David Baldacci - Stone Cold

“So Carr and Lesya may be out there. Anyone else on their target list?”

“Only one-Roger Simpson.”

“That’s right, he was with the CIA way back. So Roger was involved with this?”

“Only tangentially. We’ve taken appropriate precautions to ensure his safety.”

“I certainly hope so. We don’t have much of a majority in the senate. Every vote counts.”

Gray’s features remained inscrutable, but his mind did reflect for a moment on the president’s concern for maintaining a majority in the Senate over the life of an individual senator. “Certainly,” he said. “I can see why that’s important to you.”

The president said quickly, “Of course a man’s life has to take priority.”

“I never doubted that,” Gray said. He suddenly wondered if there were recorders in the room and the commander in chief was making that statement for posterity.

“So what do you propose? John Carr’s name has been all over the news. The man must’ve heard about it by now. I don’t think I would have done it that way, Carter. I would’ve kept it on the QT while I hunted for him.”

The president didn’t know that Gray knew exactly where John Carr lived and that he was now known as Oliver Stone. Stone certainly would have found out by now that his grave had been dug up and his secret exposed. He was no doubt now on the run. As quick-witted as the man was, he’d also probably deduced that Gray was alive and actually plotting against him. Gray could have kept it on the QT, and then simply gone to Stone’s cottage and arrested him. Or killed him. But he couldn’t do that, because Stone had a piece of incriminating evidence against him. And Gray wanted it back. Now he had something to bargain with: the evidence in exchange for letting John Carr live. He had wanted Carr to know. He had wanted Carr to go on the run, with Gray’s men keeping him on a long leash. It would make him more amenable to negotiating.

Gray said, “In hindsight that would probably be the best strategy. But we have to keep in mind that we need to avoid dredging up a lot of Cold War history with Solomon, Lesya and the others. Russia is in a fragile state right now, and the last thing we want is for accounts of our old skirmishes to surface. Frankly, sir, both sides played dirty back then, and public sentiment needs to be kept in check here and in Russia. Contact has been made with the Russians and they understand what is at stake. They’ve pledged their support to eliminating the problem.”

“Of course. Well, you can count on my full support too, Carter. Good to have you back in the saddle. Never understood why you resigned in the first place.”

“Perhaps neither did I.” And I never would have if it hadn’t been for John Carr .

Gray was taken by chopper back to his bunker. He looked out the window of the helicopter as it soared along over the Maryland countryside. Down there Carr was running hard, with Gray’s men right behind. And Lesya’s son was probably planning his next attack: on that same John Carr. Which was why Gray had wanted this to become public; he wanted Carr to become a target.

Now all he had to do was get to Carr first, pretend to give him back his life in exchange for the evidence, and then Lesya’s son could have him. And then they would kill the son and Lesya and finally put an end to this once and for all. As for Roger Simpson, he didn’t care whether the man survived or not.

Admittedly, it was a complicated plan. Yet in Gray’s world, nothing seemed to be simple.

WHEN ANNABELLE RETURNED to the hotel, Paddy was waiting for her in her room.

She sniffed the air. “You haven’t been smoking.”

“I tossed them in the trash can.”

“Why?”

“I need to be in fighting shape when we go up against Bagger.”

He looked so determined and yet so frail, like a stubborn little boy hell-bent on standing up to a bully, that for an instant Annabelle’s heart went out to him. She felt her hand reach out and touch him on the shoulder. And then the moment passed and she withdrew her fingers.

Yes, he was dying. Yes, he hadn’t technically let her mother die. But he was not suddenly the greatest father on earth. And he would be dead in six months. She was not going to let herself go down that road. She had grieved long and painfully for her mother’s passing. She would not do the same for him.

“Any luck with getting us some help?” he asked.

“Maybe.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Secret Service agent, Alex Ford. Oliver asked him to step in.”

“This bloke Oliver has some damn fine connections. Who the hell is he? I mean, living at a graveyard and all.”

“I’m not really sure who he is,” Annabelle said truthfully.

“But you said you could trust him.”

“I do trust him.”

Paddy looked hopeful. “Secret Service, that’s good stuff. Maybe they can pull in the FBI.”

She slipped off her sandals and sat down in a chair across from him. “I never thought I’d hear you sound so enthusiastic about having feds around.”

“Circumstances change. Right now, I’d take every bloody cop in the country marching in lockstep with us.”

“With Bagger, it might take that. So if I can get the cavalry how do we do it? I need details now, not generalities. How do we get him to confess?”

“You ran a long con on Jerry.”

“Right, so?”

“So you must have his telephone number.”

“I do. And again, so?”

“I’m going to call him and make him a deal he can’t refuse. I’m going to sell you down the river, Annabelle. He’ll offer cash, a ton of it. But I’ll tell him that’s not what I want.”

“So what is your motivation?”

“You bad-mouthed me to the con world after your mum died. Haven’t had a decent gig in years.”

“You’d have to sell that line one hundred percent.”

He stared across at her. “Not a problem, since it happens to be the truth.”

“So you ship me down the river, then what?”

“That’s where the cavalry comes in.” He added, “Obviously that’s a critical part of the plan.”

She stared at him suspiciously. “Obviously.”

“I’ve got the delivery all worked out.”

Annabelle hunched forward. “Tell me every detail of it so I can tell you it’ll never work.”

“Don’t forget, I’ve run a con or two in my day.”

When he’d finished, she sat back, impressed. It had holes, like all initial plans did, but nothing that couldn’t be sufficiently tweaked. It was actually pretty good.

“I’ve got some ideas we can add to it,” she said. “But the underlying concept is sound.”

“I’m flattered.”

“Jerry will do everything in his power to make sure once they leave the pickup spot they won’t be followed.”

“I realize that.”

“Well, since I’m the bait I have a heightened reason for making sure that we will be able to follow him.”

“He’ll send his boys to do the pickup. He won’t be there, just in case it’s a setup,” Paddy pointed out.

“I know that. And that’s our way in, actually.”

“How do you figure?”

The answer that had shot into Annabelle’s head made her smile. “We get to Jerry first.”

“How are we supposed to do that?”

“You’re going to do it.”

“I am?” Paddy snapped his fingers. “On the phone call?”

“On the phone call.”

“But we still need the cavalry or none of it does us a damn bit of good,” he added.

She put her sandals back on and grabbed her car keys. “Then I’ll go get it.”

THEY SAT AT A TABLE in a coffee shop near M Street and Wisconsin Avenue, barely a mile from Stone’s empty cottage. Annabelle gazed out the window while Alex kept his eyes on her. He was trained to read people’s expressions and body cues. This lady was tough to decipher, but it was clear she was under considerable stress.