Stone Cold (28 page)

Bagger eyed the commander. “Just so you know, I’m a fair guy, so you can keep a few of my boys to make you look good.” He pointed to Mike. “Including Mike there.”

“Mr. Bagger!” Mike started to protest.

“Shut up,” Bagger snapped before turning to Annabelle and the others. “Get in the SUV.” Several of his men retrieved their weapons and everyone climbed in.

Alex, Annabelle and Paddy slid into the middle seat. Bagger and one of his men got in the front seat, three others in the rear.

Bagger rolled down the window. “I see one car or hear one chopper following us, I start popping people, understand?” He waved to the FBI agents as the vehicle sailed out of the warehouse.

“Where to, Mr. Bagger?” the driver asked.

“Private airport in western Maryland where I had them park the jet. I thought I might need to get away on short notice. I’m calling ahead right now to tell them to warm it up.” He glanced at Annabelle. “I’m sorry to say you three
won’t
be joining us.”

CHAPTER 77

C
ARTER
G
RAY WAS
a remarkable fisherman. Only he had not caught the fish he most prized, and that was because he could not find the right bait. He had burned thousands of man-hours and looked at a mountain of digital files until his eyeballs were ready to fall out. And yet for all that trouble he only had one name to show for it: Harry Jedidiah, son of Lesya and Rayfield Solomon, a.k.a. David P. Jedidiah the second.

He had tried to find Oliver Stone’s ragtag band of freaks: the big man and ex-military Reuben Rhodes that Gray remembered from Murder Mountain; the mousy librarian Caleb Shaw who had not been to his home or job at the Library of Congress in recent days; and Milton Farb, the cherubic genius with OCD. Gray had a dossier on each man, and yet they had simply vanished. Farb and Shaw hadn’t used their cell phones and Rhodes didn’t have one registered in his name. And Rhodes had recently moved and left no forwarding address. Nor was wherever he was living listed on any real estate records, because Gray’s men had checked. Still, with Carter Gray’s resources no one should be able to simply vanish. No wonder these terrorist sleeper cells were proving nearly impossible to uncover. America was too damn big and too damn
free.
In some ways the Soviets had had it right:
Spy on everybody because you never know when a friend might turn into an enemy.

He now turned his attention to locating Lesya’s son. And he had focused on one aspect in particular as the point of least resistance. He rose from his chair in his bunker and flipped on the TV. Then the intelligence chief hit a button on the remote he was holding.

The scene he was looking at was from the Hart Senate Office Building. Roger Simpson clearly would be a target of Lesya’s son. If so he could either hit the senator at his home or office. Gray had already checked the surveillance cameras at Simpson’s condo building and found nothing helpful. Now he had turned to the office.

He watched hour after hour of people coming and going into the building. There were many and their numbers tended to dilute everyone down to useless silhouettes. Then Gray thought of a second angle. He put in another DVD, sat back and started watching the hallway outside Simpson’s office. He spent three hours doing this, methodically checking out each person coming into frame.

Finally.
He sat up and viewed it again. The man working on the door to Simpson’s office. He zoomed in on the man’s face. Penetrating disguises was something Gray had been long trained in. In the cheekbone was that a touch of Solomon? The chin, the eyes, that of Lesya? Contrary to what he’d told the president, he knew the woman well.

He made numerous calls, and the story came into focus quickly. No one from Simpson’s office had called for a government repairman for the door. Simpson’s receptionist, though, reported that that’s what the man had said—that he’d been told to come. Yet he hadn’t gone in the office in the footage Gray had, and a review of the other surveillance discs turned up no such penetration. A bomb-sniffing dog was brought in but found nothing at which to bark. No one bothered to check for bugs, because a bug couldn’t kill a man.

The next step was to take the picture of the door repairman, pare it down to its essentials and run it through every database the government had. They were doing the same with the video feed from the airport and the descriptions that had been received from the nursing home. Even though the computer age had infinitely speeded this process up, it would still take a little time, something Gray did not have an abundance of. Allowing Lesya to be taken by the authorities was not an option. She had far too much she could tell. It was certain that she had passed this knowledge on to her son. And if Carr was with them, none of them could be allowed to live. It would be cataclysmic for the country, for the world. And for Carter Gray.

CHAPTER 78

B
AGGER ORDERED HIS MAN
to take a route through the city instead of getting on the Beltway to Maryland. They stopped once and switched out the license plate on the SUV in case the FBI had it. Then they drove on, blending in with dozens of other similar vehicles on the road.

Bagger sat back with a contented look as he clicked a button on the detonator, disarming it.

Paddy sat very still in his seat, his gaze on Bagger. Annabelle kept her eyes forward. Like Paddy, Alex was watching Bagger, or more precisely, the man’s thumb.

Annabelle said, “A bomb, Jerry? And it doesn’t seem your style to run like this.”

He smiled. “You taught me that lesson. Unpredictable. Sometimes you learn more from getting your ass kicked than you do from winning. You came right at me with the long con instead of targeting the casino. So I gave you some of your con stuff right back at you. Jerry Bagger never backs down, always stays and fights. Well, not this time, baby. And how sweet it feels.”

“Glad I could be such an example for you,” she said dryly.

“So what’s the plan?” Alex said. “Dump us in the woods on the way to the plane?”

“What the hell does it matter to you? You’ll be dead.”

“But once you get rid of us, you’ve got no more hostages. You think they’re going to let you just fly away?”

“They got no idea I have my jet here or where it is. I’ll be outta the feds’ jurisdiction in a couple of hours.”

“We have extradition with just about everybody.”

“I know the gaps there, trust me.”

“And the Pompeii goes down the tubes.”

Bagger turned around to grin at him. “You think a guy like me doesn’t have plenty stashed away somewhere?”

“I’m sure you do. But you’re still not going to get away.”

“Yeah, right. Who says?”

“I do.”

“You’re in a real good position for that.” Bagger glanced at Annabelle and tapped his temple. “You really should’ve gotten some class-A talent, Annabelle. I mean, first Tony Wallace and now this whack job.”

“Would you like to know why you’re not going to get away, Jerry?” Alex said.

“Yeah, tell me, I’m just dying to know.”

Alex looked out the window. They were crossing over the Potomac. “Because the FBI knows exactly where you’re going.”

“Really? How? They telepathic now?”

Alex and Paddy exchanged a glance and the Irishman’s body tensed.

Alex undid a few buttons on his shirt and opened it. Underneath was revealed a wire. “You ever think about searching your hostages for bugs,
moron
?”

“Shit!” Bagger screamed, right as Alex shot forward and slammed the casino boss into the driver, in turn whipping the man’s head into the door glass. Paddy lunged forward and wrenched the detonator from Bagger’s hand. The driver fell limp across the wheel, his foot pushing forward on the gas. The SUV careened out of control and flew across a lane of oncoming traffic.

In the same motion, Alex kicked the passenger door open, grabbed Annabelle and jumped. Annabelle reached out for her father’s hand and clutched it. A second later she was falling out of the truck as her father, with a strength that had stunned his daughter, pulled his hand free.

The last thing Annabelle saw before hitting the street was her father with the detonator in hand looking at her.

The next instant she and Alex hit the pavement, with her landing on top of him. A second later the SUV slammed into the side of the concrete bridge, broke through and went airborne.

Alex and Annabelle jerked up as the explosion rocked the air. The SUV was blown apart as it sailed toward the river below.

Alex covered Annabelle with his body as parts of the truck rained down around them. Thirty seconds later they rose, bruised and bleeding, on shaky legs, staggered to the side of the damaged bridge and gazed over. What was left of the SUV and the men inside was already disappearing into the Potomac.

As the last part of the vehicle slid beneath the water, Annabelle turned and walked slowly down the road. She seemed shell-shocked.

People stopped their cars on the bridge and raced to the side to gawk. Others rushed at Alex and Annabelle.

One man said, “Are you hurt, mister?”

Another, an old gent, exclaimed, “What the hell happened, lady?”

Alex flashed his badge at these folks. “Secret Service. Get back in your cars and drive on. Now!” Then he hustled forward, put a protective arm around Annabelle, flashed his badge at another group of onlookers to back them off and the pair walked quickly off into the night.

CHAPTER 79

T
HE THREE WERE IN A CELLAR
of a building that hadn’t been occupied in over a decade. It was a rat-infested, malodorous place, but right now it was the only location where they felt safe. The light was from a battery-powered lantern, the only chairs mounds of junk. It was the place of last resort for Oliver Stone. He only came here when he had nowhere left to go.

Stone leaned against a dank brick wall and stared at Lesya, who sat on a pile of old carpet, obviously lost in thought. Finn hovered by the door, every sense on alert. Stone turned his gaze to the younger man. “You killed Cincetti, Bingham and Cole, and you tried to kill Carter Gray by blowing up his house with an incendiary bullet after filling the place with gas. You climbed up the cliffs to get to his house and then jumped off the cliffs to make your getaway.”

“Don’t answer him,” Lesya said sharply, shooting Stone a suspicious glance. “I agreed to work with this man to keep us alive, but that doesn’t mean we have to trust him.”

“I wasn’t expecting an answer,” Stone said. “I was just expressing my admiration. It’s not easy to take out killers like that.”

“So do you think you deserve to die then?” Lesya said sharply. “You were a killer too.”

“Frankly, I’ve been dead for a long time.”

“They murdered your wife, didn’t they?” Finn said.

“Because I wanted to get out. And they almost killed me. To make matters even worse, Roger Simpson adopted my baby daughter. She never knew I was her father.”

“Simpson!” Lesya spat on the floor. “That is what I think of Roger Simpson.”

“You said you were working for us all those years ago,” Stone said. “But we were told that you had turned Solomon and that you both were working for the Soviets. That’s why he was targeted for termination, because he was a traitor.”

“They lied to you,” Lesya said simply.

“I know that now. But if you both were working for us, why would they want to kill you? Or him?”

“Because of a highly dangerous and confidential mission which Rayfield and I were given. We carried it out successfully with a group of Russians loyal to me.”

“What was this mission?”

“I haven’t told anyone all these years, not even my son.”

“Why?”

“I was a spy. We do not give up our secrets easily.”

“If I’m going to help you, I need to know the truth.”

“You, the killer of my husband, you make demands of me?”

“We can’t outresource Carter Gray. Yet together we might be able to outthink him. But before I help you I need to know the
whole
truth.”

Lesya did not look convinced.

Finn stepped in front of his mother. “I’ve already scared my family to death. I have no idea if they’re really safe. If I try to go to them, I could be leading Gray right to their door.”

“I told you there would be risks, many of them.”

“Like there was ever a question that I would turn my back on you,” Finn said angrily. “My whole life you’ve prepared me to do this. That it was my duty to make it right. That I was the only one who could do it.”

“Every man has a choice,” Lesya said. She pointed at Stone. “Like this man. He chose to follow rather than question orders and he killed an innocent man.”

“He was a soldier. He was
trained
to follow orders.”

“So were Bingham, Cole and Cincetti,” his mother pointed out. “Why is he different?”

“Because he came to warn us. But for him you and I would be dead now. That’s the difference. I think he’s earned our trust.
Your
trust.”

“I’ve never trusted anyone in my life, other than your father.”

“And me,” Finn said.

“And you,” she conceded.

“Well, if you really trust me, listen to me! You can’t go through your whole life thinking everyone is against you.”

“That philosophy served me well for many long years.”

“And if you hadn’t trusted Rayfield Solomon?”

Lesya fell silent, studying her son closely. Then she slowly turned her attention to Stone. “How well do you know your Soviet history?”

“I was there a lot if that means anything.”

“Do you know the two heads of the Communist Party before Gorbachev came to power?”

Stone nodded. “Yuri Andropov and Konstantin Chernenko. Why?”

“Soviet leaders were generally known for their longevity. Yet Andropov lasted barely thirteen months, Chernenko roughly the same.”

“They were old men in ill health,” Stone replied. “They were filler after Brezhnev died. No one expected either of them to last long.”

Lesya clapped her hands together. “Precisely. No one expected them to last long, so when they died, no one was surprised.”

“You mean they were killed?” Stone said.

“It is not that difficult to kill old, sick men. Even when they’re Soviet premiers.”

“On whose orders were they killed?”

“Your government’s.”

Finn stared at her in amazement. “That’s impossible. Under U.S. law it’s illegal to assassinate a head of state.”

She scoffed. “What does that mean when you’re trying to prevent a nuclear war that will wipe out the planet? Andropov and Chernenko were old men, yes, but they were hard-line Communists. They were in the way. No real change would occur under them. And the Soviet Union was crumbling. Its back was against the wall. There was growing talk of very desperate measures that the Communist Party leadership was considering taking to restore its place as a superpower. That could not be allowed to happen. Gorbachev had to be given a clear field. Because even though early on Gorbachev seemed to be the same as the other party leaders,
we
knew he was very different. We knew things would change under him. He was still a Communist and we knew he would not dissolve the Soviet Union, but we also knew that the threat of war would go down considerably with him in power. Then Yeltsin came along after Gorbachev. No one could have predicted that, but it was under Yeltsin that the Soviet Union was dismantled.

“But we had to get rid of the old Communist Party leaders. We had to! And we told the Americans our beliefs about this. They agreed with us. And Rayfield thought the same. He knew as much about the inner workings of the Soviet Union as any American alive. But we did not come up with the assassination plot. That was the Americans.” She eyed Stone. “You believe it’s true, don’t you?”

“Heads of state have been assassinated before,” Stone admitted. “But are you saying Gorbachev knew of the plot?”

“Of course not. Only a very few of us did.”

“How did your orders come on this?” Stone asked.

“From our contact on the American side.”

“Who was that?”

“Does it not seem obvious? Roger Simpson.”

“And you and your team killed Andropov and Chernenko?”

“Let us say we helped them to their graves prematurely, yes.”

“And Rayfield Solomon was involved?”

“Deeply. The Soviets thought he was working for them.”

“How do you know this was approved by the U.S. government?”

“I just told you. We received the instructions from Simpson. He was our case manager. And he reported directly to Carter Gray. And Gray to the head of CIA.”

“So you just followed orders, without question.”

“Yes.”

“And killed Andropov and Chernenko, two innocent men?”

Lesya and Stone exchanged a long look. “Yes,” she said slowly.

Finn said, “Why would the Americans kill my father and try to kill you if you completed your assignment successfully? Why would they try to paint you as traitors?”

Stone answered. “Because the American government
didn’t
order the assassinations. Possibly it was the CIA, or Simpson and Gray could have done it on their own. And once the deed was done they had to discredit and then get rid of anyone who knew about the murders.” He looked at Lesya. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” said Lesya. “And what do you think they would do to prevent
that
truth from coming out now? It could cause war between Russia and the United States. What do you think they would do?” she asked again.

Finn answered. “They’d kill anyone they had to.”

“And unfortunately we are David and they are Goliath,” Lesya added bitterly. “The Americans are always Goliath.”

“But David beat Goliath. And so can we if we get to them first,” Stone replied.

“Just the three of us?” Lesya said skeptically.

“We’re not alone,” Stone said. “I have friends.”

If they’re still alive.