Дэвид Балдаччи - Hell's Corner

“Yes. Harry Finn. Former Navy SEAL. He now works for a red cell team testing the security of sensitive facilities in this country and abroad. But he’s taken some time off. And he’s elected to use that time off to help me.”

“I of course know all about his mother, Lesya, and the fate of his father, Rayfield Solomon.”

Stone looked stunned. “I wasn’t aware that was public knowledge.”

“It’s certainly not,” replied McElroy. “I would not have been advised of it except that Solomon was a friend of mine from years back. We had done some joint operations together in both Asia and South America. And I knew Lesya from her days with the former Soviet Union. I was actually one of the first Western intelligence officers to know that she was a double agent.”

“Then you know the whole story? About me, I mean? What I did to Rayfield Solomon?”

“Orders are orders, Oliver. You were following them. If you hadn’t you wouldn’t have been simply put in the clink for insubordination. You would’ve been shot for treason. I know how the Yanks operate on that score, which is similar to how we do things.”

“I could still have refused.”

“But you can’t change that fact now, no matter how much you may want to.”

“Then you also know about Harry?”

“Not everything, no.”

He and Stone exchanged a long glance.

McElroy said, “But you do trust him?”

“He’s proven his loyalty to me beyond doubt.”

“May I ask how you managed that? With what happened between his father and you?”

“We worked it out. That’s all I can say on the matter.”

“I see.” McElroy did not look convinced. “Still, making him privy to Fuat’s presence and role? That was a reach, wasn’t it? I have to say I’m surprised.”

“I can’t ask a man to risk his life without telling him why. Harry knows what Fuat Turkekul means to this country. He will do everything in his power to safeguard him.”

“Which begs the question of why you think Fuat needs additional protection.”

“Agent Gross believed his own people were spying on him. Agent Garchik thinks the same. And we found out last night that the park shooters were not in the hotel but in a government-owned building that required a special security card to access.”

“I see,” McElroy said, nodding his head.

“Did you know that ATF found something in the bomb debris that they can’t ID? That they’ve had to call in NASA?”

“Yes, Chapman reported that to me. Bombs to outer space? Of all the agencies you folks have, why that one?”

“Maybe the substance is something that looks like it might be from a space program. Other than that I don’t know.”

“You folks and the Russians are really the only ones with any space program to speak of other than a few stray private entrepreneurs with lots of money.”

Chapman and Stone exchanged a glance. If McElroy noted this he made no reaction.

“For all I know, NASA won’t be able to determine what it is either,” said Stone.

Chapman spoke up. “Or they may know but won’t say. Or aren’t allowed to say,” she amended.

McElroy looked between them. “Well, we seem to be in an appalling sticky wicket. I’ve had to look over my shoulder for my enemies before, but I’m not sure there’s a degree on the compass right now that’s safe.”

“So what does your PM want?”

“Assurances that we won’t make a bad matter even worse.”

Chapman said, “Can it get much worse?”

“Anything can become worse,” said McElroy. “Oklahoma City to 9/11? The underground bombings in London to the attacks in Mumbai? This could be the tip of the iceberg, as Director Weaver intimated to you earlier.”

“And I haven’t heard from him since. I take it what happened with Agent Gross triggered that?”

“If I had to speculate, I think our Mr. Weaver is truly running scared. Afraid to turn to anyone. So don’t take it personally.”

“That’s a hell of a situation to have with the head of our intelligence umbrella.”

“And yet it’s exactly the one we do have. It’s like when the global financial collapse occurred. Credit markets were frozen. No one trusted anyone else. That’s where we are in the intelligence world right now.”

“And the bad guys keep plugging away,” said Chapman hotly.

“Precisely.”

“And we can’t control what the bad guys do,” said Stone.

“It depends on who they are,” replied McElroy.

Stone thought about this for a moment. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?”

“What do you think I’m suggesting, Oliver?”

“That we back off because certain folks might not like what we find?”

“I think that captures the spirit of the thing, yes.”

“And that’s what you want us to do?”

With difficulty McElroy rose on shaky legs. When Chapman got up to help him he waved her off. “I’m fine.” He straightened his jacket and turned to Stone.

“I’m telling you no such thing. As far as I’m concerned, it’s full speed ahead. And damn the torpedoes, I believe, is how your Admiral Farragut put it.”

“But the PM?” said Stone.

“Nice enough fellow, but he’s out of his depth in the intelligence field. And so long as he sees fit to entrust me with the security of the British people I will act as I see fit. I refuse to be paralyzed. I trust you. I presume you trust me. That’s good enough.”

“Bucking the command carries a price.”

“I’m too old to care, really. But don’t forget my earlier warning. I believe that very little of what we’ve seen so far is actually what it appears to be.”

“Which means that all of our conclusions are wrong too.”

“Perhaps not all. But the important ones, probably yes.”

He looked at Chapman. “You two make a good team, unless my instincts have totally deserted me. Watch out for each other.” He turned to leave. “Oh, and Oliver?”

“Yes?”

“I’m actually quite glad you have these Camel Club people on your side.”

“So am I.”

“Remember, all the king’s horses and all the king’s men.”

“I remember.”

“One more thing. There’s a car waiting outside to take you to the WFO. The FBI wants to talk to you two.” McElroy twirled his cane in the air. “Good luck.”

The ride to the WFO was made in silence; the two agents in front didn’t look at or speak to them. They were escorted into an elevator once they arrived and rode it up to a higher floor. They got off and followed two other agents to a large conference room with a table that would accommodate a dozen. There were only three people sitting at it, though. One was the FBI director, the other his second in command. And the third was Agent Laura Ashburn, who’d approached Stone in the park the previous night after grilling him about Tom Gross’s death.

The director was a short man with a pugnacious face and a brisk manner. Of all the bureaucrats in Washington, the FBI director was the one with real independence. His tenure did not end with an election result. It continued on for the full ten-year term no matter who won the Oval Office.

He asked them to sit, shuffled some papers in front of him, adjusted his glasses and looked up at them.

“Agent Stone. Agent Chapman. I am trying to come fully up to speed on this thing, but the more I get into it the more confusing it becomes. I would like you to start from the beginning and tell me all that you’ve discovered, all that you’ve deduced and all that you are currently speculating about.”

“Does this mean I’m not going to be taken off the case, sir?” Stone asked.

The director glanced at Ashburn and back at Stone. “I’ve read the report. The amended report filed by Agent Ashburn here. Suffice it to say you won’t be taken off this investigation. Now I’d like to hear both of your reports.”