Дэвид Балдаччи - Hell's Corner

He looked down at it and then glanced at Reuben. “Do you know what this is?”

Reuben nodded. “Figured you would too.”

Chapman looked at it over Stone’s shoulder. “That’s a 9mm Kashtan submachine gun.”

“Yes, it is,” said Stone. “Russian made.”

Reuben grimaced and clutched his arm. “That’s right. Russian made.” He glanced up at Annabelle. “The weird language those guys were talking when they took down the hoop?”

“You think it was Russian?”

“I’d bet a year’s pay it was. Not that that’s a lot of money, but still.” He grimaced.

“Weird language?” asked Stone.

Annabelle started to explain what had happened, but Stone stopped her. “You can fill me in later. We need to get him to the hospital.” Stone put an arm under Reuben’s shoulder and helped him to his feet. He turned to Annabelle. “Stay here and call Harry and make sure he’s okay and then do the same with Caleb. Then join us at Georgetown Hospital.”

“Right.”

Chapman got on the other side of Reuben and the three made their way slowly to Chapman’s car. The ride to the hospital was quick, and while Reuben was being checked out Stone sat in the waiting room with Chapman and Annabelle, who had just gotten there.

“Did you get ahold of them?” asked Stone.

She nodded. “Both okay. Finn is still on assignment. Caleb is at his condo. I told Harry to be extra careful and Caleb to stay put.”

“Good, now tell us what happened in Pennsylvania.”

She explained what had happened in the bar and afterwards. When she gave him the exact location of the attack, Stone hurried off to make a call. When he came back she picked up the story again. “So after I found Reuben we circled back to the highway. Guy in a truck stopped, asked no questions and let us hop in the back. I managed to get the bleeding to stop, but I was afraid Reuben was going to pass out on me. The guy dropped us off at a car rental place. I got us another ride and drove back to D.C. as fast as possible. I wanted to stop and get him medical attention, but he wouldn’t let me. Said we had to get to you. And show you that gun.”

“Did you get a look at any of them?”

Annabelle took a deep breath. “Not really, but one of their trucks flipped over. Some of them have to be hurt or even dead. If you get some people up there to check on it. I gave you the location.”

Stone said, “I already made the call. They’re heading there right now.”

Twenty minutes later Stone got a response. He listened, asked a few questions and then put his phone away.

“The truck is gone.”

“That’s impossible. It flipped over. I saw it. The people had to have been hurt, maybe killed.”

“But you can have all that cleaned up in less than thirty minutes. They did find some shell casings and an indentation in the dirt where the truck rolled and a few bits of wreckage, but that was all.”

Annabelle said, “These people are good.”

Stone looked at Chapman. “Yes, they are. They clean up after themselves really well.”

“Submachine guns,” said Chapman. “Heavy firepower. And he had what, a pistol?”

“That’s right. But he said he was going to do what you would do, Oliver. Be unpredictable. So he waited for them to start reloading and then he charged their position. I guess they didn’t expect that.” She shuddered and let out a gasp. “I thought for sure he was dead.”

Stone squeezed her hand. “But he’s not. The doctors said he’s going to be fine. He’s just out of commission for a while.”

Annabelle said, “But since it’s a gunshot wound won’t the hospital have to report that to the authorities?”

Stone took out his shield and held it up. “Not after I showed them this and told them Reuben was working with me.”

“Oh.”

“But if the blokes were Russian, how does that connect with what we found out tonight?” said Chapman.

Annabelle looked at her wide-eyed. “What did you find tonight?”

Stone told her about the possible origins of the shots from a U.S. government building. “It’s undergoing renovation so it’s empty, but it’s supposed to be secure nonetheless. We talked with the guards there. None of them remembered anyone coming to the building that night, certainly not carrying automatic weapons.”

“Is there only one entrance into the building?” asked Annabelle.

“The very question I put to them. They said not if one had a key card with the necessary authorizations. With that someone could access other entrances.”

“Do we know if someone did that?”

“Checking it out now,” said Stone. “But I’m not hopeful.”

“Why?”

“Either the card will have been stolen or cloned or something else. And yet the next question is, why go to all the trouble of leaving evidence behind at the Hay-Adams and not actually do the shooting from there? What did the office building have that the hotel didn’t?”

“Well, the building was empty. The hotel wasn’t,” pointed out Annabelle.

“They still had to get to the rooftop garden. And it was empty that night. No, they wanted us to think they were at the hotel. They needed that building. Why?”

Chapman said, “Just add it to all the other questions we don’t have answers for.”

“But it is important,” Stone said.

“Why?” asked Annabelle.

“Because right before you and Reuben got to the cottage, someone sent a team to kill us. They almost succeeded, and would have except for my friend here.” He indicated Chapman. “How did you learn to move like that?” he asked her.

“I took ballet as a lass. Hated it back then, but I have to admit, it does come in handy when someone is trying to murder you.”

“You think the attack had something to do with what you found out?” asked Annabelle.

“I think it had everything to do with the fact that we discovered the gunfire came from a supposedly secure federal building.”

The next morning Chapman was at Stone’s cottage by seven o’clock, and she wasn’t alone. James McElroy slowly made his way into the cottage and took a seat in front of the fireplace. He’d changed his jacket and wore no tie. His open-collared shirt had a checked pattern. His hair was neatly combed and his slacks pressed. But his reddened eyes and saggy face spoke of the stress he was enduring.

“Chapman told me about your little adventure here last night.” He looked at the damaged door and eyed the bullet holes. “Not quite as civilized as a nightcap,” he pointed out.

“No,” agreed Stone.

“U.S. government building, eh?”

“Yes.”

“Complicates an already overly complicated situation.”

“But it’s the first time we’ve gotten under their collar, so to speak.”

“Well, that is something, I suppose.” His expression changed. “Spoke to the PM this morning, Oliver,” he began.

“And?”

“And he’s not pleased.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, neither am I. But we’ve only been on the case a few days. And in that time four people have died and my friends nearly made it six.”

“Yes, Agent Chapman filled me in on your decision to use your, what was it again?”

Chapman said, “The Camel Club.”

“Right, this Camel Club group to help. I have to say I find the name quite imaginative.”

“And do you disapprove of my use of them?”

“Personally I’ve found the utilization of irregular forces a stroke of genius, particularly when the paid troops are lacking. Whether that was the case here or not, I’m not prepared to say. But that’s not the issue.”

“So what exactly is the problem?”

“I understand that you put a man on Fuat Turkekul?”