Дэвид Балдаччи - Hell's Corner

Stone didn’t deliberate for long. He turned to Turkekul. “I’ll say nothing, for now. However, despite what you’ve said, if it becomes apparent that you were the target I would assume you would want to know that?”

Turkekul said, “You assume correctly. And I thank you for that.”

“I’ll fill Chapman in.”

“Actually, she needn’t know,” McElroy said quickly.

Stone shook his head. “I don’t keep things from my partner. I know, she knows.”

McElroy looked indecisive. “I’ll leave it up to you, then.”

Stone rose from the couch. “One last question. Adelphia. How was the communication made between you two as to the location?”

“I left a message up on the main notice board in the middle of Georgetown campus,” said Adelphia. “It was in a code that Fuat and I worked out.”

“The same code we used to use when we both were at the park?”

“Very close to it,” she admitted.

“Don’t trust secure electronic communications?” asked Stone.

“There are no such things, my friend,” said Turkekul. “Several of my colleagues have found that out to their great detriment.”

McElroy added, “The insecurity of electronic systems has forced us all back in some ways to the old spy dodges. A bit less efficient, but we all get to use our ingenuity instead of relying on machines to do it for us. I actually like it a lot better. But then I’m an old Cold War relic.”

McElroy walked Stone out. “I’m sorry it had to be done this way. I would have preferred otherwise, Oliver. It wasn’t fair to you.”

“Life is rarely fair.”

“I understand the investigation proceeds slowly.”

“If at all.”

“It has to make sense, somehow. If it doesn’t, much of what I believe in life goes up in smoke.”

“Can I expect any more surprises along these lines?”

“I hope not. As for Chapman?”

“I’m going to tell her. And you won’t convince me otherwise.”

“You’re probably right.”

“Take care, Sir James.”

“Oliver, watch your back.” He paused and added, “And your front too.”

“You know something I don’t?”

“No, but the old relic’s antennae are tingling something fierce.”

“One more time,” said Stone. “Are you withholding anything else from me?”

“Good luck, Oliver. And please take my advice.”

“So what did you learn?” Chapman asked Stone when he returned to Lafayette Park.

Stone led her off to the side and away from the other investigators in the park. He told her everything that had happened, including her boss’s appearance and Fuat Turkekul’s mission.

“Good God,” she exclaimed. “I can’t believe it.”

“What, the underlying facts, or that you weren’t in the loop?”

“Both, I guess.” Her gaze was downcast, her look one of lost confidence.

Realizing what she was thinking, Stone said, “McElroy plays things very close to the vest. And he compartmentalizes. And he withholds when he deems it necessary. I expect you know that.”

“I do, it’s just...”

He gripped her arm. “Don’t let this destroy the faith you have in yourself. That will help no one, least of all you. Keeping you in the dark is not a reflection on your ability. It’s just the way it is. We’ve all had to suffer through that.”

She looked up, drew a breath and her resolve seemed to stiffen. “You’re right.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “I do appreciate you telling me, though.” She removed her hand. “Did he ask you to do that?”

“Do you want the truth?”

“Yes, please,” she said firmly. “It would be refreshing, actually.”

“Initially he didn’t want you to know. But when I told him I don’t keep things from my partner he agreed with my decision to tell you.”

Chapman studied him closely, evidently trying to determine if he were telling the truth. “Good, enough said on the subject.”

“So where were you this morning?” asked Stone.

She looked sheepish. “I was actually having a lie-in. I’ve had about two hours’ sleep in the last forty-eight, and the jet lag really kicked in. I was a bit knackered. And I didn’t think I could manage to be much help when I could barely stay awake.”

Stone glanced over and saw Agent Garchik striding toward them. “Maybe he’ll have some answers.”

They met him at the barriers and followed Garchik back to ground zero. The ATF agent’s expression was both curious and concerned.

“You have some developments?” prompted Stone.

Garchik nodded as he stared down at the crater. “You could say that. Those pieces of leather we found came from a Wilson basketball.”

“A basketball!” exclaimed Chapman.

“You’re sure it was involved in the explosion?” Stone asked.

“I can’t think of another reason why bits of a basketball would be in Lafayette Park. And the scorch marks showed they were quite near the blast seat. You could say right on top of it.”

They all looked down at the hole.

“Your conclusion?” Stone asked.

“I think the bomb could very well have been in the basketball and the ball was placed inside the root ball of the maple. That location would tally with the debris field and other indicators we found.”

“A bomb in a basketball?” said Chapman.

“It would work,” said Garchik. “And it’s been done before by a few people, all dead now. Cut it open, put the bomb inside, reseal it, pump it up so that if anyone held it, it would feel legit. I wouldn’t advise dribbling the sucker, though.”

“How was it detonated?” asked Stone.

“Remotely would be my best guess, right now. Not a timer.”

Stone said, “But we have information that the bomb dogs had patrolled the site the night of the bombing. Wouldn’t they have sensed it? You said they couldn’t be fooled by anything.”

“They can’t. But they do have limits.”

“What exactly are those limits?” asked Chapman.

“Typical scent radius for the dogs is about three feet in all directions aboveground. And they can sniff out explosives buried up to roughly the same distance below-ground.” Garchik pointed at the crater. “This hole before the bomb went off was over four feet deep and well over eight feet across.”

“But uncovered,” Stone pointed out.

“Yeah, but the root ball was huge. Six feet wide by over three feet high.”

Stone realized something. “And there was yellow warning tape up cordoning off this area. So the dogs might not have gotten within ten feet of it.”

“That’s right,” said Garchik. “So whether the bomb was here when they made their pass or not, chances are good they wouldn’t have detected it unless their handlers took them past the tape and let them climb right on top of the root ball. Which I sort of doubt was the case.”

Stone’s gaze immediately swung toward the White House. “Then we need to talk to the people who installed it as soon as possible. But first we need to look at the video.”

“Video?” said Chapman.

“The video feed will show when that tree went in and who did it. It will also show if anyone went back in there afterward. And what they had with them. Like a bag big enough to place a basketball in.”

Garchik said, “It would be pretty hard to slip a basketball inside a root ball and not have someone see you. There’s a burlap sack around it to hold the dirt and roots together, but it would still be complicated. You’d have to get the ball there somehow, get down into the hole, slit the sack, put the ball in and somehow patch the sack back up.”

Chapman added, “And he couldn’t exactly waltz it past the White House guards. I’m assuming the workers have to go through checkpoints.”