Treason by Stuart Woods

Author:Stuart Woods [Stuart Woods]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2020-01-07T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

—

“I got lucky at Ralph Lauren,” she said, presenting herself to Stone. She looked gorgeous in the long black skirt and a black top with shiny, horizontal gold bands across it.

“You certainly did,” Stone agreed.

* * *

—

They arrived at the Pierre only fashionably late and took the elevator to the floor marked PH.

“Looks as if Peter really splurged,” Tessa said as they rode up. “There must be someone coming that he really wants to impress.”

Tessa was right. As they stepped from the elevator car, past a burly man who looked like security, Stone spotted Yevgeny Chekhov across a fairly crowded room. “I can’t wait to see the wine list,” he said to Tessa.

“Looks like he wants to impress Mr. Chekhov over and over,” she said.

“By the way,” Stone said, “whenever you meet anyone new this evening, ask them how they met Peter.”

“Did Lance Cabot tell you to tell me that?”

“Don’t ask.”

Stone snagged a couple of glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, then towed Tessa toward Chekhov.

“Ah, Stone,” Chekhov said when he saw them. “And the lovely Tessa.”

“Good evening, Yevgeny,” Stone replied. “How long have you been in New York?”

Chekhov glanced at his watch. “About six hours,” he said. “And you?”

“A couple of days.”

“I rode his coattails,” Tessa said, flashing him a smile.

“Nice place Peter has,” Stone said.

“I suspect he rented it for the occasion,” Chekhov said. “He’s probably staying somewhere downstairs from here. Have you seen the view?” He indicated that they should explore the terrace.

The lamps in Central Park had already come on, and across Fifth Avenue the Plaza was bathed in floodlights. The faint echo of a police siren and a few horns floated up from the street.

“One doesn’t get views like this in Moscow,” Chekhov said, “unless one is at the top of one of those awful Stalinist apartment buildings.”

“What brings you to New York, Yevgeny?” Stone asked, noting that his English had improved since their last meeting.

“Business,” the Russian replied.

“I never asked you what sort of business you are in.”

“This and that,” Chekhov replied. “Whatever will turn a ruble.”

“Do you have any particular interest in any particular field?”

“I’m interested in money,” Chekhov replied, “especially dollars and euros.”

“Once you’ve earned those, what do you invest them in?” Stone persisted.

“I’m interested in what will make them grow. I do quite a lot of lending, as long as the rates are good. I suppose you could say I’m something of a loan fish.”

“I think you might mean loan shark.”

“Ah, yes, that’s the word. Do you have any borrowing requirements, Stone?”

“No, I manage to operate debt free, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Too bad,” Chekhov said. “I imagine that you are quite credit-worthy.”

“I suppose I am, but I haven’t put my credit status to the test for quite some time.”

“Then I will have to find other chickens to pick.”

Stone and Tessa both laughed at that. “Pluck,” Stone said. “Peter Grant, perhaps?”

“Not at the moment, but after he has squandered his newfound wealth on parties like this one and the one in Paris, I think I may feel certain that he will soon come calling.

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