Divine Justice (8 page)
“Carter Gray?” Alex did his best to appear baffled even as the sweat gathered under his armpits. By lying to a federal officer he’d already committed several felonies. He was digging his professional grave deeper with each word.
“Yeah. Carter Gray. Stone went to see him on the night his house was blown up. You came out the next day with him to the crime scene. I’ve talked to the FBI agents who were out there with both of you.”
“Right, right. Well, I knew that Oliver had gone to see Gray because he told me he had. I don’t know why. He asked me to come with him to meet the FBI agents. So I did. As far as I know that’s where it was left.”
“How’d you two meet?”
“Anybody who’s pulled White House Protection Detail knows about Oliver Stone. He was a fixture in Lafayette Park for a long time.”
“You happen to know his real name, or is the famous film director moonlighting?”
“I don’t know his real name.”
“I thought Secret Service agents were more inquisitive than that. Guy was right across from the White House and you don’t even know his real name?”
“It’s a free country. He never did anything threatening. Just exercising his right to protest. We just thought he was an eccentric.”
“So the name John Carr ring any bells?”
Alex had been expecting that follow-up question. “No, but it sounds familiar for some reason.”
“It was the name of a soldier whose grave was dug up at Arlington Cemetery. On Gray’s orders.”
“That’s right. I read about it in the papers. I wonder what the hell that was about?”
Knox just stared at him.
Finally Alex broke the silence. “I don’t know what to tell you, Agent Knox.”
“The truth would be helpful.”
The migraine started in the center of Alex’s forehead. “I’m
telling
you the truth.”
Knox looked down and shook his head slowly. When he glanced back up his features were sad. “You aiming to scuttle your career over this guy, Ford?”
“I know him as Oliver Stone. That’s it.”
“You know his buddies. Reuben Rhodes and Caleb Shaw?”
“Yes. They’re my friends too.”
“And one recently died.” Knox looked at a little notebook he held. “Milton Farb. Killed in his house over six months ago.”
“That’s right. We were all really upset about that.”
“I’m sure. Police never solved the crime?”
“That’s right, they didn’t.”
“And you were also working with the feds on nailing the casino king Jerry Bagger. Only he ended up blown to pieces in the Potomac River.”
“I almost ended up there myself.”
“You’re a busy man. And your friend too, what did you call her, Susan Hunter?”
“I called her that because it’s her name. And that’s right, she was there too.”
“And how did you get involved with a guy like Bagger? Through the lady?”
“It’s pretty complicated and I’m not at liberty to divulge what happened. But the FBI can probably fill you in. And really I was just helping out a friend again.”
“Man, you got lots of friends.”
“Better than lots of enemies,” Alex shot back.
“Oh, I think you got a few of those too.” Knox rose and handed Alex a card. “You think about any more bullshit you want to tell me, give me a buzz. Meantime, I’ll check everything you just told me out seven ways from Sunday. And just to show my good faith, I’ll give you a two-minute heads-up before they serve you with the arrest warrant for obstruction of justice. How’s that sound, Ford? You have a good one now.” Knox walked off.
Alex just sat there on the bench because his legs, at that moment, didn’t have the strength to support his body.
Thanks, Oliver, Thanks a lot.
K
NOX’S NEXT STOP
was the Library of Congress’ Rare Book Reading Room where he found Caleb Shaw placing some priceless tomes on a rolling cart. Five minutes later they were sitting in the same small room where Caleb had been interrogated by casino owner Jerry Bagger. On seeing Knox’s credentials Caleb said coolly, “And you want to see me about what?”
“Your friend, Oliver Stone?”
“You call him a friend. I call him an acquaintance.”
“That’s just semantics.”
“I’m a librarian. Semantics are my life. Besides, I haven’t seen him in a long time. I’m afraid I don’t know anything that could help you.”
“Well, sometimes people know more than they think.”
“If I knew more than I thought, then I’d know it.”
His patience clearly exhausted, Knox said, “Okay, let’s cut to the chase, Shaw. I don’t have all day to pull this story together so just answer my questions. Who is Oliver Stone really? And where is he now?”
“Oliver is Oliver. He used to have a tent in Lafayette Park. He’s the caretaker at Mt. Zion Cemetery. But I don’t know where he is. I haven’t seen him for over six months. You can water-dunk me and I’d tell you the same thing.”
“You mean
waterboarding
, and we don’t do that to people,” Knox said firmly. “Because that constitutes torture.”
“Oh, really?” Caleb replied with both eyebrows tilted to the ceiling. “Then you might want to let your friends in the government know. There seems to be some confusion on that particular topic.”
Ignoring this, Knox said, “Does the name John Carr mean anything to you?”
“Yes, it absolutely does.”
Knox perked up. “Tell me about him.”
“John Dickson Carr is a very famous mystery writer. Well, he’s dead now, but I can recommend several of his works to you. Good stuff.”
“I’m talking about John Carr the soldier, not the writer,” Knox snapped.
“I don’t know anyone by that name. There is of course John le Carré, but he’s also a writer, though he did work in British intelligence at one point. And le Carré is only a nom de plume. His real name is David Cornwell. I could recommend some of his works as well.”
Knox ground his teeth together and reminded himself that beating to death a public servant was not in the best interests of either his investigation or a future peaceful retirement. “This soldier was an
American
. Very distinguished record in Nam. He died. He was buried. This was over thirty years ago. Then they dug up his grave at Arlington and there was no body in it.”
“Good Lord! I don’t like to disparage my employer, but the federal government really has become so sloppy recently. But to lose an entire
body
? That really is outrageous.”
Knox stared at him for a moment, then said, “Maybe the body was never in the grave, Shaw. How does that theory grab you?”
“Interesting, but what does that have to do with me?”
“Maybe John Carr and Oliver Stone are one and the same?”
“Well, I don’t really see how that could be. But then again, Oliver never talked about his past and I respected his privacy. He’s a good man, though, one of the most loyal friends anyone could ask for.”
“You sound pretty sure for him just being an
acquaintance.”
“I’m a quick and accurate judge of people.”
“How about your buddy, Milton Farb? Was Stone loyal to him?”
“Milton’s dead,” Caleb said firmly.
“I know. I’d like to know how he died.”
“He was murdered.”
“I know that too. Any idea who might’ve killed him?”
“If I did, the police would know, I can assure you.”
“He dies and your buddy Oliver disappears?”
“If you’re thinking that Oliver had anything to do with it, you’re sadly mistaken. He loved Milton like a brother.”
“Right. Anything else you can tell me?”
“Not unless it has to do with rare books.”
He handed Caleb a card. “Call me if you
don’t
think of anything else.”
He left the room.
At another time in his life Caleb probably would’ve have fainted dead away after such an encounter. However, he was a different person now, especially after Milton’s death.
He simply rose and went back to work, tucking the card into his pocket.
Knox drove to the warehouse where Reuben Rhodes worked, but the big man was not there, nor had anyone seen him for some days. They also did not have an address for him.
“How do you pay the man without a home address?” he asked the foreman.
“He picks up his check in person. I never mail it. That’s the way he likes it.”
“How about his year-end tax documents?”
“I give him that too. In person.”
“I take it the man doesn’t want people to know where he lives?”
“I’m not putting words in Reuben’s mouth but I’d say that was a fair assessment.”
“What can you tell me about him?”
“Good worker, nice sense of humor. Doesn’t like rules too much. Likes the government even less.”
“Did you know he worked in military intelligence for years?”
“He never mentioned that. I knew he was in the army. Helluva soldier, I bet. Man’s strong enough to strangle a bear. Wouldn’t want to get on the bad side of him.”
“I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
“Mister, if I were you, I sure would. Four fellows jumped him leaving work one night. Three of them ended up in the hospital and the fourth fellow would’ve too, but he ran too fast for Reuben to catch him.”
Knox climbed back in his truck and headed off. A moment later he received a text message from Macklin Hayes. They had just tracked down the woman who’d been staying at Stone’s cottage. She was at a hotel in downtown D.C.
Knox floored it. Right now he had one lying Secret Service agent and one federal librarian who acted clueless but wasn’t and an AWOL loading dock worker with a grudge against the U.S. government who could probably break Knox’s neck with ease.
Knox could only hope the lady would tell him what he needed to know. Yet he doubted it would be that easy. If he’d learned nothing else about this Oliver Stone character it was that he commanded a great deal of loyalty from his friends.
Knox would just have to see how long that loyalty would endure. He was very good at pushing such things to their limits. And beyond.
T
HE BIG MAN
swept off his hat and ambled forward to the table where Stone, Danny and Abby were sitting. He had the smooth gait and perfect build of the natural athlete. Along the way he shook the gnarled hands of some of the customers and patted many a back like a politician scavenging for votes.
“Hello, Abby,” he said as he stopped at their table. He eyed Danny. “Thought you were heading out to make your way in the world, young man.”
“Got sidetracked, Sheriff. You know me, short attention span.”
The policeman gave him an easy grin. “That include getting your face busted up? Girl or guy?”
“If it’d been a girl I’d have a little bit of lipstick on me,” Danny said slyly. “Before she got pissed and slugged me.”
“He’ll be heading back out soon,” Abby said. “So he says.”
The sheriff turned his attention to Stone. “Who we got here?”
“New friend of mine,” said Danny quickly. “Ben, this here is Sheriff Lincoln Tyree.”
Tyree put out a big hand. “Just call me Tyree, everybody does, Ben. Got a bunch of Lincolns in my family. Like most folks round here the Tyrees fought for the Union. Pleased to meet you.”
Stone shook his hand. There was great strength in the man’s fingers, he noted. But he didn’t attempt to crush Stone’s hand. The grip was measured, confident but not aggressive.
Tyree pulled up an empty chair and sat down, laid his hat on the table and motioned to the waitress to bring him a cup of coffee.
“When’d you get back, Danny?”
“Late last night or early this morning, depending on how you want to call it. Got in a little tussle on the train. Some fellers jumped me. And Ben helped me out. In fact, he laid all three of them out without any help from me.”
Tyree nodded at Stone, a new level of respect on his features. “Thank you for that. We were all worried when Danny told us he was leaving. We’re pretty insulated here. Outside world’s different from our little town.”
“Places are different and also the same,” Stone said. “Some bad and some good everywhere you go.”
Tyree chuckled. “Well, I hope we’ve got more good in Divine than bad, right, Abby?”
She fingered her coffee and nodded absently. “Nice town, good place to raise a family,” she said.
“Hell, yeah,” exclaimed Danny. “I mean, look how I turned out.”
Abby’s face flushed and Tyree silently drank his coffee that the waitress put down in front of him.
“You gonna be staying around, Ben?” Tyree finally asked. “We don’t get many visitors up here. Most people here have been here all their lives. Unlike Danny here, they tend to stay in Divine till they die.”
Danny snorted at this comment.
Stone shook his head. “Just wanted to see that Danny got home okay. I’ll be heading on soon.”
“You’re welcome to stay,” Danny said. This comment made both Abby and Tyree stare uneasily at him, something Stone was quick to note.
“I doubt he’d find much to keep him here,” Abby said.
“You never know, Ma. Ben here might be looking for a little peace and quiet.”
Stone stared at Danny for a moment. Was the kid a mind reader? “Thanks, but I’ll be moving on soon.” Stone wasn’t going to stay and he didn’t like sitting next to a lawman, small-town or otherwise.
“I do appreciate what you did for Danny. And you can stay in the room upstairs tonight, if you want,” Abby said.
“You’ve done enough for me,” Stone said. “Bed and a good breakfast.”
“Ben needs some work to do,” Danny said. “Needs some cash because he got thrown off that train along with my sorry ass.”
“I’m sure I can find something for you to do, Ben,” Abby said.
“I appreciate it.”
The sheriff said, “You know, you’re welcome to stay over at the jail.”
“Behind bars?” Danny said, laughing.
“On the cot in the back,” said Tyree with slight annoyance. “Probably keep you okay for
one
night. Real quiet. No prisoners in lockup now.”
“Yeah, they’re all up at old Dead Rock,” said Danny. “We passed it coming up. Looks real pretty at night,” he added sarcastically.
Tyree nodded. “Put it on a mountaintop in the middle of nowhere, and for good reason. City folks don’t want supermaxes in their backyard. But they’ll dump them here. Not complaining, it brings jobs to folks, and Lord knows we need them.” He motioned to the door where two burly young men in blue uniforms walked in and sat down at a table. “There’re two of them right there. Probably be heading up to the prison after they fill their bellies.”
