Camel Club 05 - Hell's Corner Read online

  Her face flushed. “Okay, okay. I get it. And I am sorry.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He paused. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”

  “I’m fine now. All wide-eyed. A firm verbal spanking does it every time.”

  After a very long walk Stone reached the Georgetown campus, which was quiet at this hour. He found the community message board, pulled out a piece of paper and a pen, wrote a note and posted it on the board using a few extra pushpins stuck into the cork. On the way to his cottage he used his cell phone to call Harry Finn.

  “Glad Reuben’s okay,” were the first words out of the man’s mouth.

  “Me too,” said Stone. “He wants to leave the hospital but I think he’ll be safer in there.”

  “You think the folks might try again?”

  “Even though he told us what he knew, as did Annabelle, there’s no reason not to be careful. Now tell me about Fuat.”

  Stone stopped and leaned against a tree as he listened.

  Finn said, “If he is going after bin Laden, he’s taking his own sweet time. He gets up, eats, teaches class. Has lunch. Teaches some more. Has office hours. Goes for a walk. Has dinner, goes to his apartment, reads and goes to sleep.”

  “No secret communications? No clandestine meetings?”

  “Not that I’ve seen. And I would have.”

  “I know you would, Harry.”

  “They may have him lying low because they know we’re watching.”

  “I thought of that too. But it’s difficult to know what to do about it. Look, go home and rest.”

  “And Turkekul?”

  “I’m going to try a different angle. I’ll keep you posted.”

  Stone continued the walk to his cottage. On the next block over his internal senses started tingling. Six o’clock and nine o’clock. He could feel them there before he even saw them. A man behind. A woman to his left. They looked innocuous, uninterested in him. That is, they did to the casual eye. Stone hadn’t possessed a casual eye in over forty years. His hand drifted to his holster. He picked up his pace just a bit because he wanted to get to the next intersection a few seconds faster. A plan had formed based on knowing this area as well as he did.

  As soon as he reached the intersection he suddenly veered to his right. A construction Dumpster was up on the sidewalk because the house located there was being renovated. He took up a defensive position behind it, drew his pistol and placed a bead on the woman.

  “Agent Stone?” the woman called out.

  Stone kept her in his gunsight and said nothing.

  “Director Weaver would like to talk to you.”

  “I’m sure he would.”

  “We were assigned to bring you to him.”

  “I prefer he come to me.”

  The man appeared next to the woman. He said, “Sir, the director is a very busy person.”

  “So am I.”

  A car drove past and the old woman inside peered out at the man and woman before driving on. A few other people were walking up the street, not yet in earshot, but they soon would be.

  “He just wants to talk,” said the woman, desperation creeping into her voice.

  “I’d be glad to entertain him.”

  “Okay, where?” the man asked.

  “The outdoor parking lot down by the river. One hour.”

  “Sir, the director—” began the woman as she nervously looked over her shoulder at the approaching people.

  Stone cut in, “The director will be very pleased to meet me there at that time. Now keep walking so I can put my gun away.”

  “This is highly irregular,” snapped the woman.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “We’re federal agents too,” added the man. “On the same side as you.”

  “I’ll buy the first part, but not the second. Go!”

  They walked off. Stone slipped the gun back in its holster and set out for the river. He wanted to get there first. He had things to get ready. He picked up his pace even as a knot grew in his stomach. It was one thing to risk life and limb trying to solve a complex case. It was quite another to have to do so while watching your rear flank. But apparently that was just how things were now.

  And why am I surprised?

  CHAPTER 59

  THE THREE VEHICLES PULLED UP to the empty parking lot and stopped. It was one o’clock in the morning, and being a weekday, working Washingtonians had long since finished their collective entertainment for the evening and gone home to sleep. The security team piled out first, checking out obvious attack points and sending personnel scurrying into these hidden crevices before signaling that it was safe for Riley Weaver to exit his ride. He was dressed in a suit and striped tie, looking more ready to step in front of a camera and play the pundit’s role or host a global conference on terrorism than skirmish with an ex-assassin in an empty parking lot at the edge of the Potomac. The bulge at his chest indicated the body armor he wore. He looked around a bit uncertainly before taking a few steps toward the water’s edge.

  “Stone?” he called out.

  A phone rang. Everyone grabbed cells.

  “Sir,” said one of the guards as he picked up the ringing phone from the top of a pier piling, right where Stone had placed it earlier. He handed it to Weaver.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Director,” said Stone. “What can I do for you?”

  His voice was on speakerphone. When Weaver tried to disable it, he couldn’t.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he exclaimed. “It won’t let me off the speakerphone.”

  “I want everyone to hear this. So again, what can I do for you?”

  “You can start by showing yourself.” Weaver looked nervously around at the darkness.

  “And why is that necessary? I thought you wanted to talk. All we need are voices to do that.”

  “I wanted to meet at NIC,” snapped Weaver.

  “And I picked this place instead.”

  “Why?”

  “Frankly, your place gives me the creeps. Never quite sure if I’m going to walk out or not.”

  “What is wrong with you? You are a federal employee.”

  “Of an agency unaffiliated with yours.”

  “What are you afraid of?”

  “You brought the SWAT team with you. Again! And you’re wearing Kevlar. What are you afraid of?”

  Weaver performed a 360-degree spin, trying to see where Stone might be lurking.

  “I’ve got long-range eyes, Director, so don’t even bother.”

  “I don’t like it that you can see me but I can’t see you.”

  “I like it just fine. And as your messengers said, we’re all on the same team.”

  “Which begs the question of why we have to meet in such a damn fool way,” barked Weaver into the phone.

  “Depends on what you want.”

  “Did you speak to Agent Chapman tonight?”

  “You know I did. Or else you wouldn’t be here.”

  “What did she tell you?”

  “She told me lots of things. You’ll have to be more specific.”

  “About our arrangement.”

  “Meaning you and her?”

  “Come on, Stone, don’t play stupid.”

  “You were a Marine, Weaver.”

  “Still am. Never leave the Corps no matter what other uniform you put on.”

  “I was hoping that would be your answer. And in combat who do you rely on?”

  “Marine next to you.”

  “That’s right. And did you ever keep secrets about the fight in front of you from the Marine next to you?”

  Weaver didn’t answer right away. He glanced around at his security detail. Several of them were eyeing him closely.

  “This isn’t exactly combat, Stone. You know that as well as anyone. You carried a rifle for your country.”

  “It’s looking an awful lot like a battlefield to me.”

  “So you’re saying Chapman told you?”
/>   “I’m saying partners don’t keep secrets. If you have a problem with that, then the problem is with me, not her.”

  “She could get in a lot of trouble for this.”

  “But she won’t.”

  “How the hell do you know that?”

  “Hit the speakerphone button twice, Weaver.”

  “What?”

  “Just do it.”

  Weaver did so and the speakerphone function was disabled. Weaver held the phone up to his ear. “What the hell are you playing at?”

  “Nanobots.”

  Weaver noticeably stiffened.

  “And since you never got back to me with the list of events at Lafayette Park, I had someone do it for me. There’s a bunch of stuff on there that could have been the target for the bomb, but something tells me the answer isn’t anywhere on that list.”

  “Where, then?”

  “You know about the Pennsylvania adventure my friends had? And the executions of the Latinos?”

  “Of course. I am the director of NIC.”

  “Lot of trouble for a cover-up. Coupled with the fact that those shots into the park were fired from a government office building behind the Hay-Adams that one needed a pretty high security clearance to get into spells ‘traitor’ with a capital T.”

  “Nothing new there. We’re looking into that angle.”

  “Your ‘looking’ will show that the person who accessed the building used a stolen or cloned security card while the real card owner was halfway around the world.”

  Weaver pursed his lips. “Cloned. Actual holder was in Tokyo.”

  “And this person was with the State Department?”

  “Jesus, Stone, what are you, a freaking mind reader?”

  “No. The folks at State have always been lax about security. Thirty years ago half my missions were because they’d screwed up somehow. And I can see they haven’t changed.”

  “Any thoughts on who the inside person might be?”

  “Not yet. I need to keep digging. But, Weaver, if I have to spend all my time looking over my shoulder for your boys, that will be very distracting.”

  “I can see why your superiors had such a hell of a time with you in the army. You don’t play well with others.”

  “Sure I do. My problem was when my superiors said one thing and did another. And I can see that hasn’t changed either.”

  “And when that happens what do you do? Eliminate the offender?”

  Stone, who was sitting at the window of a building across from the parking lot that he’d accessed through a never-locked rear door, stared down at the NIC director.

  Okay, next question answered. He knows I killed Gray and Simpson.

  “The past is past.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Then you’re a fool, and more than that you’re doing a disservice to the country you were sworn to protect.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” barked an enraged Weaver. “I’ve fought, bled and killed for my country.”

  “So have I,” retorted Stone.

  “What exactly do you want?”

  “I want you to stop screwing with me. If you want to help, I welcome it. If not, just stay the hell out of my way.”

  “I am the head of the nation’s intelligence service.”

  “Yes, you are. So start acting like it, Marine.”

  Weaver flinched. But before he could respond Stone said, “And the next time we meet it might be over a beer talking about old times, because the traitor who’s trying to pull something really catastrophic is either dead or awaiting trial. I can’t believe you’d have a problem with that.”

  Weaver nodded slowly as he visibly calmed. “Okay, Stone. We’ll play it your way. For now. I guess I understand how you survived all those years.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Stone?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What do you think is going on?”

  Stone stood there in the darkness deciding how to respond. “You were wrong. The guns and the bomb were done by the same party.”

  “How the hell do you know that?”

  “There’s no way I believe in a coincidence that big.”

  “Okay, why?”

  “Something big, Weaver. On your watch. You were right to be concerned.”

  “How big?” asked Weaver nervously.

  “Big enough to make us forget the bullets and the bomb.”

  “We have to stop it, Stone.”

  “Yes, we do.”

  A minute later Weaver and his security detail were gone. Stone came down from his hiding place. He heard the sound and whirled around in time to see Chapman emerge from behind another building. She holstered her gun and joined him.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I saw what went down on the street with the two agents and followed you here.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re my partner. I needed to make sure you were okay.”

  After a long gaze passed between them, Stone said, “I appreciate that.”

  “And I heard the essentials. I appreciate you covering for me with Weaver.”

  “It’s what partners do.”

  “Come on, I’ll give you a lift home.”

  This time Stone accepted the offer.

  When they got there he said, “You take my cot, I’ll sleep in the chair.”

  “What?”

  “Cot and me in the chair.”

  “I heard you the first time. But I’m okay to drive.”

  “No you’re not. You almost hit two pedestrians and three parked cars on the way here.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said with a bit less confidence.

  “The last thing I need is for my partner to be taken from me because she got busted for drunk driving.”

  “Well then let me take the chair.”

  He pointed to his cot and said, “Go.” He gave her a shove in the back.

  Looking bemused, Chapman slipped off her heels, padded to the cot and drew the privacy blanket closed.

  CHAPTER 60

  THE NEXT MORNING CHAPMAN SLOWLY WOKE, turned to the side, fell off the cot and hit the floor hard.

  “Bloody hell!”

  She rubbed her head.

  She glanced up to see Stone standing in front of her holding two cups of coffee.

  “Good morning,” he said pleasantly.

  She sat on the cot and took the offered coffee. She winced and rubbed her head as she drank some.

  “My head feels quite ready to burst.”

  He said, “Four mojitos, two vodka tonics and a glass of port. And that’s just what I saw. I’m stunned you still have a head left.”

  “I told you I could hold my liquor.”

  “Why don’t you shower and then we can grab some breakfast.”

  “Wonderful. I’m famished. I know a nice restaurant.”

  “I know a better one.”

  “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

  Forty minutes later they were in downtown D.C. and in line with a group of construction workers ordering breakfast at a food truck a few blocks from the Capitol. They carried their egg sandwiches and hash browns over to Chapman’s car and sat on the hood hungrily eating their meal.

  Her mouth full of scrambled eggs, Chapman moaned. “God, this is good.”

  “It’s the lard, I think,” said Stone, munching on a hash brown. “And the fact that they never wash their frying pan.”

  Finished, they climbed in Chapman’s ride and drove off.

  “Where to?”

  “The park.”

  “Hell’s Corner. It’s living up to its name.”

  “I wonder how NIC is doing this morning.”

  “Based on what happened last night, probably not great.” She skimmed her fingers across the steering wheel. “Look, I know what you did last night. You effectively blocked Weaver from taking action against me for telling you about my other mission. It was neatly done.”

 
“I’ve been in this business long enough to know how it really operates. I needed him to back off, but he has lots of assets. So I also need his help and focus.”

  “How much do you intend on telling him? I mean about what you’ve figured out?”

  “A lot. Again, he has resources we don’t. And the primary objective is the same for us both. To prevent whatever is coming.”

  “You think it really is in the planning stages?”

  “It’s past the planning stage. Now it’s in the execution stage.”

  “And the Russians? Pretty formidable foes.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve had a few run-ins with them. They can get pretty nasty.”

  Stone said nothing.

  “You spent time in Russia. At least that’s what your file says.”

  “I did.”

  “Cold War era?”

  “Yes.”

  “How was it?”

  “It was what it was.”

  “Was your mission successful?”

  “I came back alive, so I’d say yes, it was.”

  She drove on.

  Twenty minutes later Stone and she were standing in the office building from where they’d deduced the guns had been fired. He opened one of the windows.

  “What are we looking for?” she asked. “This building has the height to give it a direct sightline to the park. But we’d already established that.”

  “I know. But I think there’s something else.”

  “Like what?”

  “If I knew that I wouldn’t be here looking out the window.”

  He continued to gaze down at the park and then onward, south to the White House. There was something in the depths of his mind that he knew was important, but he couldn’t recall it. He had seen it, he was sure of that. In fact he had seen it in the park. But it wouldn’t come. He’d racked his brain all morning, but that focus had only served to bury the potential answer even more deeply.

  Chapman leaned against the window and stared at him.

  “It’s hurting my brain watching your brain burn itself out.”

  “Let’s go. I need to check the message board at Georgetown University.”

  “You into social networking with college students?”

  “No. My target is a little older.”