Stuart Woods_Stone Barrington 21

not comfortable with either Pop or Pater, so it will have to be Dad.”
    Stone laughed. “I can live with that.”
    Stone walked Peter up to his room, and they hugged briefly, then parted for the night.
    Stone lay in bed feeling, suddenly, like a different person.

7
    S tone was still in bed, having breakfast and reading the Times, when Peter knocked and came into his room.
    “Good morning,” Stone said. “I thought you’d be sleeping late.”
    “I rarely sleep late,” Peter said. “I’ve already edited a scene of my film on my laptop.”
    “That’s industrious. Would you like some breakfast?”
    “I found the kitchen, and Helene made me some scrambled eggs.” Peter looked at the four paintings of New York scenes on Stone’s bedroom wall. “I like these pictures,” he said.
    “They were painted by your grandmother,” Stone replied. “She has work in the Metropolitan Museum, too, in the American Collection.”
    “I’m impressed,” Peter said, looking at them more closely.
    “What would you like to do today?”
    “I just talked to Ben. There’s a heist-film festival at some place called the Film Forum— The Killers, The Asphalt Jungle, like that. I thought we’d get in two or three this afternoon. Ben has never seen anything older than Finding Nemo .”
    Stone laughed. “You can educate him.”
    “Don’t worry,” Peter said, “he’ll love it. He’ll end up watching them on his cell phone. Mom won’t let me have a cell phone; she says I’d be talking on it all the time, instead of working or studying.”
    “Mothers are like that,” Stone said.
    “I’d better get back to work,” the boy said, then left.
    Stone picked up the phone and buzzed Joan.
    “Yes, boss?”
    “Will you go up to the Apple Store on Fifth at Fifty-ninth Street and buy an iPhone and an iPad, the high-end models?”
    “But you already have those things,” Joan said.
    “Yeah, but Peter doesn’t, and it’s his birthday soon.”
    “Oh, sure.”
    “Sign him up in the name of Peter Barrington, and make his age eighteen on the application, so there won’t be any problem. Use this house for his address and put it all on my Amex card.”
    “Will do.”
    “And get him some accessories, too; you know the sort of thing, and get it all gift wrapped.”
    “I’m on it. Hang on, the phone’s ringing.” She put him on hold and then came back. “It’s Seth Keener, Stephanie Fisher’s attorney.”
    “Got it,” Stone said. (He picked up the other line.) “Mr. Keener? Stone Barrington. I’m attorney to Herbert Fisher.”
    “Oh, good,” Keener said. “Has he signed the papers?”
    “No, and he’s not going to.”
    “He wants to stay married to Stephanie?”
    “He doesn’t want that, either, but he’s not going on record as an adulterer.”
    “Name his poison: Cruelty? Mental cruelty?”
    “Mr. Fisher will be the complainant and the cause will be abandonment—on her part. I don’t think she can argue with that.”
    Keener sighed. “I’ll put it to her.”
    “Are you in immediate touch with her?”
    “I can’t comment on that—attorney-client privilege.”
    “I suppose that applies, especially if she’s a fugitive from justice.”
    “I’ll ignore that. Send me the paperwork, and I’ll have a go. See you.”
    “Just a minute, we’re not finished,” Stone said. “There’s the issue of a financial settlement.”
    “Oh? What’s Mr. Fisher offering?”
    “He’s offering nothing,” Stone replied. “What will Mrs. Fisher offer?”
    “Are you kidding?”
    “Certainly not. I believe we’re both aware that Mrs. Fisher acquired substantial assets during the marriage. Whereas Mr. Fisher did not.”
    “If you’re talking about those nasty press reports of her looting the family firm, that’s all nonsense.”
    “Then why is she on the FBI’s most-wanted list, along with her brother?”
    “You know I can’t discuss that.”
    Stone suddenly had an idea. “We can avoid discussing that in court if Mrs. Fisher would be amenable to sharing some of her premarital assets instead.”
    “What did you have in mind, exactly?” Keener asked warily.
    “Well, I’m informed that Mrs. Fisher had a substantial account at her father’s firm. She won’t be needing that.”
    “That’s outrageous!” Keener said.
    “So is running off with the piggy bank,” Stone replied. “If you give it some thought, I think you’ll see that this is an easy way out for her.”
    “Send me the papers,”