Stone Barrington 27 - Doing Hard Time

you,” Stone said.
    They hung up.
    “Did you hear that?” Peter said.
    “Are you buying his Mustang?”
    “He’s giving it to me.”
    Billy laughed. “That’s a much better deal.”
    They talked about flight training in the Mustang for a few minutes, then Peter’s phone rang.
    “Hello?”
    “Congratulations, kiddo, you’ve just bought yourself a hangar. His attorney accepted our offer, after calling his client. He faxed me his ground lease with the airport, which runs another eighty-six years, which looks good, and we can wrap it up today.”
    “That’s great, Dad.”
    “And one of Mike Freeman’s pilots is available to fly your new Mustang out here. He’s waiting for my call after we’ve closed.”
    “Perfect.”
    “Livingston’s pilot is making a hundred grand a year, and with all the work he’s doing—servicing his airplanes, taking care of paperwork, training—he’s worth it. I think you should hire him.
    “I’ve pulled a boilerplate contract from our database, and after I’ve typed in the parties’ names and made a few small changes, I’ll fax it to you. Fax it back to both me and the lawyer and ask the bank to wire the funds to the lawyer, then we’ve closed. The bank will want you to fax them a letter.”
    “I’ll do it the moment I get the contract.” He saw Billy answer his cell phone, then leave the room. “Thanks, Dad.” He hung up and waited for Billy to return.
    •   •   •
    Teddy closed the door behind him. “Betsy?”
    “Yes. I’ve just had a phone call on the line at the apartment.”
    “Who has that number? I don’t even have it.”
    “A man named Harry Katz, who works for Pete Genaro.”
    “All right, start packing. I’ll be there in half an hour, and we’ll get out.”
    “No, no, Billy, we don’t have to move.” She began explaining what Katz had said. “For some reason, Pete wanted you to know that Majorov is coming to town.” She gave him Majorov’s ETA and the description of his airplane. “What are you going to do?”
    “I’m not convinced that Majorov is looking for me in L.A.,” Teddy said. “I’m going to look into it, though.”
    •   •   •
    Peter’s fax machine spat out the contracts. He looked them over, then signed them and faxed them back to the two numbers, then he wrote and printed a letter to his bank with the wiring instructions, asking for a confirmation when the funds hit the seller’s account. He called his father back.
    “We’re closed, Dad. Thanks so much for your help.”
    “Your Mustang will arrive at Santa Monica on Sunday afternoon, late. I’ve got the hangar number, and I’ll direct the pilot. Give him two thousand in cash and tell him to enjoy an evening in L.A. before flying back to New York.”
    Peter turned to see Billy returning to the room. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up.
    “We’ve closed on the hangar,” he said. “Dad says I should hire the pilot. What’s his name?”
    “Tim Peters.”
    “He makes a hundred grand a year now, and he does a lot for it. We can add flight instruction to his duties.”
    “I’ve just had a call about my airplane,” Teddy said. “I have to go out to Santa Monica and move it right now. I can hire the pilot for you, if you like.”
    “Great, do that. Tell him Ruth will send him an employment package next week, outlining the benefits and the health insurance. And you can put your airplane in the hangar. The Mustang arrives from New York late Sunday afternoon.”
    “Great. I’ll be back later. Is that all right?”
    “Sure, take the rest of the day off. Billy, I’m really excited about this.”
    “You’re going to enjoy the experience,” Teddy said. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning at eleven, in your hangar.” He told Peter how to find it, then he left and headed for Santa Monica Airport.

Teddy drove quickly to Santa Monica, got buzzed through the gate, and drove to the hangar. He walked inside to find Livingston’s jet gone and Tim Peters packing things into boxes.
    “Going somewhere?” Teddy asked.
    “Home, I guess. Livingston sold the hangar, and less than half an hour ago fired me and flew his airplane to Burbank.”
    “Did he give you any severance pay?”
    “A month. I’ve been with him five years.”
    “Put that in your pocket, then, and come to work for Peter Barrington.”
    Tim blinked. “Who’s he?”
    “My boss—a young film director and producer at Centurion Studios. He’s offering you a