Stone vaguely remembered something concerning that. He’d been through a series of associates since Carly Riggs had left. She was Woodman & Weld’s brightest attorney and had been recruited to the firm by Stone himself.
She’d served as his associate for a short period of time—and unofficially at that—prior to taking a leave of absence to attend a training camp for would-be CIA agents. She had promised to consult with Stone before deciding whether to accept any job offer.
She had, however, extended her absence for several more months so that she could attend the Defense Language Institute in Monterey, California.
None of the associates Stone had tried out since had lived up to the unrealistically high bar Carly had set.
“Ash, is it?” Stone said.
“Yes, Mr. Barrington.”
“Welcome, and you can save Mr. Barrington for client meetings. Here at the office, call me Stone.”
Ash looked uncomfortable. “I’m not sure I can do that, sir. You’re Stone Barrington. I’ve read all about you.”
“Joan, give Ash the Sara Hirschy files.” Stone would deal with the name issue later. To Ash, he said, “Sara’s a new client, so it would be good to get you involved right away.” He glanced at Joan. “Give Herb a call and let him know that if he needs any help with Sara’s divorce, he should contact Ash.”
Fred entered the office. “The car’s out front whenever you’re ready, Mr. Barrington.”
“Give me two minutes,” Stone said, then looked at Joan again. “And call Bob Cantor. If he has anything for me yet, see if he can meet me after I get back this afternoon.”
“And, Ashton,” Joan said. “Since it has to do with Sara.”
“Right. Ashton, you’ll be in that meeting, too.”
“Who’s Bob Cantor?” Ash asked.
“Joan can fill you in.”
Joan patted Ash on the back. “Come on, new guy. Best not to get in the way when he’s in a hurry.”
Chapter 14
A few hours earlier, BennyGilmore arrived on Fifth Avenue, a block away from where Jack Coulter lived.
After Gennaro had hired him the previous evening, it had taken Benny less than five minutes to find Coulter’s address. He had then spent another hour collecting as much information about the guy as he could, before drawing up the plan that had him in Coulter’s neighborhood before dawn.
As Benny had hoped, the sidewalks were empty but for a couple of joggers. A few more people and someone would notice what he was about to do.
He stopped walking in front of Coulter’s building, about ten feet to the side of the entrance and just out of range of the building’s security camera. From his pocket, he retrieved a piece of rope that he’d precut to six feet four inches and used it to place a chalk mark on the building at that height.
After performing the same task on the opposite side of the entrance, he crossed the street and found a spot from where he could watch the building.
Benny had only found a few photos of Coulter, which told him the man was very private. The best picture was onetaken of Coulter with his wife, Hillary, at a charity banquet where they had made a sizable donation.
Benny had compared the photo to the only one he could unearth of Johnny Fratelli, a decades-old mug shot from before Fratelli had been sent to prison.
Even with the difference in ages, Benny could see that the men resembled each other. The big exception was their radically different noses, but a trip to a plastic surgeon could explain that. Still, it wasn’t enough to say with any certainty that Coulter was Fratelli.
It was going to be a lot easier to prove that they weren’t the same person than the other way around.
Johnny Fratelli had been six foot four when he’d been arrested back in the day. Factoring in nearly three decades of life, Coulter should be within an inch or two of that, if they were the same person. If he wasn’t, then they were different people, and Benny’s job would be done.
Having been unable to find Coulter’s height online, Benny decided to obtain the information in a more hands-on way.
Hence the rope and chalk marks.
All he needed now was for Coulter to step outside and pass by one of his marks.
