Insatiable Appetites Read Free Page B

served with it.
    “I’ve never served on a Kitchen Cabinet,” Stone said. “What may I expect?”
    “I was privileged to serve two other presidents in that capacity,” Eduardo said. “First, Lyndon Johnson, though we talked only of domestic matters. I wholeheartedly disagreed with him about Vietnam, and as that wore on we spoke less and less. And then there was Richard Nixon.”
    Stone blinked, speechless.
    “We only rarely talked directly, usually it was through John Ehrlichman, of whom I thought highly. After that little burglary, I withdrew. Dick was so obviously headed for ruin, and none of them would listen to reason.”
    “Each time we meet I learn something new about you, Eduardo. You should write a memoir.”
    Eduardo laughed again. “If word got out that I were even contemplating such a thing, not even Pietro would be able to protect me from those who would want my head in a basket. I know far more about too many people than is good for me. Or for them.”
    “Have you ever written anything, Eduardo?”
    “Well, I dabble with my journal from time to time,” the old man said. “I’d let you read it, but it is written in a Sicilian dialect that is quite impenetrable to the uninitiated. Sometimes I entertain myself by reading a few pages. There are eight volumes, so far, covering as many decades. They are covered in fine leather—red, the color of the devil!” He laughed and slapped Stone on a shoulder, a remarkably rare display of camaraderie. “When I and all I love are dead, you may publish it, Stone—if you can find a translator!”
    “Have you met with Kate yet, Eduardo?” Stone asked.
    “Not for a couple of years, but I expect to see her when she comes to New York again during the transition.” Eduardo looked thoughtful for a moment. “This Kitchen Cabinet thing could cause you problems, Stone.”
    “How so?”
    “Once you are identified as a member of that group, there are people who might try to damage Kate by damaging you.”
    “I’ve already had a whiff of that during the campaign,” Stone said.
    “All the more reason for them to try again,” Eduardo said.

    After lunch, Eduardo gave them a little tour of the house, clearly for Herbie’s benefit, showing them his collections of books, sculpture, and pictures.
    “I’ve always loved the Modigliani portrait,” Stone said, nodding toward the woman on the wall.
    “She is my favorite,” Eduardo replied.
    “I love the two Picassos,” Herbie said, nodding at two paintings hung side by side.
    “One of them is a Braque,” Eduardo said, looking amused. “See if you can tell me which one.”
    “The one on the right,” Herbie said without hesitation.
    “You have quite an eye, Herbert.”
    “No, I just made a lucky guess.”
    Everyone laughed.
    Stone was amazed at how well the two men got on together. He could remember when Herbie was little more than an overgrown street urchin, chiseling his way through life.
    Finally, Eduardo walked them to the front door to say their goodbyes. Pietro approached them and handed Eduardo a very fine alligator briefcase; Eduardo handed it to Stone. “A little gift,” he said.
    “Thank you, Eduardo.” The briefcase was not empty. Stone laid it on the front passenger seat of the Bentley, then Fred drove them away.
    “What did Eduardo give you?” Herbie asked.
    “I don’t know,” Stone said. “Maybe a picture. He’s given me things like that before.”
    Fred dropped Stone at home, then drove Herbie back to his office.
    Stone set the briefcase on his desk and looked through his messages, then Joan came in.
    “Did Herbie make partner?”
    “He did,” Stone said. “I took him to lunch with Eduardo. They got on amazingly well.”
    “Nice briefcase,” Joan said.
    “A gift from Eduardo.”
    She went back to her desk, and Stone opened the briefcase. Inside were eight slim volumes bound in red leather. The color of the devil, he reflected. He picked up one and opened it. The hand was florid,