Stone Barrington 06-11

one Whitney Stanford.”
    “Never heard of him,” Stone said, then a light went on. “Unless…”

18
    LANCE’S SMOOTH BROW furrowed, for once. “Who are Billy Bob Barnstormer and Rodney Peeples?”
    “They are at least two of the names that a former client of mine has used.” Stone told him about the Google search.
    “And why do you think this fellow might also be Whitney Stanford?”
    “Just a hunch; tell me about Whitney Stanford.”
    Lance ordered a cappuccino and looked at his watch. “I don’t have a lot of time.”
    “You’ve got time to follow me around New York,” Stone said. “Come on, who is he? Maybe I can help.”
    “Whitney Stanford is an old-money New Yorker who runs a private investment firm.”
    “And why are you interested in him?”
    “Because his name has come up in connection with a possible sales transaction involving, shall we say, unusual goods to not very nice people.”
    “Lance, when you signed me on as a consultant, did you run a background check on me?”
    “Of course.”
    “And, as a result, do I have a security clearance?”

    “Purely as a matter of form, yes. You have a top-secret security clearance.”
    “Then why are you being so cagey with me about this guy? I’m trying to help you.”
    “What do you want to know?”
    “Have you ever seen him?”
    Lance produced a cell phone and pressed a single button. “Bring me the file folder on the front seat,” he said, then closed the phone. “No, I’ve never seen him, but I have a photograph.”
    “Now we’re getting somewhere. Just what is Stanford supposed to be selling, and to whom?”
    “A new kind of rifle-launched grenade, to an organization suspected of terrorist connections.”
    “This does not sound like my guy,” Stone said.
    “Why not?”
    “Because I think my guy is a garden-variety con man. Oh, and a murderer.”
    “Whom did he murder?”
    “A prostitute, and in my guest room.”
    “Stone, really, ” Lance said, wincing.
    “Don’t look at me like that; the guy came to me through Woodman and Weld, recommended by another of their clients.”
    “Which client?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Find out.”
    “Oh, and did I mention that the guy has stolen fifty grand from me?”
    “How?”
    Stone told him.
    Lance looked amused. “Let me get this straight: You took a bad check from this fellow, then refunded his money by cashier’s check?”
    “Don’t rub it in; that’s Dino’s job.”

    “How is dear old Dino?”
    “What’s the matter, aren’t you following him, too? Dino’s just fine.”
    A man in a business suit appeared, handed Lance a file folder and left.
    Lance opened the folder and handed Stone a photograph.
    It was of a gray-haired man in a business suit taken in what looked like the lobby of an expensive hotel.
    “That’s Billy Bob Barnstormer,” Stone said. “And Rodney Peeples. By the way, the Attorney General has an abiding interest in arresting Rodney Peeples.”
    “Why?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Then how do you know the AG wants him?”
    “Because the U.S. Attorney for New York hauled me in and asked me about him. I denied all knowledge, until I put one and one together, and now that adds up to three.”
    “This is all very queer.”
    “No queerer than your following one of your own people on a shopping trip. By the way, what are your people doing in an SUV with government plates? Aren’t you supposed to be spies? And if so, doesn’t that imply a certain stealth?”
    “It was all the motor pool had,” Lance said, looking annoyed. “Do you know how to find this Billy Bob character?”
    “He called me in the middle of last night, said he was in Maui, about to go on a cruise aboard a yacht. But I wouldn’t believe that any more than anything else he might tell me.”
    “Did he mention the name of the yacht?”
    “He said it was big, and that was it.”
    “Did you check your caller ID?”
    “Yes. It said, ‘not available.’ It could have been a cell phone; the connection sounded a little funny.”

    “This is all very annoying.”
    “What?”
    “This triple-identity thing with Stanford.”
    “Yes, well, criminals can sometimes be irritatingly difficult to catch.”
    “I don’t want to catch him; I want to track the sale of these grenades, then catch the buyers.”
    “Then it would annoy you, if the NYPD or the AG arrested him?”
    “It most certainly would. I’m going to have to take steps to see that that doesn’t happen.”
    “Good