Дэвид Балдаччи - Hell's Corner

He hit more buttons and the TV turned off and the wall slid back into place. He put the remote down and leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee.

“Which brings us to today.”

“Yes sir.”

“All right. I think it’s now time for me to ask why you wanted to meet.”

“I know you’re a busy man so I’ll get right to it.” Stone paused, but only for a moment. “Could you tell me where Agent Garchik is? And what happened to the evidence that went missing with him? Because I know you have the answers to both those questions.”

President Brennan and Oliver Stone stared at each other for an uncomfortably long time. Stone had engaged in such protracted battles of will before with people he considered his employers. The key was never to break eye contact. If you did they interpreted that as a sign of weakness and would pounce. They all had this skill; that was why they were in leadership positions.

“I beg your pardon?” the president said, but there was a slight hitch in his voice that was compelling in its disclosure of what the man was truly thinking.

Stone didn’t answer. He just kept staring at the man, as though he could see the content of every synapse firing. Stone had to convey through this silence that he knew everything, though some of it was only speculation.

He waited.

Brennan said nothing else, his gaze intensifying briefly, but then slowly the burn faded. He stood.

“Let’s take a walk, Stone. I think we need to come to an understanding, and I need to stretch my legs.”

Stone followed him outside after the president slipped on a jacket. The security detail accompanied them, keeping both men encircled at the center of a hard diamond formed by the Secret Service agents. The men and women of the security detail were dressed casually in deference to their boss’s clothes and the rustic surroundings.

The president spoke in a low voice as they made their way along a trail in the woods over which many past presidents had trod.

“Love it up here. Recharge. Forget my troubles, so to speak, at least for a little while.”

Stone’s gaze drifted right and left and up ahead as the agents kept to their marks precisely. Camp David in truth was even better protected than the White House. It was in the middle of rugged terrain, and its perimeter defenders, a large detachment of highly trained Marines, would be able to see any adversary coming long in advance.

The president drew so close to Stone that their elbows touched. Stone automatically looked around to see if the Secret Service agents had an issue with that. However, since their boss had initiated the proximity, the security detail just kept trudging along.

“Stone, we have a problem.”

“The debris. Do we know what it is yet?”

“Have you ever heard of nanobots?”

“Nanotechnology? I’ve read about it in the newspapers. That’s about the extent of my knowledge.”

“Damnedest things. It’s already in our clothes, foods, cosmetics, appliances, lots of things. And most people have no idea it’s even there. Half the scientists think it’s perfectly safe. And the other half say we don’t know enough and it could have unforeseen and possibly disastrous long-term consequences.”

“So they found some of these nanobots in the debris? But I thought they were microscopic?”

“They are. They were only revealed after being put under the scope.”

“Why would they have been there? What would be the purpose in the context of a bomb?”

The president smiled resignedly. “There’s the rub, Stone. We don’t know. What we think is that someone out there has come up with a new application that uses nanotechnology in ways that were never intended.”

“You mean for criminal or terrorism purposes?”

“Yes.”

“What are people speculating? I mean, for why the nanobots were there? There must be some theories.”

“There are. The most popular one is also the most chilling. That theory involves some sort of contagion being grafted onto the explosive. When the bomb exploded it released this contagion that is now in the system of everyone who’s been at that park. And they’ve unwittingly carried it on to others.”

Stone flinched and moved away from the man. “I’ve been to that park. I was knocked over by the blast. I could be contaminated. You shouldn’t be near me.”

“I’ve already been exposed, Stone. Through Agent Gross, Garchik and others. Hell, the FBI director was out there too. But I can tell you that I’ve had every test known to the doctors and they’ve given me a clean bill of health.”

“Is there any evidence of the existence of such a contagion on the debris?”

“Not that we know. But you know what they’re telling me now? That the damn nanobots have the ability to invade and actually change certain molecular structures of other substances. This ‘transformation’ can leave the substances in their original form, but it can change them subtly enough to make identifying them much harder. So right now we don’t believe there’s a contagion problem, but the truth is we don’t know for certain. We’re not even sure what to test for. So all the things the doctors checked me for may be worthless. And furthermore, they could have used nanobots to produce a totally new contagion. It’s like my grandkids playing whack-a-mole. You hit at one hole and the damn thing shows up in another.”

“And Agent Garchik?” he said.

“We thought it best to remove him from the field for a while. He’s currently at an ATF safe house in—”

Stone put up a hand. “I’d prefer not to know the exact location.”

“You mean?”

“In case someone tries to get it from me. Yes.”

“Dangerous times, Stone. Uncertain times.”

“Enemies closer.”

“Right. If only we knew exactly who they were anymore. It’s getting harder and harder on that score.”

“I think every soldier deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan would agree with you on that.”

“It’s ironic, actually,” said Brennan.

“What’s that?”

“I originally sought you out to go fight the Russians in Mexico. Now I find them much closer to home. Possibly right across the street from the White House.”

“You know of course about the gun found and Kravitz’s ties to Moscow?”

“Yes, yes, all of that, but there’s something else.”

Stone waited expectantly.

“When the Soviet Union was a world power they had an immense scientific discovery program. Labs all over the place and tens of billions of dollars to fund those efforts.”

“So nanobots?”

“Nanobots. There are few countries or organizations with the wherewithal to pull something like this off. The Russians are near the top of the list.”

“What do you want me to do now, sir?”

“Your job, Stone. And I promise you that I’ll have your back.”

Stone gazed hard at the man. The president seemed to sense Stone’s doubts.

“I mean that, Stone. You survive this, the slate is clean. You have my word. No more blowbacks against you.” He put out his hand. Stone shook it.

Brennan added, “Why do men like you do the job you do? It can’t be for the medals. And it’s certainly not the money.”

Stone said nothing.

“Why then? God and country?”

“Both simpler and more complex, Mr. President.”

“What then?”

“So I can look at myself in the mirror.”

Stone was flown back to D.C., where he met Chapman by prearrangement at Lafayette Park.

“How did it go?” she asked anxiously.

“Informative.”

“In a helpful sort of way?”

“That remains to be seen.”

“Come on! Any revelations? You met with the president, for God’s sake.”