“Doesn’t he?”

“Let me explain something else: I’ve been retained by a branch of the federal government that I cannot name. He was doing their bidding at the time he was arrested.”

Dierdre clapped a hand to her breast. “Oh, God, he was drunk and violent for the CIA, is that what you’re telling me? I gotta admit, I’ve never heard that one before, though it’s right up there with the dog ate his driver’s license.”

“Shhhh,” Stone said, making tamping motions with his hands. “I didn’t say that, and you mustn’t repeat it.”

“Is that your way of saying he actually was working for the CIA?”

“I can’t go there,” Stone said, pleading in his voice. “Please believe me when I tell you.”

“All right, Stone,” she said. “Since it’s you, and you’re a pretty good lay when no one is watching, here’s my best offer: thirty days at Rikers, a thousand-dollar fine, and his license in my desk drawer for three years.”

Stone slumped. Herbie wasn’t going to like this. “I’ll take it to my client,” he said.

“Don’t sound so down, Stone. You did pretty well for the guy, considering.”

Stone didn’t ask, Considering what? He said his goodbyes and left.

“Don’t be a stranger!” Dierdre called after him down the hallway.

“Thanks, Maria,” Stone said as he passed the front desk.

“Did I mention that the cop was Dierdre’s baby brother, Colin?” Maria asked.

“No, Maria, you didn’t mention that.” Stone got out the door as quickly as he could.

STONE WENT DOWN to the hallway outside the courtroom and was mildly surprised to find Herbie Fisher, dressed in a sober blue suit and tie, waiting for him, and on time, too.

“Hey, Stone,” Herbie said. “How’s it hanging?”

“You’re the one who’s hanging,” Stone said. “You’re in a lot of trouble.”

“Stone, it was only a DUI, that’s all.”

“It was your second DUI, and you haven’t bothered to do your penance for the first one, which was less than a month ago.”

“Well, hell…”

“Let me tell you a few other things that you ought to know,” Stone said. “The cop who received your kick in the crotch was the younger brother of the lady DA who’s prosecuting your case, and the judge who’s hearing it has a wife who was hurt in an accident caused by a DUI. He loves stringing them up by their thumbs.”

Herbie seemed to pale a little. “Can’t we get the DA and the judge, whatchacallit, excused? I mean, they’re both prejudiced against me.”

“Recused. It’s not going to happen because I’ve already gotten you the best possible deal.”

Herbie blew out a sigh of relief. “I knew you’d come through for me, Stone. Lance said you’d make it go away.”

“I didn’t say it was going away. I said I got you the best possible deal.”

Herbie looked worried. “What kind of a deal?”

“You do thirty days, pay a thousand-dollar fine, and lose your license for three years.”

“WHAT?” Herbie yelled. “I’m not doing time for this, and I’m sure as hell not going to give up driving. I just bought a new car!”

“You’re lucky they’re not taking the new car,” Stone said. “When Giuliani was mayor, that’s what they did-first DUI, they towed it away.”

“Stone, Lance promised me…”

“Then talk to Lance about it.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Well, Lance is sort of hard to get hold of, you know? He always called me.”

“That’s tough, Herbie. You’ve fucked yourself, so you may as well lie back and enjoy it.”

Herbie was shaking his head vigorously. “I’ll go to trial,” he said. “I’ll get a better deal than that from a jury.”

“Are you insane?”

“I know how to talk to a jury,” Herbie said. “They’ll believe me.”

“So your idea of dealing with this is to perjure yourself?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll tell the truth.”

“You’ll tell a jury you were on your second DUI in a month, with a blood alcohol level of more than double the legal limit, and that you kicked a cop in the balls? Do you want to end up in Sing-Sing?”

Herbie was still shaking his head. “Lance said you’d make it go away.”

“What do you want me to do, bribe the judge?”

Herbie brightened. “How much would that cost?”

Stone dragged Herbie over to a bench and sat him down. “Now you listen to me,” he said. “You’ve behaved stupidly by driving drunk twice in a row. You’ve injured a young policeman who is the brother of the ADA prosecuting you, and the judge has a thing about DUIs. What do you think that adds up to?”

“Okay, I’ll do the fine and the license thing, but no jail time. I’m too pretty to go to jail. I’ll get raped the first day.”

“First of all, you’re not all that pretty. Second of all, you’re extraordinarily lucky to have to do only thirty days. The DA’s first offer was six months, and if you went to trial, you’d probably get a year. Can’t you understand that you’ve fucked up royally, and that now you’re going to have to take responsibility for your actions?”

Herbie brought himself up to his full five feet six. “I have no problem taking responsibility. I just won’t do time, that’s all.”

“Herbie, that’s how you take responsibility.”

“Stone, do you know how to get hold of Lance?”

“Lance can’t help you here, Herbie; only I can help you. You can help yourself by being a stand-up guy and taking your punishment.”

“I am a stand-up guy,” Herbie protested, his voice taking on a whine.

“Herbie, do you know who Lance is? Do you know who he works for?”

Herbie looked around furtively. “Well, I do have my suspicions. He’s mobbed up, isn’t he?”

“Worse than that, Herbie.”

“What’s worse than mobbed up? Russian mob?”

“Worse.”

“I can’t think of anything worse than the Russian mob.”

“Herbie, think about the work that Lance hired you to do.”

“You mean photographing that ambassador guy with his boyfriend?”

“I don’t want to know that, Herbie,” Stone said, throwing up his hands defensively. “But think for a minute: Who would want that kind of work done?”

Herbie thought about it. “You don’t mean…” “Go ahead, Herbie, say it.”

Herbie licked his lips and gulped. “The National Enquirer?”

Stone buried his face in his hands. “Herbie, Lance works for a branch of the federal government, a branch that does dirty little things like photographing ambassadors with their boyfriends. Can’t you think of who that might be?”

“You’re not talking about the CIA, are you?”

“Congratulations, Herbie, you’re coming out of the fog.”

Oddly, Herbie seemed pleased. “You mean I’m working for the CIA?”

“Not anymore.”

“Man, that should get me laid.” Herbie chuckled.

“Herbie, it could get you a lot worse than laid,” Stone said.

“What do you mean?”

“Lance intimated to me that, if your case came to trial, his people might use other means to stop it.”

“You mean like bribing the judge?”

“No, Herbie.”

“Well, anybody who’d want an ambassador photographed with his head buried in another guy’s crotch wouldn’t have a problem with bribing a judge, would they?”

“Herbie, you’re not thinking this out to its logical conclusion. These are people who own weapons with silencers, if you get my drift.”

“You mean, they might shoot the judge?” He didn’t seem displeased at the thought.

Stone shook his head. “No, Herbie. It would be a lot simpler just to shoot you, wouldn’t it?”

Herbie froze.

Stone thought he’d finally reached Herbie. “Of course, they’d probably make it look like an accident; a suicide, maybe.”

Herbie seemed speechless now.

“You see where this is headed, Herbie? Look, I’ll see what I can do to make life a little easier for you inside.”

“How can you do that?” Herbie asked.

“You can buy nearly anything in jail, Herbie. Do you have any money?”