Stone Barrington 06-11

Harvard.”

    “Well, that immediately disqualifies you, doesn’t it?”
    “Watch it. I’ll spread the word, and you’lll spend all your time in New York being given a hard time by old NYU Law grads.”
    “I’ll look forward to it. Now to business. I want to talk with you about a client of yours.”
    Not Billy Bob Barnstormer, Stone thought. Not already. “What client is that?”
    “Rodney Peeples.”
    “Rodney who?”
    “Peeples.”
    “Never heard of him.”
    “Come now, Stone; confirming that you represent him is not a breach of attorney-client confidentiality.”
    “I’m not being confidential, I’m being baffled,” Stone replied.
    Tiffany Baldwin sighed. “It’s going to be like that, is it?”
    “Like what, baffled? I am genuinely baffled. I have never heard of Rodney Peeples, and I suspect neither has anyone else, name like that.”
    “It does seem improbable, doesn’t it?”
    “My whole evening, so far, seems improbable,” Stone said. “Whose apartment is this?”
    “It belongs to the Ambassador to the United Nations; the Attorney General borrowed it for the event.”
    “The Attorney General is in there?” Stone asked, pointing at a door.
    “He is.”
    “I’d like to leave now; I don’t want to catch anything.”
    “What?”
    “I’m afraid that if I breathe the air I might leave here as a tight-assed, right-wing, fundamentalist, anti–civil libertarian with a propensity for singing gospel music. And I don’t think that’s treatable.”

    She laughed in spite of herself. “Come on,” she said, rising. “Let’s get out of here.”
    Stone stood up. “You’re afraid of catching it, too, aren’t you?”
    “Not a chance.”
    “Where are we going?” he asked, helping her into the mink coat from the sofa.
    “To the same party,” she said.
    “No kidding?”
    “No kidding. I may as well give you a lift.”
    “You’re just a party animal, aren’t you. Do you have another one after Woodman and Weld’s?”
    “My last party of the evening.”
    Stone grabbed his coat and followed her into the vestibule, where an FBI agent had the elevator door held open. They rode down in the elevator in silence, then got back into a waiting Lincoln, which was longer than the other one, while the two agents accompanying them got into a black SUV behind them.
    “I don’t think I’ve ever had this many chaperones on a date,” Stone said. “And armed, too.”
    “This isn’t a date,” she said. “It’s a coincidence.”

6
    TIFFANY BALDWIN pressed a button, and a glass partition between them and the driver slid up. “Okay,” she said, “it’s not a coincidence.”
    “Oh?”
    “Nope. I’m new in town, and I needed a date for this party, and I once saw you across a crowded room, and I figured, what the hell?”
    “I’m flattered. And is this Rodney Peeples fiction?”
    “Nope, he’s real, but elusive. We heard a rumor that you were involved with him, so it was a good excuse to call you.”
    They pulled up in front of the Four Seasons, and the doorman got the door.
    “Let’s leave our coats in the car,” Tiffany said. “Then we won’t have to stand in line for the coat-check room when we leave.”
    Stone tossed both coats and his hat into the rear seat and hustled her into the building, his teeth chattering. They climbed the big staircase and emerged into the Grill Room, which had been mostly cleared of tables so those present could drink and pump each other’s hands without bumping into the furniture. A string quartet was sawing away at some Mozart in a corner, and great quantities of food and drink were being consumed.
    Stone snagged two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, and they waded into the crowd.

    “Well,” Tiffany said, “this is a good introduction to New York City. I recognize a lot of faces here; how many of them do you know?”
    “Hardly any, except for the lawyers I run into in the hallowed halls of Woodman and Weld, but I recognize the same faces you do.” They were former cabinet members, politicians, a couple of United States senators, the mayor, the police commissioner and enough city councilmen, CEOs and movers and shakers that if laid end to end would reach somewhere into the northern regions of Central Park.
    Bill Eggers elbowed his way through the mob and, ignoring Stone, gave Tiffany a big hug and kiss. “Welcome home, kiddo,” he said.
    “Home?” Stone asked.
    “I interned at Woodman and Weld for two summers during law