his business partner, Ben Bacchetti. You'll be notified by mail, of course, but I wanted to take the opportunity to meet you and give you the news personally.”

Stone heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much, Mr. Glock, I'm delighted to hear it. May I introduce my guest? This is Dino Bacchetti, New York's police commissioner.”

The two men shook hands. “Welcome, Commissioner. We'd be delighted to have you at the club anytime.”

“Thank you, Mr. Glock.”

“Please call me Martin. I'm afraid I have other news that isn't so good,” Glock said.

“Oh?” Now what?

“The committee also considered the application of Mr. Boris Tirov, and he was declined, not least because of what we all read in the papers this morning. That, of course, is entirely confidential.”

“Of course,” Stone said. “I hope Mr. Tirov won't be given the impression that I had anything to do with his being declined.”

“Certainly not. In cases like this we never give a reason for declining. You gentlemen appear to be up for teeing off. I hope you have a pleasant round.”

“Thank you,” Stone said. He teed his shot, took a couple of practice swings, and sliced his drive a good ten yards into the rough.

“Ah, your maiden drive as a new member,” Dino said, teeing his ball. He took a practice swing and drove his shot even with Stone's but right down the center of the fairway.

They played the first nine and were making the turn when two large men made an appearance, apparently leaving their car in Stone Canyon Drive and coming through the high hedge.

“More members of the committee, come to congratulate you?” Dino asked.

“I doubt it,” Stone said, picking a club from his bag and
leaning on it. “I expect them to have Russian accents. Are you armed?”

Dino took his driver from his bag. “I am now.”

“You Barrington?” the larger of the two asked. His accent was, indeed, Russian.

“Yes, I am, and this is my dear friend, the police commissioner.”

The man looked at Dino and blinked. “That don't look like him.”

“I get that all the time,” Dino said.

“We got a message for you, Barrington,” the man said, unbuttoning his jacket, “from Boris Tirov.” He put his hand under his jacket.

“If that hand comes out with anything in it,” Stone said, “you're going to get a message from the edge of a steel sand wedge, in your teeth.” He displayed the implement for emphasis.

“And a driver, too,” Dino said, waggling his club.

The man's hand stopped, then came out empty. “Dis is de message from Boris—he gonna kick your ass.”

“Tell him,” Stone said, “that I wish him a continued lack of success in that effort. Oh, and you might tell him there's news from the membership committee of this golf club—he has been rejected as a member.” Stone smiled. “We just heard.”

“He ain't gonna like that message,” the man said.

“I hope not,” Stone replied. “Now get your ass back through
that hedge and out of here.” He took a step toward the man, sand wedge at the ready.

The two men fumbled their way through the hedge and, a moment later, were heard to drive away.

“I think,” Dino said, “you'd better start arming yourself with something more threatening than a sand wedge.”

S
tone and Dino finished their round and adjourned to the clubhouse bar for a sandwich.

Martin Glock was there and introduced them to a few other members, then he placed a key on the table. “Here's your locker key, Stone. I think you'll find it commodious enough for the commissioner's clubs, as well.”

“Thank you, Martin.”

“Oddly enough, I had a visit from Mr. Tirov while you were playing. Apparently, he had got wind of his rejection by the committee. I can't imagine how.”

“Bad news travels fast, I suppose.”

“Ah, yes. Mr. Tirov had to be assisted from the grounds—for the last time, I hope.”

“I hope so, too.”

“We've since heard that he's been barred from Centurion Studios and from the Arrington, as well.”

“I can confirm that,” Stone said.

“It seems the committee made the right decision. Good day, gentlemen.” He strolled away.

“Well,” Dino said, “if Boris was angry last night, imagine how he must be feeling right about now.”

“I've given enough thought to Mr. Tirov,” Stone said. “He is now officially barred from my mind.”

—

T
hey returned to the Arrington after lunch, and Stone excused himself for a swim. He got into his suit, grabbed a towel, and walked out to the pool, where he encountered the President of the United States happily swimming laps. He sat on the edge of the pool and waited for her to finish, while two Secret Service agents, a man and a woman, kept an eye on him.

Kate Lee pulled herself out of the pool and sat next to him. “I hope you don't mind my borrowing your pool. Mine was occupied. How are you, Stone?”

“I'm very well, thank you,” he replied, putting a towel around her shoulders. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Only a whim. Once in a while, I like to forget I'm a fairly new mother.”

“And how is the heir?”

“Having his afternoon nap,” she replied, “under the watchful eyes of a nanny and two Secret Service agents.”

“Can I get you anything? Lunch? Other refreshment?”

“No, I'm perfectly fine. Though, from what I read in this morning's papers, you are not. Who is this fellow Tirov?”

“A nuisance who used to be married to a friend of mine.”

“Those are the worst kind of nuisances, aren't they?”

“They are. And it's hard to meet a woman of a suitable age who doesn't have one lingering somewhere in the background.”

“I suppose it is. Still, you seem to manage in that arena. Seems I have a couple of trusted aides who used to help out.”

“You do. I suppose their country needed them more than I did.”

“That's a healthy way to look at it.”

“Why mope? It doesn't do any good.”

“By the way, I haven't thanked you personally for meeting with three of my candidates for the high court.”

“I was happy do so, and I quite liked two of them.”

“Yes, well, nobody liked the third very much. I've made my choice, which will be announced in a few days, and I don't think you'll be disappointed.”

“I'm sure I won't.”

“The court's first gay member.”

“That we know about.”

She laughed. “Quite right.” She got to her feet, toweling her hair. “Well, I've got a meeting with an important Japanese gentleman in a couple of hours. I suppose I'd better go let somebody do something with my hair.”

Stone got to his feet and gave her a peck on the cheek. “You'll knock him dead.”

“From your lips to God's ear,” she said, and strolled back toward her cottage.

—

B
efore Stone could get into the water, Gala arrived in a robe. “Who was that woman I saw you with?” she asked, shedding the robe.

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” he said.

“Was that really she?”

“It was. Seems somebody was using her pool.”

“I'll add her name to the list of people I've almost met.”

“We'll arrange a proper introduction on some other occasion.”

She dove into the pool, and Stone followed her, keeping pace with her laps. Soon they tired and got out.

“I'd like some lunch,” Gala said. “Join me?”

“Dino and I lunched at the Bel-Air.” He picked up a phone and handed it to her, and she ordered a club sandwich.

“By the way, I ran into the chairman of the membership committee while we were waiting to tee off and learned that Peter, Ben, and I have been elected to membership there.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you. We also learned that the committee had rejected Boris.”

“Oh, God, another blow to his ego. Can we all survive it?”

“We had a visit, in the middle of our round, from two Russian gentlemen bearing greetings from him.”

“Did anybody get hurt?”

“I threatened them with a sand wedge, and they went away.”

“Good.”

“And the membership chairman had a personal visit from Boris, which resulted in his being thrown out of the place.”

“Boris isn't having a very good week, is he?”

“No, he's not, and it's going to get worse, unless he learns to contain himself.”

“I wouldn't count on that,” she said. “Maybe today would be a good time to go back to Santa Fe.”

“Are you serious?”

“I am. Distance has always been the best tool when dealing with Boris.”

“I'm unaccustomed to running from my enemies.”

“You can put that on me. I can fly commercial, if you're not ready to leave.”

“If you'll go and pack now, we can be there for cocktails.”

She held his head in her hands and kissed him. “Thank you, my dear. I will feel ever so much better with every mile I can put between Boris and me.”

Stone dispatched her to get ready, then he called the airport and ordered fuel, got a weather briefing, and filed a flight plan.

Dino came out of the house. “I hear you're flying back to Santa Fe.”

“We are. Gala would like some distance between her and her ex.”

“Good idea.”

“Why don't you come with us? Spend a couple of days?”

“I think we will. When are we leaving?”

“In an hour?”

“Good.”