“There’s a DUI and some other minor stuff involved. He needs a lawyer, and we feel honor bound to provide him with one. We’ll pay five hundred an hour.”

Stone’s normal fee for that sort of thing was three hundred an hour. “That is not ungenerous.”

“We don’t want it to go to trial, you see; could be embarrassing and might even reveal information detrimental to national security.”

“You mean, detrimental to the Central Intelligence Agency.”

“Same thing. Do we have a deal?” Lance held out his hand to shake.

“Oh, all right,” Stone said, shaking the hand. He picked up a pen and pad. “What’s your client’s name?”

“Herbert Fisher, a professional photographer by trade.”

Stone nearly choked. “Oh, no, no, no, no,” he said, holding out his hands as if to ward off evil.

“You know Mr. Fisher?” Lance asked, looking surprised.

“I know him far better than I want to,” Stone said.

“Well, come to think of it, he did ask for you. I’m glad you’ve agreed.”

“Wait a minute, Lance. I’m not doing this. The guy is trouble from beginning to end—he won’t take legal advice, won’t do anything he’s told.”

“Stone, Stone, it’s a simple matter, really. We just want you to negotiate something for him—get him off, if possible, sure, but we can’t let it go to trial.”

“Lance, sometimes these things go to trial, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Stone, we can do something about it, if necessary, but we’d rather let you handle it in the normal way.”

“I don’t like the sound of that, Lance.”

Lance held up a placating hand. “Now don’t go reading a subtext into my words.”

“Do you know Herbie Fisher?” Stone asked.

“We’ve met.”

“Well, let me tell you about him. Last year, I hired him—on the recommendation of a guy who does a lot of good work for me—to take some photographs. A domestic matter. Herbie fell through the skylight while taking the pictures, got himself arrested, then, when I got him out, jumped bail and ran for the Virgin Islands. I had to go down there and get him back to make his court appearance and get my bail money back.”

“Well, he does sound lively, doesn’t he? He did come well recommended.”

“Lance, you don’t want anything to do with this guy, and neither do I.”

“Fine with me, Stone. See him through this, and we’ll both kiss him off.”

“You’re not listening, Lance. I won’t represent him.”

“But you’ve already agreed, old sport, and you’re a man of your word.”

“But I didn’t know who we were talking about.”

“Then you should have asked before we shook hands on it, not afterward.”

“Lance . . .”