Stone looked. Two large men were occupying a sofa meant for four; they were the two who had dragged Herbie from Elaine’s the night all this had started. He walked past them to the reception desk, gave his name and was directed to the conference room.
“Are they the guys who held you in the attic?” Stone asked.
“Yeah,” Herbie replied, tugging at Stone’s sleeve and nodding again. Carmine Dattila was getting off the elevator. “And that’s the guy who told them to kill me slow.”
“You wait here,” Stone said. “I’ll call you when we’re ready.”
“Are you kidding? With those two guys? They’ll kill me while you’re gone.”
“Just a minute,” Stone said. He went to the reception desk. “I’m here for two depositions, and I need a private room where one of the witnesses can wait.”
“First door on your right,” the woman said. “That’s an empty office.”
Stone walked back toward Herbie, noting that the two large men were deep in conversation with Carmine Dattila and ignoring them.
He escorted Herbie to the empty office. “You wait in this room, and don’t leave for anything,” he said.
“But what if I have to go to the john?”
“You’re just going to have to hold it, unless you want to have another conversation with Tweedledum and Tweedledee out there.”
“Their names are Cheech and Gus,” Herbie replied. “I forget which is which.”
“Do you want to die, Herbie?”
“No.”
“Then don’t leave this office until I come for you.”
“Aw, okay.”
“If you’re gone when I come back, your lawsuit will be dismissed, and Cheech and Gus will find you and kill you slow.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Herbie said testily.
“There’s a TV; you can watch the soap operas.”
“Yeah, great!”
Stone left and went back to the conference room. Bernard Finger, Carmine Dattila and a court stenographer were waiting for him. “Good morning,” he said to the assembled group, then took a seat.
“Are you ready to begin?” Finger asked.
“Yes.” He turned to the stenographer. “Please swear the witness.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Finger said.
“Swear him, and if you haven’t already explained to him that the laws of perjury apply, please do so now.”
“He understands.”
The stenographer produced a bible and swore in Dattila.
Stone elicited his name and address and made sure the stenographer got it down right. “What is your occupation, Mr. Dattila?”
“I manage a coffee shop.”
“Do you also own the coffee shop?”