51

Stone was taking a nap the following afternoon, paying the price for the good bourbon, claret, and port he had ingested the previous evening, when Meg came into the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Stone, wake up,” she said.

“Mmmmf?” he replied.

“Open your eyes and ears. I have important news.”

Stone opened one eye. “How much port did I drink last night?”

“Three glasses, just like Felicity and I. Now listen to me carefully.”

“I’m listening carefully,” Stone said, opening the other eye.

“I’ve just spoken with my attorneys in San Francisco, and they told me that they filed for all our patents on the date I asked them to. However, upon checking, they find that they have no acknowledgment of that fact from the U.S. Patent Office.”

“That’s all right, they will have confirmation of delivery from whatever shipping service they used.”

“I’m afraid not,” she said. “They sent it to the post office, along with all their other outgoing mail that day—their mailroom has a record of it going out—but it was sent by ordinary mail, not registered mail, so there is no record of a notice of receipt from the patent office, who say that they have no record of it being filed.”

Stone sat up in bed. “Your attorneys should have received a notice that would allow you to use the designation ‘Patent Applied For.’”

“I’m afraid they didn’t.”

“Then your attorneys need to begin an immediate investigation of what happened to the package, questioning every employee who could have handled it.”

“They are doing that now. My question to you is, if they can’t find a notice of receipt, what is my position?”

“Your position, in those circumstances, would be a person or a corporation who has not applied for a patent.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that. How can I fix this?”

“First of all, it’s necessary that you officially become my client.”

“Stone, will you please represent me as my attorney in all matters relating to all my company’s products?”

“Yes. Now I need Joan to e-mail us the correct paperwork, but I don’t want to wait until we receive it to start on this. May I proceed?”

“You may proceed.”

Stone called Joan and requested the e-mailing of an exclusive client retainer document, then he called Bill Eggers, the managing partner of Woodman & Weld.

“Good morning, Stone,” Eggers said.

“Good afternoon, Bill—at least it is in England.”

“I see. What are you up to over there?”

“Well, I’ve just signed a new client—Harmony Software of Silicon Valley fame, and its CEO, Meg Harmon.”

“It would be the firm’s great pleasure to represent the company and Ms. Harmon. Has she signed a retainer agreement?”

“It’s being e-mailed to me as we speak.”

“Good. Well, I have a meeting to go to.”

“Not yet,” Stone said.

“Why not?”

“Because our new client’s previous attorneys have fucked up royally, and unless we can sort this out in a hurry, the world may fall on both our new client and, by extension, us.”

“Explain, please.”

Stone explained.

“So, if this Owaki fellow can get his hands on the designs, he could file a patent application?”

“I am very much afraid that is correct.”

“What is the name of the managing partner of her previous law firm?”

Stone put his hand over the phone. “Who are your San Francisco attorneys, and who is the top man there?”

“Coward, McMillan & Crane, and John Coward is the senior partner and my attorney.”

Stone conveyed that information to Bill Eggers, then there was a knock on the door, and Major Bugg’s assistant entered the room with a thick stack of papers.

“This was just received from your office, Mr. Barrington,” she said, “and we printed it out for you.”

“Hang on a minute, Bill,” Stone said, and put the phone down. “Meg,” he said, handing her the pages, “this is our standard agreement for new clients. Please read it, then sign the last page.”

Meg skipped to the last page, signed it, and handed it to Stone.

“Bill,” Stone said, “I have Ms. Harmon’s signed representation agreement in my hand. I’ll fax it to you.” He handed it back to the woman and instructed her to fax it to Eggers.

“Good. Now I will call John Coward, whom I know, break the news to him, and make unreasonable demands about locating the notice of receipt from the patent office. I will also send two attorneys from our San Francisco office to their offices, to supervise the inquiry into what went wrong. Then I’ll get back to you.”

“Thank you, Bill.” Stone hung up. “All right, Meg, you are no longer a client of Coward, McMillan & Crane, you are now represented by Woodman & Weld, under my direction.”

“I feel better already,” Meg replied.

“Not so fast. Don’t feel better until we have fixed this problem. My managing partner, Bill Eggers, is sending two attorneys from our San Francisco office to your former law firm to find out what the hell happened. Then they will report to Bill, and he will advise us on how to proceed.”

“All right,” Meg said. “Now may I join you for a nap?”

“Of course,” Stone replied, then the telephone buzzed. “Yes?”

“Mr. Barrington,” Carl Atkins, the security man, said, “there is a Mr. Selwin Ozowi—oh, excuse me, sir—a Mr. Selwyn Owaki here to see you. He does not have an appointment.”

“Is he armed or accompanied by anyone?”

“No, sir, neither.”

“Please ask the butler to show him into the library, give him a drink, and tell him you will try to locate me.”

“Oh, he wishes to see Ms. Harmon, as well.”

“Tell him you will look for us both.” Stone hung up.

“What’s going on?” Meg asked.

Stone got out of bed. “Go and change into your riding clothes—tweeds, boots, et cetera. We are going to receive a visitor in the library, and we should look as though we have just come in from riding. If you have a perfume with a scent resembling horse sweat, spray a little of that on, too.”

“And who are we receiving?”

“Selwyn Owaki. You have twenty minutes.”

Meg ran for her dressing room and Stone for his.