Chapter 4

Petry stewed in the back seat of his Mercedes as he was driven to his apartment.

How dare Barrington humiliate him like that and make Petry lose his cool. And that Fred guy? He was lucky Petry had been focused on his boss. No way the tiny man would have gotten the drop on him otherwise.

Admittedly, it was probably a good thing the pip-squeak had stopped him from throwing the punch. If any of the federal investigators who'd taken Petry's first business down caught wind of yesterday's trial's outcome, they'd likely be all over him again, thinking he was up to his old tricks. Earning an assault charge would only make that outcome more likely.

Petry growled in frustration, startling his driver. "You all right, Mr. Petry?"

"Just drive," Petry said, then punched the button that raised the divider between them.

"Yes, sir. Sorry—" The driver's voice was cut off as the barrier closed.

Petry stared out the window, seeing nothing through his rage.

It was only Wednesday, and this was already the second worst week of his career. And wouldn't you know, both this and the first time had been caused by the same son of a bitch: Stone Barrington.

There was no way he would let the lawyer get a chance to do it a third time. There had to be a way to make Barrington suffer for his offenses without it being traced back to Petry. And the sooner that could happen, the better.

He pulled out his cell phone and called Nico Savage.

"Hey, boss," said Petry's personal lawyer and fixer.

"I got something that needs taking care of."

"That's what I'm here for. Lay it on me."

"Find out everything you can about a lawyer named Stone Barrington."

"The guy from the Baker case?"

"That's the one." Petry told him what had just happened, then said, "Find a weakness, something we can hit hard without it blowing back on us."

"On it. Give me twenty-four hours."

Nico started with a basic Internet search, expecting to find articles about other court cases but not much else. Instead, he learned Barrington was not only friends with New York City's police commissioner, Dino Bacchetti, but also with several other high-profile individuals, making him one very well-connected lawyer.

Nico would have to tread carefully.

Typically, the biggest weakness a person had was family. Barrington had a married son who fit the bill. The problem was Peter Barrington and his wife, Hattie, were on the other side of the country. While it wasn't out of the question that Nico could use them to pressure Peter's father, the potential logistics nightmare made it less than desirable for a quick fix.

Nico wondered if there were any family members who lived closer. Parents, perhaps.

It didn't take long to discover that the lawyer was an only child and that both of his parents were deceased. Nico did turn up one interesting fact about Barrington's mother. Apparently, she'd been some kind of semi-famous artist. Nico had even found an article in which Barrington mentioned how important his mother's paintings and legacy were to him. What Nico could do with that, he had no idea, but he filed the info in the back of his mind.

Another half hour of digging turned up next to nothing. It was clear he needed information not available to the general public. Good thing he knew people who specialized in that. He made a few calls and gave his contacts until the morning to get back to him.

Nico got a late start the following day, thanks to Jamie, the beautiful blonde he'd brought home from the club he hit after work. She'd woken him in the most delicious way, and they'd gone for round three. Or was it four?

Whatever the case, it was the reason he didn't arrive at the office until eleven a.m. By then, he already had four messages from his boss wanting to know what he'd found out about Barrington.

Nico checked his e-mail and was happy to see all three of his contacts had responded. He started to read through the first file when Petry called his cell phone again.

"Hey, boss."

"Where the hell have you been?" Petry demanded.

"Gathering info on Barrington."

"And?"

"Give me fifteen minutes and I'll come down to your office."

"You have ten." Petry hung up.

Nico read through the reports and grinned. While he'd been sleeping, the beginnings of an idea, spurred by that article about Barrington's mother, had come to him. Now here, in the reports, was more info that made the idea even more attractive. Petry wasn't quite as imaginative, however, so Nico knew he had to finesse his presentation, give his boss something he'd be expecting, then tempt him with a more interesting—not to mention easier to manage—solution. Nico made a few quick notes and arrived at Petry's office two minutes early.

"Tell me you found a way we can hurt him."

"I have. He has family."

The corner of Petry's mouth arched into a sneer. "Yeah, that's good. What does he have? A wife or something?"

"No, he's a widower. But he does have a son and daughter-in-law in Los Angeles. Have you ever heard of Peter Barrington?"

"Should I have?"

"Desperation at Dawn?"

"Am I supposed to know what that means?"

"It's a movie. It won an Oscar for Best Picture not long ago."

"So?"

"So Peter Barrington directed it. He's a pretty big deal in Hollywood. His wife won an Oscar herself, for the music."

"Can we get to them?"

"Probably."

"Why do I sense a but there?"

"Being high profile means doing so wouldn't be easy, and we would risk opening ourselves up to possible exposure. Which you said you wanted to avoid."

Petry narrowed his eyes. "Then why are you even proposing this?"

"I'm not. I just wanted you to know I looked into the possibility. But I have a much better idea that will hurt just as much, be easier to implement quickly, and will keep our hands clean."

"I'm listening."

"Barrington's mother was Matilda Stone."

"Was? As in she's dead?"

"She is, but—"

"How does a dead woman help me break that son of a bitch?"

"Hear me out. She's a well-known artist, and even has a few paintings in prominent museums."

"Good for her. But again, how does this help?"

"Barrington reveres her work so much that he has several in his house and is apparently keen on getting his hands on as many others as possible. He's notified several galleries to be on the lookout for them. There was one article that called him the steward of her legacy."

Petry's patience began to slip again. "So the dead woman's a big shot. And? I mean, if there's a plan here, I'm not getting it."

"The paintings," Nico said, trying hard not to make it sound as obvious as it should have been. "All we need to do is have some people break into his house and destroy as many of them as they can. Each painting will be a piece of his mother he can never get back. Think of it as sticking multiple knives into his heart."

There was a brief moment when Nico thought his boss was going to read him the riot act for presenting such a stupid idea, but then a grin spread across Petry's face. "Look at you, Mr. Thinking-Outside-the-Box. You are one devious bastard. I don't know how you came up with that, but…I love it."

"I'm happy to hear that."

"It's a great first step."

"First step?"

"I'm not going to be happy until he's lying in a box, buried in the ground. But that can wait until things around me cool off. This idea of yours is good because no one will ever think I had anything to do with it."

"Thanks."

"One tweak. Wouldn't it be better if Barrington witnessed the destruction?"

Nico suppressed a frown. Ideally, the break-in would occur when the lawyer was away, as having him home could complicate things. "He might put up a fight."

Petry shrugged. "If he does, then rough him up a little. All I care about is that he's in good enough condition to watch his precious paintings get ripped apart."

Nico thought about pushing back, but he could tell his boss was in one of his don't-argue-with-me moods, which meant there was only one thing Nico could say. "I'll take care of it."

Nico got to work right away, hiring a guy he knew named Toby Hill to check out the security at Barrington's house.

That afternoon, Toby called back on one of Nico's throwaway phones.

"How did it go?" Nico asked.

"Not surprising, but the place definitely has an alarm system. I couldn't tell what kind it is from the street, or who Barrington's monitoring company is. I made a few calls, but none of my contacts know, either."

"Then how do we find out?"

"You said he works out of his house?"

"Yeah."

"Then my guess is that it's a commercial-grade system. Which means you should have at least thirty seconds after you enter to shut it off. That should be more than enough time for an alarm expert. However, you have a bigger problem. The locks."

"The locks? What's so special about them?"

"They're Israeli. Top of the line. Unless you have someone who knows what they're doing, it'd be easier to smash a window and climb in, because you'll never get them unlocked."

"Then we get someone who knows what he's doing."

"Do you know how many people in the city fit that description?"

"How many?"

"Two, and one is a retired cop who wouldn't touch this job."

"Who's the other?"

"There, you're in luck. It's me. But I ain't cheap."

"Name your price."

"Let's see. I assume you'll want me to deal with the alarm, too?"

"If you don't mind."

"Five grand should do it."

"Five? How about two?"

"What's my cut of the take?"

"No take. It's not a burglary. It's a trash job. We're sending a message."

"Then I'd say good luck finding someone else."

Sensing Toby was about to hang up, Nico said, "Okay, five grand. But I'm putting you in charge of the team."

Toby was silent for a few seconds. "Fine, as long as I can pick my own people. And that'll be an extra five to cover them."

Nico had budgeted twenty grand, so he'd be getting this for far cheaper than planned. Still, he hesitated a moment before answering so that Toby didn't think he was a pushover. "If that's the way it's got to be, then okay. You have a deal."

"Great. What's the job?"

Nico told him.

"Huh, that's different."

"Can you handle it?"

"Are you kidding me? Piece of cake."

"How long to set it up?"

"Seeing as it's Thursday, give me the weekend. We should be ready to go Monday night. If that works for you."

"That works just fine."