“It’s Stone Barrington. Do you always answer the phone that way?”
“I do on my private line,” Manny said. “How’d you get this number?”
“You called my cell phone on this line. Did you get the hundred I sent you?”
“Yeah.”
“Would you like some more hundreds?”
“Maybe. How many and what for?”
“Five hundred to find Evan Keating again. I think he may be in Miami, maybe South Beach.”
“That’s going to run you at least a thousand,” Manny said. “I have to start from scratch.”
“Why? You’ve already done this once.”
“Yeah, but the agent I used is no longer available. I’ll have to start with a new one.”
“All right, Manny, start a new guy on the job, and call me when we get to a thousand, and I’ll decide whether I want to go further.”
“I’ll need five hundred up front,” Manny said.
“Manny, for old times’ sake, could you start right now? I’ll send the money today.”
“What old times’ sake? It’s not like you and me have got some kind of warm, fuzzy history.”
“Manny, we have the NYPD in common. That’s a basis to start on.”
“If you FedEx the money, I’ll have it first thing tomorrow.”
Stone sighed. “Give me the address.”
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STON E A N D D IN O were with Tommy Sculley when Bob Cantor called back.
“Hey, Bob,” Stone said. “You okay?”
“I’m okay. Are you in New York?”
“No, I’m in Key West.”
“That’s almost as good as St. Thomas, which is where I am.”
“Not bad, Bob. Can you get me a cell phone number from there?”
“Maybe. Old number?”
“New number, maybe only a day or two old.”
“Do you know where the caller is based?”
“Key West, I should think.”
“What’s the name?”