Дэвид Балдаччи - Hell's Corner

Chapman turned and took a few hesitant steps away from Stone. When she turned back he hadn’t moved. He was just looking at her.

She came back to him. “What do you want from me?”

“The truth.”

“I thought you said you trusted me?”

“All trust has limits. And it has to be constantly earned.”

“You didn’t tell me that part.”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

“You’re putting me in a very awkward position.”

“I know.”

“I need a drink.”

Stone raised his eyebrows at this. “Okay. But it would be nice if you remained sober.”

“You should’ve seen me doing pub crawls whilst at university. I can hold my bloody liquor.”

She turned and headed off.

“Agent Chapman?”

She turned back to him. “What!” she snapped.

He pointed behind him. “There’s a bar right there.”

She looked where he was pointing. “Right. Well done.” She pushed past him and into the bar.

Five minutes later she’d downed two vodka tonics while Stone sipped on a bottle of ginger ale and eyed her steadily. “You sure you’ll be able to drive home okay?”

“It’s a bloody breeze driving here after London.”

“Not if you’re drunk. A British agent arrested for DUI?”

“I’m not drunk!”

“Okay. Then let’s move on.” He stared at her, waiting.

“I can’t tell you everything. I hope you understand that,” she said.

“I don’t.”

“Well, too bad. That’s just the way it has to be.”

Stone rose. “Take care of yourself.”

She gazed up at him in amazement. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“Stone!”

He turned and left.

He walked block after block, his long legs eating up the pavement in great chunks as adrenaline roared through his body. He thought she was different. He was wrong.

Same old shit, he thought. Same old shit.

He passed the Capitol building and kept going until he recognized the area he was in. Whether he had meant to come here or not he wasn’t sure, but he was a man who almost always followed his instincts. He passed throngs of young men on the street. When several seemed overly interested in him, he stuck his federal badge on his belt and let them see his gun. They immediately backed off.

“It’s cool,” one said.

Another said with a grin, “Hey, Gramps, ever kill anybody with that gun?”

“No,” lied Stone. He held up a finger. “But I have with this.”

The young men looked skeptical.

One said, “You killed somebody with just your pinky? Right.”

He showed them the finger again. “Not the pinky. This is the index finger. It gives far more leverage against the carotid, so it’s easier to crush.”

The men shuffled off.

Stone walked on.

He reached the door, knocked.

He heard the clunks as she came to answer it.

The door opened and Carmen Escalante looked up at him with wide, sad eyes.

“Yes?” she said.

“I was here before,” he said, showing her his badge.

“Yes, I remember. What is it you want?”

“To see how you’re doing.”

“That’s right,” said a voice.

Stone turned and saw Chapman standing a few feet behind him. She came forward. She looked a bit out of breath, and she was holding her high heels in her left hand.

“We wanted to make sure you were okay,” she said, getting her breathing under control and slipping on her shoes.

“May we come in?” asked Stone, still staring at Chapman.

“Yes, okay.”

They followed Carmen down the hall. They immediately noticed that the home had been cleaned and the stench of rotting food was gone. When they entered the small living room, they saw furniture and a large flat-screen television that had not been there previously.

“What happened?” asked Chapman, looking around.

Carmen smiled sadly. “When people saw on the TV what happened to Uncle Freddy, they come and they help me. Clean my house, buy me things. They are very kind.”

“What people?” asked Stone. “People from the TV station.”

“The TV station?” asked Stone.

“Well, they say people donate money. People on the street. And they give me many things.” She pointed to the TV. “Like that. Uncle Freddy would have liked that TV very much. He liked to watch football. Not your kind.”

“Not mine either. You mean soccer,” said Chapman.

“Yes, that is what I mean. And they clean my house and now someone come every day to check on me.” She tapped her braces on the floor. “They say they will also help with my medical bills. And buy me a new pair of these.”

“That’s terrific, Carmen,” said Chapman.

“Would you like something to drink?” she asked. “I have many things now to drink,” she added proudly.

They declined and Stone said, “Will you stay here, then?”

Carmen sat down and they did too.

“I do not know. I have to think. They have a service for Uncle Freddy. I must go to that. Your president, he will be there. And my president too. From Mexico. Though I don’t like him very much. But I will still go. Then I will decide what to do.” She looked around at her new possessions. “I like this place very much. And my new things. Very much.”

“So maybe you’ll stay?” said Stone.

“It is possible, yes.” She fell silent for a moment. “I can go back to school. In Mexico I worked in a doctor’s office. I know computers. My English is good. I can type and file things. I can get a job. I can have friends.”

“You can do all those things,” said Stone encouragingly.

“My family thinks I should come home. They say I do not live in a nice area.”

“But you have to think about what you want. It’s your life to lead,” said Chapman. “And you can always move from here to another place.”

She looked uncertain. “And I can take my new things?”

“Absolutely,” said Stone. “I’ll even come and help you.”

“You will do this for me?” she said, looking at him in wonder.

“Yes.”

“You are strange government people.”

Chapman glanced at Stone. “Yes, I guess we are,” she said.

Promising to return to check on her, they left.

“Where did you come from?” Stone asked as they walked down the street.

“I followed you. Bloody difficult in heels, let me tell you. You walk very fast.”

“Why did you follow me?”

“Because you were right. And I wanted to tell you so.”

“So the truth this time?”

She stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Riley Weaver and Sir James are working together.” She took a breath and said, “God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this. I’ve broken just about every professional rule MI6 has.”

“That’s all right. Most agencies have too many rules.”

“Bloody easy for you to say,” she replied irritably.

“Why are they working together? To what purpose?”

“It wasn’t Sir James’s idea, that I know.”

“So he was persuaded?”

“As Sir James said, your president and our prime minister get along rather well. And America is the super-power. Everyone else just follows its lead.”

“So why keep it from me?”

“Weaver is afraid of you. That’s quite clear from what I’ve seen and heard.”

Stone thought, If he knows what I did to his predecessor, I would be afraid of me too.

“What exactly is your role in all of this?”

“I’ve been tasked to investigate and solve this crime.”

“Even though your prime minister was clearly not the target? Does MI6 have that much free time on its hands to allow one of their best agents to stay over here and assist us in our criminal investigations?”