Hell's Corner (34 page)

^“
A
NYTHING INTERESTING?
” Chapman asked as she watched Stone gazing over the message board. His eyes focused on one piece of paper set about two inches from where he’d put his message the night before. He read over it, quickly translating the coded response.

“Yes. Let’s go.”

The trip was short and they soon arrived at the apartment located over a dry cleaner’s. Adelphia answered their knock and motioned them in. They sat down. Stone slowly looked around. “I didn’t know you had moved back in here.”

“I haven’t,” said Adelphia. She had on a long skirt, a white tunic and a string of green beads. Her black-and-silver hair was pulled together at the nape of her neck. “This is just temporary.” She paused. “I was surprised to see your note.”

“I’m glad to see that the little code we came up with is still effective.”

“What can I do for you?” she prompted.

“How is Fuat Turkekul?”

“Is that why you came here? To get information about him?”

“Is that a problem?”

“I know you are having him followed. That could be very dangerous for Fuat.”

“The shots in the park came from a government office building. How dangerous do you think that is?”

Adelphia sat back, her features inscrutable to a stranger like Chapman. But Stone could tell she was both intrigued and concerned.

“You have confirmed this?”

“To my satisfaction, yes.”

“And why tell me? I am not part of the investigation. My mission has to do with Fuat, nothing more.”

“What if one is connected to the other?”

“I do not think that likely.”

Chapman, who had been sitting there silently, blurted out, “But can you just dismiss it like that? You have to account for the possibility. Otherwise you’re not doing your bloody job.”

Adelphia didn’t bother to look at her. “I didn’t expect you to partner with such a nervous person, Oliver.”

“
Do
you discount the possibility?” he asked. “To such a degree that you won’t prepare for it?”

Adelphia hunched forward. “Fuat is prepared for anything.”

“He eats, he teaches classes, he reads. I suppose somewhere in there he works on finding bin Laden, even if he is seven thousand miles away.”

“As you were told, the plans are in the preliminary stage.”

“Very preliminary. Ever since my colleague has been following him he’s done very little prepping.”

“It is not always obvious.”

“It is somewhat obvious, Adelphia. To the trained eye.”

“What exactly are you saying?”

“That what I was told about Fuat may not be true.”

“In what way?”

“That he’s not actually going after Osama bin Laden.”

Adelphia sat back. Stone noted that the fingers of her left hand twitched a bit.

He continued, “It’s logical, isn’t it? To throw me off stride you tell me Fuat is going after the most sought-after terrorist since Hitler. You probably counted on the fact that the name alone would preclude the need for further explanation.”

Chapman said, “You mean he’s not going after bin Laden?”

Stone kept his gaze on Adelphia. “Well?”

She rose and strode over to the window and looked out.

“There’s no one out there,” he said. “At least no one connected to me. But maybe that’s not what you’re concerned about.”

She turned back to him. “This is not something you want to become involved in, Oliver. It really isn’t. I say this to you as an old friend.”

“I’m already involved.” He rose. “And I have one more question for you.”

“I promise no answer.”

“Turkekul wasn’t at the park to meet with you that night. So who was he really there to see?”

CHAPTER 62

T
HEY LEFT
A
DELPHIA’S APARTMENT
without the question being answered.

Chapman said, “How did you figure they weren’t going after bin Laden? And that Fuat Turkekul was meeting with someone else that night?”

“I suspected each was true. Adelphia confirmed both for me just now.”

“But she didn’t say anything.”

“That’s what confirmed it.”

“But why were you suspicious in the first place?” persisted Chapman.

“You don’t task a man to chase Osama bin Laden and then plunk him in a teaching position in a university in the West, unless you believe bin Laden is hiding out on the East Coast somewhere. It makes no sense. That’s why I had Harry tail him. Not really for protection, but to see what he was doing. Or rather
not
doing.”

“And the fact that Adelphia wasn’t at the park to meet with him?”

“You don’t arrange a meeting like that and then just not show up. They had a message board arrangement. The meeting was late at night. It’s a ten-minute cab ride from Georgetown to the park. Turkekul could have checked the board right before he left. If she couldn’t make the meeting, Adelphia could have posted that message up until a few minutes before he would leave for the rendezvous. She answered my post promptly, which tells me she checks it often. There was no need for him to stand around in the park waiting for her. That is inefficient and stupid. And potentially lethal.”

“But if not her, who? And
did
he meet with anyone?”

“Not that I saw, no.”

“What does that tell you?”

“That the meeting might have been off-schedule.” He added, “Not something his superiors knew about.”

“If that’s the case, why cover for him?”

“If Turkekul is a valuable asset he would be protected after the fact. And even if the meeting was off-schedule that doesn’t mean it was off-mission and thus could have been important to his superiors.”

“Could he have been set up, then?”

“They didn’t kill him. They could easily have done it by firing a few minutes earlier. No, he wasn’t the target.”

Chapman touched her temples. “My poor head is literally swimming with possibilities and none of them unfortunately make any sense.”

They returned to the park. Stone walked it from north to south and east to west while Chapman dutifully followed looking alternatively curious and bored.

She finally said, “Are you thinking if you walk the scene of the crime, inspiration will strike?”

“I’m not looking for inspiration, just answers.” He gazed back at the building where the shots had presumably come from. “Shots fired. Everyone runs. Padilla jumps into the tree hole. The bomb detonates.”

“The bomb was detonated prematurely. And we need to find out who the actual target was. It keeps coming back to that. That bomb was really supposed to go off when this park was filled with VIPs. If we can determine the target we can reverse engineer it back to the people behind the plot. At least hopefully we can.”

Stone shook his head. “We’re still missing something. The picture is still off. Way off.” He paused. “Okay, let’s change direction for a minute and do a simple process of elimination.”

“How?” she asked.

“If Turkekul wasn’t meeting with Adelphia, who was he going to meet with?” Stone looked around the park. “Not your security man. Not Alfredo Padilla obviously. Not me.”

Chapman gasped. “Wait a minute. You mean the woman?”

Stone nodded. “Marisa Friedman.”

CHAPTER 63

^“
W
HY
F
RIEDMAN
?”
ASKED
C
HAPMAN
as they walked along H Street.

“She was at the park. As I said, simple process of elimination.”

“But she explained what she was doing here. She voluntarily came forward, in fact.”

“I would too, if I were guilty of something. Her face was caught on the video feed. If she didn’t come forward it would look very suspicious. This way she defused that suspicion and appeared to be an upright, law-abiding citizen.”

“An adulterous upright citizen. But she has an office right over there.” Chapman pointed to the line of town houses on Jackson Place. “It would make perfect sense for her to be in the park.”

“Please put your hand down just in case she’s watching. They’ve allowed the business owners back in now.”

Chapman dropped her hand and looked chagrined at her indiscreet action. “Sorry.”

“She said she’s a lobbyist, and maybe she is. But maybe she’s more than that.”

“So she could have been Turkekul’s unscheduled meeting?”

Stone said, “If he had such a meeting planned, she was the only one in the park he would be meeting with.”

“But if so, he might have told Sir James and the others about it.”

“Then perhaps they’re covering for her too.”

“Because she’s part of his mission, whatever that is?”

Stone nodded.

“So her being in the park was because of Turkekul being there?”

“If my theory is right, yes,” replied Stone.

“But did they meet?”

“They left at the same time. I saw no interaction between them while they were in the park. She was on her phone but he wasn’t.”

“And maybe they were going to meet but—”

“But then the guns and the bomb went off.”

“What do you think they were meeting about?”

“I have no idea. But I doubt it was about finding bin Laden.”

“So what do we do with this fresh angle?”

“If we try to go after her and she is being covered by higher-ups we might get our butts handed to us.”

“So we can’t touch her?”

“Officially, no. But there might be another way.”

“How?”

Stone took out his phone and made a call. “Annabelle? I have another assignment for you. If you’re willing.”

The next day Annabelle and Caleb walked into the office of Marisa Friedman. They had made an appointment and Friedman was waiting for them. Annabelle had changed her appearance greatly. The hair was short and blonde, her face made up, her clothes European, her accent an authentic mix of German and Dutch. Caleb was dressed all in black and had his thinning hair slicked back. He had on square-cut spectacles and a bit of stubble on his face. He carried an unlit cigarette and explained it by telling Friedman it was the only thing that worked for him in trying to quit.

She lifted up her sleeve and showed him the Nicorette patch on her arm. “I’m kind of in the same boat.”

Friedman led them back to her large office on the top floor with windows overlooking Lafayette Park. The space was decorated in a manner that suggested Friedman had traveled widely, had good taste, and the money to exercise those heightened sensibilities.

“We’re just now back in our space,” she said.

“Why is that?” asked Annabelle.

“There was a bombing in the park. And gunshots.”

“My God!” exclaimed Caleb.

“You didn’t hear?” said Friedman with a surprised look.

“As you might have deduced from my accent, I am not from this country,” said Annabelle.

“And I’m an expatriate myself,” added Caleb jauntily.

“But the Americans like their bombs and guns,” said Annabelle. “At least that is what we are told.” She shrugged. “So it is normal, then?”

“No, it’s not normal, thank God.” Friedman leaned forward. “I have to say that your phone call has intrigued me. You want to bring green jobs from Europe here? Can I ask why since green has already taken off where you are?”

Annabelle made a face. “It’s the bureaucracy. The, what you call, red tape. It is killing us. Our business cuts across many different geographic boundaries. The EU makes all businesses jump through hoops that are often impossible and usually totally ridiculous. Our business model is good. Our technology sound. But if we cannot implement it?” She shrugged again.

Caleb added, “Now, I have some experience over here though I’ve been gone a long time. My friends tell me that America is the place to be. That you want green jobs. That the red tape is not so bad. That things can be done quickly and that there are also government incentives to do so.”

“That’s true. What country did you settle in?” she asked suddenly.

“France.”

She asked a long question in French. Caleb answered her promptly, throwing in a joke at the end that made her laugh.

Annabelle said something in German and Caleb answered her in German.