“Yes, I’m okay. Are the police always like this in New York?”

“Not usually, and I don’t think you’ll have any problem with him again tonight. Are you from out of town?”

“From San Antonio, Texas. I’m in town on business.”

“Where are you staying?”

“At the Waldorf Towers.”

“Then let me give you a lift, it’s not far.”

Fred opened a door for him, and they got in.

“Fred, the Waldorf Towers.” Stone turned to his guest. “My name is Stone Barrington.” He offered his hand.

The man shook it. “I am Jose Perado,” he said. “Please call me Pepe—everyone does.”

“What business are you in?”

“I’m in the beer business. I’m a brewer. Perhaps you’ve heard of Cerveza Perado?”

“Yes, I have. I had it once in Texas. It’s very good.”

“My grandfather started the business nearly a hundred years ago. I’m the third generation. Do you have a card, Mr. Barrington?”

“Of course.” Stone handed him a card.

“What kind of law do you practice?” Perado asked, looking at the card. “Oh, I’ve heard good things about Woodman & Weld. I hope to visit them while I’m here.”

“I practice mostly business law, and I’d be happy to introduce you to whoever you’d like to meet at Woodman & Weld.”

Fred drove the car to the Towers entrance at the Waldorf.

“Here we are,” Stone said.

“May I meet with you tomorrow, Mr. Barrington?”

“Yes, of course, and please call me Stone.”

“Would ten tomorrow morning be all right?”

“Of course. The address is on the card. My office is on the street level of my home. It’s a short walk from the Waldorf.”

“Until ten o’clock,” Perado said. He shook Stone’s hand, got out of the car, and went inside.

Stone went home, resisted eating Dino’s chateaubriand, and called his firm’s managing partner, Bill Eggers.

“Hello?”

“Good evening, Bill, it’s Stone. I hoped you’d be awake.”

“I am now. This better be good news—I don’t sleep well on bad news.”

“Have you ever heard of a beer called Cerveza Perado?”

“I have two six-packs of it in my bar downstairs. It’s hard to come by outside of Texas—you have to know somebody.”

“I chanced to meet Jose Perado, their third-generation CEO, this evening.”

“And how did you manage that?”

“I was coming out of Patroon as he was being ‘set upon by footpads,’ as Shakespeare once put it.”

“Right there in the street?”

“Yep, and the footpads were cops. I took a blackjack away from one of them and threatened to call his captain, whereupon they dematerialized. I gave Pepe, as he likes to be called, a lift to the Waldorf Towers. He’s in from San Antonio and looking for legal advice. I’m giving him some tomorrow morning. Would you like to join us?”

“In my office?”