“That’s right, they didn’t.”
“And you were also working with the feds on nailing the casino king Jerry Bagger. Only he ended up blown to pieces in the Potomac River.”
“I almost ended up there myself.”
“You’re a busy man. And your friend too, what did you call her, Susan Hunter?”
“I called her that because it’s her name. And that’s right, she was there too.”
“And how did you get involved with a guy like Bagger? Through the lady?”
“It’s pretty complicated and I’m not at liberty to divulge what happened. But the FBI can probably fill you in. And really I was just helping out a friend again.”
“Man, you got lots of friends.”
“Better than lots of enemies,” Alex shot back.
“Oh, I think you got a few of those too.” Knox rose and handed Alex a card. “You think about any more bullshit you want to tell me, give me a buzz. Meantime, I’ll check everything you just told me out seven ways from Sunday. And just to show my good faith, I’ll give you a two-minute heads-up before they serve you with the arrest warrant for obstruction of justice. How’s that sound, Ford? You have a good one now.” Knox walked off.
Alex just sat there on the bench because his legs, at that moment, didn’t have the strength to support his body.
Thanks, Oliver, Thanks a lot.
CHAPTER 14
KNOX’S NEXT STOP was the Library of Congress’ Rare Book Reading Room where he found Caleb Shaw placing some priceless tomes on a rolling cart. Five minutes later they were sitting in the same small room where Caleb had been interrogated by casino owner Jerry Bagger. On seeing Knox’s credentials Caleb said coolly, “And you want to see me about what?”
“Your friend, Oliver Stone?”
“You call him a friend. I call him an acquaintance.”
“That’s just semantics.”
“I’m a librarian. Semantics are my life. Besides, I haven’t seen him in a long time. I’m afraid I don’t know anything that could help you.”
“Well, sometimes people know more than they think.”
“If I knew more than I thought, then I’d know it.”
His patience clearly exhausted, Knox said, “Okay, let’s cut to the chase, Shaw. I don’t have all day to pull this story together so just answer my questions. Who is Oliver Stone really? And where is he now?”
“Oliver is Oliver. He used to have a tent in Lafayette Park. He’s the caretaker at Mt. Zion Cemetery. But I don’t know where he is. I haven’t seen him for over six months. You can water-dunk me and I’d tell you the same thing.”
“You mean waterboarding, and we don’t do that to people,” Knox said firmly. “Because that constitutes torture.”
“Oh, really?” Caleb replied with both eyebrows tilted to the ceiling. “Then you might want to let your friends in the government know. There seems to be some confusion on that particular topic.”
Ignoring this, Knox said, “Does the name John Carr mean anything to you?”
“Yes, it absolutely does.”
Knox perked up. “Tell me about him.”
“John Dickson Carr is a very famous mystery writer. Well, he’s dead now, but I can recommend several of his works to you. Good stuff.”
“I’m talking about John Carr the soldier, not the writer,” Knox snapped.
“I don’t know anyone by that name. There is of course John le Carré, but he’s also a writer, though he did work in British intelligence at one point. And le Carré is only a nom de plume. His real name is David Cornwell. I could recommend some of his works as well.”
Knox ground his teeth together and reminded himself that beating to death a public servant was not in the best interests of either his investigation or a future peaceful retirement. “This soldier was an American. Very distinguished record in Nam. He died. He was buried. This was over thirty years ago. Then they dug up his grave at Arlington and there was no body in it.”
“Good Lord! I don’t like to disparage my employer, but the federal government really has become so sloppy recently. But to lose an entire body? That really is outrageous.”
Knox stared at him for a moment, then said, “Maybe the body was never in the grave, Shaw. How does that theory grab you?”
“Interesting, but what does that have to do with me?”
“Maybe John Carr and Oliver Stone are one and the same?”
“Well, I don’t really see how that could be. But then again, Oliver never talked about his past and I respected his privacy. He’s a good man, though, one of the most loyal friends anyone could ask for.”
“You sound pretty sure for him just being an acquaintance.”
“I’m a quick and accurate judge of people.”
“How about your buddy, Milton Farb? Was Stone loyal to him?”
“Milton’s dead,” Caleb said firmly.
“I know. I’d like to know how he died.”
“He was murdered.”
“I know that too. Any idea who might’ve killed him?”
“If I did, the police would know, I can assure you.”
“He dies and your buddy Oliver disappears?”
“If you’re thinking that Oliver had anything to do with it, you’re sadly mistaken. He loved Milton like a brother.”
“Right. Anything else you can tell me?”
“Not unless it has to do with rare books.”
He handed Caleb a card. “Call me if you don’t think of anything else.”
He left the room.
At another time in his life Caleb probably would’ve have fainted dead away after such an encounter. However, he was a different person now, especially after Milton’s death.
He simply rose and went back to work, tucking the card into his pocket.
Knox drove to the warehouse where Reuben Rhodes worked, but the big man was not there, nor had anyone seen him for some days. They also did not have an address for him.
“How do you pay the man without a home address?” he asked the foreman.
“He picks up his check in person. I never mail it. That’s the way he likes it.”
“How about his year-end tax documents?”
“I give him that too. In person.”
“I take it the man doesn’t want people to know where he lives?”
“I’m not putting words in Reuben’s mouth but I’d say that was a fair assessment.”
“What can you tell me about him?”
“Good worker, nice sense of humor. Doesn’t like rules too much. Likes the government even less.”
“Did you know he worked in military intelligence for years?”
“He never mentioned that. I knew he was in the army. Helluva soldier, I bet. Man’s strong enough to strangle a bear. Wouldn’t want to get on the bad side of him.”
“I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
“Mister, if I were you, I sure would. Four fellows jumped him leaving work one night. Three of them ended up in the hospital and the fourth fellow would’ve too, but he ran too fast for Reuben to catch him.”
Knox climbed back in his truck and headed off. A moment later he received a text message from Macklin Hayes. They had just tracked down the woman who’d been staying at Stone’s cottage. She was at a hotel in downtown D.C.
Knox floored it. Right now he had one lying Secret Service agent and one federal librarian who acted clueless but wasn’t and an AWOL loading dock worker with a grudge against the U.S. government who could probably break Knox’s neck with ease.
Knox could only hope the lady would tell him what he needed to know. Yet he doubted it would be that easy. If he’d learned nothing else about this Oliver Stone character it was that he commanded a great deal of loyalty from his friends.
Knox would just have to see how long that loyalty would endure. He was very good at pushing such things to their limits. And beyond.