David Baldacci - Stone Cold

He grabbed a set of keys off the hook over the kitchen phone and raced to the bedroom. Clamping a hand over Annabelle’s mouth in case she screamed at being awoken from a dead sleep, he whispered, “Someone’s outside. Get dressed. Fast. We have to roll.”

Annabelle had barely thrown on her clothes and grabbed her bag when two men came through the front door and another pair through the rear. They had body armor and MP-5s and Alex’s pistol would be no match for them. So he opted for going out the door off the kitchen leading to the garage.

“Stop!” one of the armored men called out to them from the hall.

Alex had no intention of doing anything other than running like hell. He only bothered to open the garage door enough to let his Corvette scoot underneath, clearing it by about an inch. He grabbed another gear and they shot down the gravel road past the van right as the front door of his house burst open. As the Corvette spat rocks in all directions, bursts of machine-gun fire zipped over their heads. Annabelle ducked down in her seat.

“Damn it!” Alex cried out.

“Are you hit?” Annabelle said anxiously, as she sat back up.

“No, but I think one of the shots hit the car.”

He screeched onto the main road, keeping his foot mashed to the floor. He looked in the mirror and breathed a sigh of relief. There was no one back there.

“Alex, what’s happening?”

“I wish I knew, Annabelle.”

“Where are we going?”

“I wish I knew that too. Hold on.”

He speed-dialed one of his buddies at the Service’s WFO, or Washington Field Office, where he was stationed.

“Bobby, it’s Alex. Something really weird is going on, man.”

“Like what?”

Alex filled him in. “I don’t know who those guys were, but they were carrying some serious hardware. Find out anything on your end and then call me back.”

He hung up and looked at Annabelle. “Bobby’s good, he’ll be able to dig up something to help us.”

“Why don’t you just go to your headquarters or whatever you call it? We should be safe there.”

“I would except for one little tiny problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ve seen the jumpsuits those guys were in before.”

“Where?”

“At a joint exercise the Service did down at Camp Peary.”

“Is it that bad?” she said, looking at him uneasily.

“It’s one of the CIA’s main training facilities, known as the Farm.”

“The CIA!”

“Their paramilitary units wear that sort of gear.”

“The CIA has paramilitary units?”

“Yeah, is that a secret outside the Beltway?”

“So you’re saying our own government might be after us?”

“That’s right.”

“We got rid of a psychopath casino owner, my father just blew himself up and now the CIA’s on our ass?”

“That sums it up pretty accurately.”

“I have to say you’re taking it very calmly.”

“If nothing else, the Service teaches its agents to remain cool. But I have to admit, it’s getting more difficult by the minute.”

“It’s nice to know you’re human. What now?”

“As much as I hate to do it, we have to ditch my Corvette and find a place to hole up. Then we wait to hear back from Bobby and hope it’s good news. But I sort of doubt it will be.”

THEY JETTISONED ALEX’S CORVETTE, grabbed a cab to Old Town Alexandria and then walked to a nearby motel. Annabelle checked in paying cash and using her fake ID while Alex hid outside. They went to their room and bolted the door.

An hour later Bobby called back. That he was whispering told Alex all he needed to know.

“The official story we just got in is you opened fire on federal agents who were attempting to make an arrest at your house. And that you’re harboring an unnamed fugitive, a woman. None of us believe it, Alex, but the director’s going nuts. Word is he and the CIA director just had a dustup on the phone.”

“Those federal agents were either trying to kill or kidnap me , Bobby! And the only thing I’m harboring is a strong desire to kick somebody’s ass to get some answers.”

“Hey, I’m on your side. You didn’t walk out of the office today and become a felon. But you still better come in and give your side of things.” He paused. “Alex, do you have someone with you?”

Alex stared over at Annabelle, who looked anxiously back at him. “Thanks, Bobby. I’ll be in touch.”

He clicked off and threw the phone down on the bed in disgust. “Okay, we’ve obviously been teleported to an alternate universe where all the good guys are screwed.”

Annabelle sat down on the bed next to him. “Thank you.”

“Look, sarcasm I can do without right now.”

“I’m not being sarcastic. I’m thanking you for saving my life tonight. Twice !”

“I’m sorry, Annabelle. I just didn’t see this twist coming until it was too late.”

“But why would the CIA target us?”

“The only thing I can think of is that I have a connection to Oliver.”

“But why come after Oliver now?”

“A while back when the president was kidnapped and the U.S. was on the verge of a nuclear strike-”

“Oliver was involved in that!”

“We both were. And not by choice. But when that happened, Carter Gray was also involved. And not in a good way. Oliver’s the reason the guy ended up resigning.”

“So Oliver had something on Carter Gray and used that to make him quit his job?”

“You got it.”

“But Gray’s dead.”

“They never found his body.”

“So maybe the man’s plotting from beyond the grave.”

“That’s what it looks like. And we’re trapped right in the middle of it all.”

“We have to find Oliver.”

“Won’t be that easy. If the CIA is involved you can bet they’ve put the hammer down on the other agencies either to cooperate or stand down.”

“But we just helped the FBI,” Annabelle countered.

“Doesn’t matter. National security trumps everything else. So that means our movements will really be restricted. And unlike in TV shows and the movies, it’s almost impossible to run from the cops. You have millions of eyes watching and somebody will see something and then that’s it. And they sure know what I look like.”

Annabelle held up her bag. “I can do something about that. Step into the changing room.” She had Alex sit on the commode in the bathroom while she pulled out a small box from the bag and readied some items. It took an hour, but at the end of sixty minutes Alex Ford no longer looked like Alex Ford.

He gazed at himself in the mirror. “You’re good at this stuff.”

“Comes in handy. Tomorrow morning we can find a wig shop and get a few other clothes and things to improve the disguise. Give me a little more time with you and I doubt Mrs. Ford would recognize her husband.”

“That wouldn’t be hard since there isn’t a Mrs. Ford.”

She packed the kit back up. “I suddenly realized I’m starving.”

“I saw a McDonald’s down the street.”

“Super-size me,” Annabelle said.

As Alex was walking to McDonald’s he got a call from Stone. “Bagger’s history but Gray almost nailed us,” he told Stone. “Paddy’s dead. Annabelle’s taking it kind of hard.”

“I’m truly sorry to hear that, but I’m afraid I need your help, again.”

Alex listened for a few minutes and then told Stone that he and Annabelle would meet him two nights from now, allowing things to settle down a bit.

He clicked off and hoofed it to the McDonald’s, where he super-sized them both. On his way back, his arms full of artery-busting food, he wondered if this might be one of his last meals.