Stuart Woods_Stone Barrington 21

his mind.”
    “Very well, I’m on the board of a very large, very able security company called Strategic Services. I can arrange for them to supply you with anything from a bodyguard to a fleet of black helicopters, bristling with air-to-ground missiles.”
    “Sounds good. Let’s talk to them about something at the low end of that range.”
    “I’ll get right on it,” Stone said, then hung up and dialed Mike Freeman.
    “Yes, Stone?”
    “Mike, I have a small security job for you.”
    “How small?”
    “Two armed men, round the clock?”
    “Tell me about it.”
    “A client of mine, a wealthy young man named Herbert Fisher, a law student, is attempting to disentangle himself from a poor decision called marriage. Although his wife has agreed to the terms of the divorce, she appears to be having him followed by two men who, on one occasion, have driven him off a yacht at knifepoint into New York Harbor. They’re still on him.”
    “Is Mr. Fisher presently operating as a single man?”
    “Yes, he likes women.”
    “Then I have an idea,” Mike said, and told him about it.
    “I think he would be very pleased,” Stone said.
    “Eight o’clock tonight be a good starting time?”
    “Yes, and I think it might be useful if your two men at some point had a conversation with the two sinister men regarding their intentions.”
    “Of course. Tell Mr. Fisher to expect three operatives at eight o’clock this evening. They will identify themselves properly.”
    “Thank you so much, Mike.” Stone hung up and called Herbie. “What are your plans for the evening, Herbie?”
    “I was going to go to Elaine’s for dinner, but I don’t want to leave the house, so I’m just going to order in.”
    “Reschedule,” Stone said, “and don’t bother getting a date, just be ready at eight.” Stone hung up.
     
     
    Arrington and Peter bustled in from Radio City, shaking snow off their coats and rubbing their red cheeks. “I need a drink,” Arrington said.
    “Right this way,” Stone replied, leading them to his study. He poured Knob Creeks for them, then made a hot cup of tea and honey for Peter. They all sat down.
    “How was the show?” Stone asked.
    “Spectacular!” Peter replied. “They even had three-D! And the Rockettes, wow!”
    “There’s an old Jack Douglas story,” Stone said, “—he was a comedy writer for The Tonight Show —about a young couple who went to Radio City Music Hall on their honeymoon, and during the stage show, the young man got up to go to the men’s room, took a wrong turn, and was kicked to death by the Rockettes.”
    Peter collapsed in laughter; it took Arrington a moment to get it, then she laughed, too.
    “I’m going to tell all my friends that happened when we were there,” Peter said.
    “Always attribute,” Stone replied. “It’s good manners.”
    “Will you take us to Elaine’s tonight?” Arrington asked. “Peter is dying to go.”
    “Of course.” Stone picked up the phone and made the reservation.
    “We have some news,” Arrington said, glancing at Peter, who smiled broadly.
    “What is it?” Stone asked, puzzled.
    “You are looking at the most recent high school graduate of Peter’s school,” she said, pointing at her son.
    “I don’t understand.”
    “I had a call this afternoon from his headmaster. Peter neglected to tell me that he had a major oral examination just before the holidays.”
    “It was more like a conversation with half a dozen faculty members,” Peter said, looking sheepish.
    “I think that’s how they meant it to seem,” Arrington said. “Apparently, there was some concern among the faculty about Peter’s advanced state in all his courses, so they decided to test in depth his knowledge and comprehension of the high school curriculum. Long story short, he knocked the oral out of the park, and as a result they agreed, after he left, that the school had nothing further to offer him of any value. So, they have issued him a high school diploma, with honors, and recommended that he either be privately tutored or attend a good university with a program for exceptional students.”
    “Congratulations, Peter,” Stone said, clapping him on the back.
    “Well, it would have been boring to spend the rest of the academic year there, except for my film, of course, but I can work on that anywhere. All the footage is shot; I just have to edit and score it.”
    “And,” Arrington said, “it looks as though Peter himself has