David Baldacci - Stone Cold

At two minutes after midnight, Finn slipped a video wire under the door of the storage room and did a quick look-see up and down the hall. It was clear. The camera was sweeping the other corridor.

He hustled to Simpson’s office door. The piece of metal he’d inserted in the lock earlier performed only one function, but did it flawlessly. It made the door seem to be locked when it actually wasn’t if you had one special piece of equipment, which Finn did. He inserted the magnetized end of his tool in the lock, pulled out the metal piece and the door clicked open.

Finn immediately went to work. He jogged through the anterooms and into Simpson’s spacious office. He knelt down by the desk’s kneehole and flipped the computer CPU around, revealing the back. He unscrewed the cover, slipped his device inside and connected it to other components inside the computer.

Finn had been able to get his device past security because it didn’t have any explosive materials in it. Instead, the device had been designed to ignite a chemical reaction inside the components in the CPU. It was a reaction that would make the otherwise harmless CPU a bomb, a possibility no one in the computer industry would want you to know. The device had attached to it a wireless receiver with a range of about fifteen hundred yards, more than enough, Finn had calculated. He replaced the CPU’s cover and put the unit back under the desk.

Next, he sat down at the computer and turned it on. The screen powered up but a password was needed. Busy senators didn’t have time to recall elaborate or obscure passwords, so Finn started simply typing in names. The third one did the trick: “Montgomery,” the capital of Alabama.

He typed in the commands he needed and then shut the computer down. The last thing he did was place a miniature battery-powered surveillance device near a flowerpot on a high shelf by the senator’s couch. The vines of the plant provided an ideal cover for the tiny camera. Now Finn had a direct video and audio link to Simpson’s office. He would put it to good use.

He went back to the glass door and checked his watch, waiting for the surveillance camera to click to the other hall. As soon as it did, he was out the door and back into the storage room. He retrieved from his tool bag and powered up a small receiving unit that looked like a BlackBerry, and stared at the picture on the screen. He had chosen the location of his miniature camera well; he could see all of Simpson’s office clearly. He turned off the unit, lay on the floor and went back to sleep.

The next morning he slipped out of the storage room and spent some time going up and down elevators, pretending to be heading to assignments. Then he walked out of the building with a group of other people, caught the Metro out to Virginia, picked up his car and drove to the office.

Now all he had to do was wait for Roger Simpson to return. And what a homecoming it would be for the man who’d helped kill his father.

Yet even more than that, Simpson’s death would mean the end of Harry Finn’s journey. No more killing, no more hearing the story from his mother. Something told him that his mother was only alive because she was waiting for that to happen. As soon as Simpson was dead, Finn suspected that his mother’s life would also end. Revenge was a powerful force, and could keep even death at bay. And when his mother passed, Finn would mourn her, grieve for her, but also be immensely relieved at finally being free.

After doing some work at the office and going over still more details on the plan of attack against the Capitol, he left and picked the kids up from school. He spent an hour of batting-cage time with Patrick, helped Susie with her homework and went over high school choices with David. When Mandy got back from the grocery store, he helped her make dinner.

“You seem to be in a good mood,” she commented as he scraped potatoes in the kitchen sink.

“I had a great day yesterday,” he said.

“I wish you hadn’t had to pull an all-nighter. You must be exhausted.”

“No, I’m actually pretty full of energy.” He finished with the last potato, wiped off his hands and slipped his arms around her. “I was thinking we all could take a trip somewhere, maybe out of the country. The kids have never been to Europe.”

“That would be great, Harry, but it’s expensive.”

“We’ve had a good year. I’ve got some money socked away. Next summer might be a good time to do it. I’ve sort of got things mapped out.”

“How come I’m always the last to know about these things?”

“Just wanted to have my ducks in a row before I presented it to the commander in chief for approval, ma’am. That’s how the navy trains you.” He gave her a kiss.

“You really do have mood swings, mister,” she said.

“Like I said before, I see light at the end of the tunnel.”

She laughed. “Let’s just hope the light isn’t a train heading your way.”

As she turned back to the stove, Finn’s jovial manner disappeared.

A train heading my way , he thought. He hoped his wife didn’t turn out to be prophetic.

AFTER THE SPOILED KIDNAPPING ATTEMPT Caleb and Paddy had stayed at Stone’s cottage, while Annabelle had gone back to her hotel, checked out and moved into another one in a different part of the city. She called Stone with the new address.

Early in the morning Stone received a call from an upset Reuben.

“Milton’s driving me nuts, Oliver,” Reuben complained. “He’s cleaned up my whole house. I can’t find a damn thing. And Delta Dawn’s afraid to even come inside because the damn vacuum’s been running nonstop for hours.” Delta Dawn was Reuben’s hound of no pedigree whatsoever.

His voice dropped to a near whisper. “And you’re not going to believe what he’s done in the bathroom. It looks like something out of a women’s magazine. I’m too damn embarrassed to even take a crap in there.”

Stone said wearily, “I don’t have room for him here, I’m pretty full at the moment, Reuben.”

“I know, that’s why I called. I thought Paddy could come and stay with me while Milton bunked with you. I mean, Paddy’s more my kind of roommate.”

“Finding you the ideal companion is not a priority right now; staying alive is,” Stone said bluntly. “And the less Paddy’s out in public the better.”

Reuben let out a deep sigh. “Okay, I guess I can hang with Mr. OCD for a little while longer. But we better nail this Bagger creep soon. Milton’s already started to talk about taking me clothes shopping. And I draw the line at that shit.”

Several hours later Stone watched as a very irritable and wrinkled-looking Caleb came out of the bathroom dressed in his clothes from the night before.

“Caleb, when the men grabbed you last night, did they say anything?”

Caleb scowled. “Oh, yes. They said if I made a sound they’d kill me! And to think that when I was putting the key in my door, all I was contemplating was having a nice glass of sherry and rereading the opening to Don Quixote .”

“I meant did they mention that they were working for Jerry Bagger?”

“No, they didn’t. Actually, they didn’t really say anything. They didn’t have to, they had guns.”

“Did they mention Annabelle?”

“No, nothing like that. Why?”

“Did they mention someone named John Carr?”

“Who’s he?”

“Never mind. Did they say that name?”

“No.”

Stone really had no way of knowing if the kidnappers were after Annabelle or John Carr. They could have tracked him down through Caleb, Stone reasoned. He had been to the library before to visit his friend. They had all just assumed that the men were with Bagger. But what if they were part of the team that had been killing Triple Sixes? That had killed Carter Gray? Yet if they were after him, surely they could have discovered his alter ego and also where he lived.