Stone Cold (25 page)

CHAPTER 69

D
RESSED IN THE OUTFIT
of a Capitol Grounds maintenance crewman, Harry Finn stood outside the Hart Senate Office Building with the remote detonator in his hand. He stared up the façade of the building until his gaze came to Simpson’s office. In his other hand was a small device that looked like an iPod. Actually, it was the receiving unit for the wireless pin video camera he’d hidden in Simpson’s office. The images on the small screen were razor-sharp. Simpson was meeting with several of his staff, no doubt reporting back on his vital “fact-finding” mission to the Caribbean.

Finn was waiting until Simpson was alone in his office, for only Simpson was going to die today. He tensed as the staff people rose and left. He then watched as Simpson checked his hair and face in the mirror on one wall, adjusted his tie, walked to his desk and sat down.

The end had finally come. Finn’s finger was poised over his BlackBerry. He would send the e-mail first. He would be able to tell from Simpson’s reaction on the screen that he had seen the photo of Rayfield Solomon, right before he died.

Finn’s thumb descended on the BlackBerry key.
Good-bye, Roger.

“Hey, Dad!”

Finn glanced up, recognizing the voice. “Damn it,” he breathed.

David Finn came running up to him, smiling. “What are you doing here?”

Finn quickly slipped the devices into the duffel slung over his shoulder.

“Hey, Dave, what are
you
doing here?”

His son rolled his eyes. “You going senile on me, Pop? The school visit to the Capitol? You signed the permission slip? Mom gave me the money last night at dinner?”

Finn’s face paled.
Oh shit.
“Sorry, just a lot going on, son.”

David noticed his dad’s clothes. “What’s with the uniform?”

“I’m working,” he said quietly.

David’s face brightened. “Cool, you mean you’re undercover?”

“I really can’t talk about it, son. In fact, you better get going. It’s not really great that you’re here actually.” Finn’s heart was beating so hard it was a miracle his son didn’t seem to hear it.

David looked disappointed. “Hey, sure. I get it. Secret stuff.”

“Sorry, Dave. Sometimes I wish I had a normal job.”

“Yeah, me too.” He jogged back to his friends.

When Finn looked back at the screen, Simpson had left his office.

He stared over at David and his friends. His son glanced over at his father once and then looked away. The group of students marched down the sidewalk toward the Capitol.

Finn walked off in the opposite direction. He would have to try another day. Now he had to see his mother. He’d been hoping to report to her the news of Simpson’s death. So intent was he on what he was doing that he never saw the man emerge from behind a nearby tree and start following him.

After what Max Himmerling had told him the night before, Oliver Stone had come here to check out the office of Roger Simpson too, at least from a distance. Either Gray or Simpson had ordered Solomon’s death and the hit on Stone. Since he couldn’t get to Gray, Simpson was the next best thing. Now, however, there had come a detour. Stone had heard and seen enough of Finn to make him more than a little curious. Finn was good, to Stone’s experienced eye. Others around the area, even the police officers, would have noticed nothing suspicious about the man. But Stone was not like other people. He had run down many leads that led to nothing. His instinct told him this would not be one of them.

When Finn hopped on the subway at Capitol South, Stone did the same. The men rode it to National Airport. Stone followed Finn in. The latter went into a bathroom and came out dressed in street clothes, the duffel still over his shoulder. Now Stone believed that his hunch had just struck gold.

Finn bought a round-trip ticket for a short flight to upstate New York. Standing within earshot, Stone later did the same, using the fake ID and money Annabelle had given him. He went through security, his heartbeat ratcheting up a bit as TSA agents scrutinized his picture on the ID. They let him through and he allowed Finn to pass from his line of sight. He knew which gate the man was going to, after all.

Stone bought some coffee and a magazine. The flight was called. Finn was in the front of the full plane, Stone the rear. Forty minutes later they were wheels up. Less than an hour later, they touched down. Now it got dicey. The airport was small and the patrons few. Finn seemed preoccupied, but Stone couldn’t be certain. If he was the man running around murdering highly skilled killers in their own right, Stone could not underestimate him.

Stone was debating what to do when Finn surprised him. He bypassed the small rental car counter, ignored the taxi stand out front and walked down the road away from the airport.

Keeping an eye on him, Stone stepped over to a taxi and leaned in the window. “Got a layover. Anything within walking distance of here?”

“Some residences, some shops, a nursing home,” the driver said as he idly read his newspaper.

“Nursing home?”

“Yeah, you want to go there for a little R and R during your layover?” He chuckled.

Stone slid in the backseat. “Just drive for now,
slow.
”

The driver shrugged, put down his paper and the taxi pulled off.

CHAPTER 70

H
ERB
D
ASCHLE WAS A VETERAN
employee of the CIA. He’d done years of fieldwork, seen the world, ridden a desk for the last decade and then accepted his current position. It was not all that exciting, and the public was totally unaware of it, but it was vital to the security of the CIA and thus the nation. Or so said the Agency’s internal manual.

For two months Daschle had been coming to this nursing home three times a week and sitting in a chair in the private room of a man who was lying unconscious in the bed. The man was very high up in the CIA and his head was filled with secrets that could never be revealed to the public. Unfortunately, he’d had an aneurysm and was not quite himself. He could say things without knowing, disclosing vital national secrets unintentionally.

That could not be allowed, so men like Daschle came out and stayed with incapacitated Agency employees possessing such sensitive knowledge. There had been a man in the operating room when the surgery was done to relieve the pressure on the brain. There had been an agent stationed in the post-op, and there was 24/7 surveillance here at the nursing home, where it was hoped the man would eventually recover. Even the man’s own family was never allowed to be left alone with him. This had come as quite a shock, because the family was not aware that this husband, father and grandfather even worked for the CIA.

Twelve o’clock came and Daschle rose from his seat as a fellow agent, his replacement for the next shift, sat down. The two men exchanged pleasantries and Daschle mentioned a few items from his watch, nothing of importance. He left the room, dying for a cigarette, and wandered down the hall toward the snack room to buy a can of soda and some crackers before he left. The voices coming out of one room that he passed stopped him. It seemed to be Russian. Daschle knew that language well, having been stationed in Moscow for nearly nine years. Although if what he was hearing was Russian, it was a particularly mangled version. It actually sounded like an amalgam of several Slavic languages. He’d also been stationed in Poland and Bulgaria for a time. He edged closer to the door of the room, which was open just a crack, and listened a bit more. Then he heard enough to make him hustle out of the building. And it wasn’t for a cigarette.

As soon as he was gone, Oliver Stone stepped from around the corner where he too had been listening. He watched the fleeing man.

Damn.

Inside the room Lesya was speaking while Finn sat quietly in his chair.

“So now John Carr rises from the dead like the Phoenix,” she said in her tortured Cyrillic mishmash.

“It seems so,” Finn said. “But I can’t be sure.”

“And the senator still lives.”

“Not for long.”

“What about Carr?”

“I’m working on it. I told you that. But I have no idea where he is or even if he’s really alive. They just dug up his grave. That’s all anyone knows.”

She coughed hard. “Time grows short.”

For you or me?
Finn wondered. He was still thinking about the encounter with his son.
So close. Too close.

“But you will find out. I will help you find out.”

“Let me handle it.”

“I can tell you what I know about the man.”

“I know a lot about him already.” He paused. “I don’t think he’s like the others.”

She looked at him sharply. “What do you mean by that?”

“I think the Agency tried to kill him. I think they killed his wife. And perhaps his daughter. I believe he’s suffered a lot. And he was a war hero too.”

“He is
just
like the others. An evil man. A murderer!”

“Why, because he followed orders and killed my father and your husband?”

“You have no idea what you’re saying, Harry. No idea.”

“You know, I was just about to kill Simpson this morning, when David showed up. He almost caught me.”

“David your son?” Finn nodded and his mother clamped a hand to her mouth. “Good, God. Did he suspect?”

“No, but I promised myself that I would never let this part of my life impact on that part of my life. And now it has!”

Lesya sat down next to him, grasped his hand with her bony one. It felt slightly repulsive to him now.

“Harry, my son, my loving son, it will soon be over.”

“You can’t possibly know that. And it might end with me dead.”

She slowly withdrew her hand from his. “So what now?”

“Simpson and then Carr.”

“You will do this. You swear?”

Finn nodded.

His mother scrutinized him a bit longer and then shuffled over, opened her drawer and removed a photo. She handed it to him. “For Carr,” she said bitterly as she spat on the floor. Then she lay back on her bed. “Let me tell you a story, Harry.”

He sat back, but for the first time ever he wasn’t listening.

When the door to the room opened, they both turned to look.

“What do you want?” Lesya said angrily in English. “I have a visitor.”

When the man started speaking in Russian, the breath caught in her throat.

“Who are you?” Finn asked in English.

“They used to call me John Carr,” said Oliver Stone. He looked at Finn. “You’re right. I’m not like the others. And you both need to get out of here, just as fast as you can.”

CHAPTER 71

W
HEN
P
ADDY CALLED BACK
, Bagger answered after the second ring.

“Yeah?” Bagger said.

“Have you had time to decide that I’m right?” Paddy began politely.

“Do you know how many times I’ve killed you in my mind since we talked?”

“It’s nice to be popular. But I need to hear your answer.”

“How do you want to do this?” Bagger said bluntly.

“We don’t do nothing until I hear from you what I need to hear.”

“Come over to my hotel and I’ll tell you in person. I know she’s in D.C., so you must be too.”

Paddy smiled and said, “What, after you’ve put a bullet in my brain? Don’t think so. Besides, I don’t go into the shitty parts of town, Jerry. You casino dicks always trend to the scum side.”

“Yeah? I make more money in one second than you’ve made in your whole life.”

“Money ain’t everything, Jerry. It can’t buy class. I don’t care if you’re staying at the bloody White House, though I doubt they’d let the likes of you in the door.”

“Well money is everything if you want a
view
of the White House like I got. That costs a grand a night.”

Paddy smiled and pointed at Annabelle, who gave him a thumbs-up sign.

“You going to give me your word or do I hang up? ’Cause once this line goes dead, I won’t be calling back.”

Bagger swore under his breath and then said very slowly, “If you get me Annabelle, I give you my word that I will never come after you again.”

“And that you and your people will never cause me any harm. And you give me your word.”

“Okay.”

“I need you to say it, Jerry.”

“Why?”

“Because I know once those words come off your tongue I’m really safe.”

“And that me and my people will never cause you any harm. I give you my word.” This last part was so painful for Bagger that he slammed his fist down on the table next to him.

“Thank you.”

“You still haven’t explained how I get her.”

“She’s going to walk right into your arms, Jerry. I’ll see to it.”

Paddy hung up and stared at Annabelle, a smile creeping across his face.

“Grand a night with nice views of the White House. Can’t be many of those.”

“Can’t be,” Annabelle agreed.

CHAPTER 72

“
C
AN YOU GET ME A LIST
of the hotels in D.C. that have views of the White House and cost a grand a night?” Annabelle asked Alex as they sat in the same coffee shop as their previous meeting.

“Why?”

“It’s all part of those details I talked to you about.”

“I’ll get the list. You need any help?”

Annabelle started to say no and then stopped. “How good are you on your feet?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you quick on your feet?”

“I’m a Secret Service agent. That’s what we do.”

“Then you can help me.”

Later that day Annabelle walked into the second hotel from the list provided by Alex. She approached the front desk and discreetly flashed her phony FBI credentials to the clerk there.

“What is this about?” he said nervously.

“Potentially a big problem for your hotel, but we might be able to work around that if you cooperate. I’ve got a strike team standing by outside.”

The astonished clerk immediately looked over Annabelle’s shoulder.

“You can’t see them,” she said. “That would sort of give it away, wouldn’t it?”

“I think I should get my supervisor,” the clerk said nervously.

“No, I think you should stand right here and answer my questions, William,” she said quietly, eyeing his nametag.

“What sort of questions?”

“Do you have a guest staying here named Jerry Bagger?”

“I can’t possibly give out that sort of information. It’s confidential.”

“All right, I’ll guess we’ll have to do this the hard way.” Annabelle took a small walkie-talkie from her pocket that she’d purchased from a sporting goods store. “Bravo One to X-Ray strike team. Are you in position to crash all entry points? Affirmative. Squad leader, rules of engagement, no gunfire unless absolutely necessary. Repeat, unless absolutely necessary. There’s potential collateral damage throughout the lobby.”

“What is this, some sort of joke?” the clerk snapped.

On a cue from Annabelle, Alex, who’d been standing behind a pillar in the lobby, walked over. The tall agent looked down at the clerk.

He held out his Secret Service creds and showed the badge and gun on his belt. “Is there a problem?”

The clerk pointed at Annabelle. “She said she’s with the FBI and she’s looking for some guy and they’re going to send a strike something-or-other.”

Alex leaned down close in to the shorter man. “It’s not a strike something-or-other. It’s called a strike
team.
And I’m heading it up. We’re part of a joint antiterrorist unit. I’ve got twenty-five agents in heavy Kevlar body armor with MP-5 submachine guns ready to bust into this place because this ‘some guy’ is number two on our most wanted list right behind Osama. I’ve been after this ‘some guy’ for two years of my life, and I’m not about to let a little prick like you screw it up. So you either get on your computer and tell us if he’s here, or your ass will be the first one I arrest for obstruction.”

“Holy shit!” the clerk exclaimed. “You can do that?”

“With a smile on my face.”

Alex turned to Annabelle and he nodded. “Proceed, Agent Hunter.”

Annabelle took a sheaf of papers from her pocket. “We have a search and arrest warrant for Mr. Bagger and his associates.” She eyed the clerk sternly. “We don’t like putting innocent people in harm’s way, William, but this Bagger is a killer, into drugs, arms dealing, every bad thing you can think of. But if you cooperate we can put a tail on him and take the bastard
outside
the hotel. I think your supervisor would probably approve of that.”

William stared at her for a few moments and then started clicking on his computer. “We don’t have a Bagger listed,” he said in a shaky voice.

“I would be astonished if he used his real name.” Annabelle described Bagger to him in detail. “He’d always come and go with a bunch of muscle.”

Alex added, “I would think a guy like that would tend to stick out here, am I right?”

William nodded. “He
is
staying here, under the name Frank Walters. He has the best suite in the hotel. Wonderful views of the White House.”

“I’m sure. Okay, thanks for the assist, William. But don’t say a word to anyone. You understand me?”

“Absolutely, best of luck, Officer,” he said weakly.

Alex nodded, gave him a hard slap on the arm and left with Annabelle.

Outside Alex called in a team to cover the hotel. Now where Bagger went, so would they.

As they were leaving in Alex’s car Annabelle said, “You
are
quick on your feet. That was great in there.”

“Coming from you that’s a real compliment. So now what?”

“So now we pull the trigger.”