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“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 superpower. 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?”

She said nothing, just studied the pavement.

Stone turned away. “Don’t bother following me this time.”

She grabbed his arm. “All right, all right.”

He turned back, looked at her expectantly.

“I’ve also been tasked to watch you.”

“MI6 tasked by the American government to watch me?” he said skeptically.

“The world has gotten a lot more complicated, Oliver. Assets are not what they used to be, even for you Americans. Global cooperation, that’s the ticket these days. We do favors for the Yanks and they reciprocate. It’s not well-known of course, all hush-hush, but it does happen.”

He cocked his head. “Watch me why? Do they think I’m involved in what happened?”

“No. But Weaver has some other agenda in mind.”

“Has he shared it with McElroy?”

“I don’t believe so, at least not completely. But Sir James’s hands are tied.” She stared at him pensively. “What’s in your background that could have prompted this level of attention?”

“I have three decades’ worth of answers and not nearly enough time to explain them even if I were so inclined, which I’m not.”

“If you tell me what’s going on, maybe I can help.”

“You? The person who’s been tasked to spy on me?”

“I thought we were partners on this thing.”

“We are, but only on this thing. Nothing else.”

“So who’s withholding information now?” she said sharply.

“You were withholding things related to the here and now. I’ve never asked about your past missions. And I expect the same courtesy from you.”

“So where does that leave us?” asked Chapman quietly.

“Back where we started,” Stone said sharply. “And let’s leave it that way.”

CHAPTER 58

THEY TOOK A TAXI BACK to Chapman’s car at the parking garage.

She said, “I can drop you off at your cottage.”

“I feel like walking some more,” he replied.

“Look, I’m sorry about not telling you earlier about Weaver. But I have my orders too.”

Stone drew close to her. “If that’s how you want to operate, so be it.”

“Well, how exactly do you operate in that regard?”

“I don’t keep things from the people I’m working with in the trenches. That’s where my loyalties lie. That’s why I told you about Fuat Turkekul even though your boss didn’t want me to.”

Her face flushed. “Okay, okay. I get it. And I am sorry.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He paused. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”

“I’m fine now. All wide-eyed. A firm verbal spanking does it every time.”

After a very long walk Stone reached the Georgetown campus, which was quiet at this hour. He found the community message board, pulled out a piece of paper and a pen, wrote a note and posted it on the board using a few extra pushpins stuck into the cork. On the way to his cottage he used his cell phone to call Harry Finn.

“Glad Reuben’s okay,” were the first words out of the man’s mouth.

“Me too,” said Stone. “He wants to leave the hospital but I think he’ll be safer in there.”

“You think the folks might try again?”

“Even though he told us what he knew, as did Annabelle, there’s no reason not to be careful. Now tell me about Fuat.”

Stone stopped and leaned against a tree as he listened.

Finn said, “If he is going after bin Laden, he’s taking his own sweet time. He gets up, eats, teaches class. Has lunch. Teaches some more. Has office hours. Goes for a walk. Has dinner, goes to his apartment, reads and goes to sleep.”

“No secret communications? No clandestine meetings?”

“Not that I’ve seen. And I would have.”

“I know you would, Harry.”

“They may have him lying low because they know we’re watching.”

“I thought of that too. But it’s difficult to know what to do about it. Look, go home and rest.”

“And Turkekul?”

“I’m going to try a different angle. I’ll keep you posted.”

Stone continued the walk to his cottage. On the next block over his internal senses started tingling. Six o’clock and nine o’clock. He could feel them there before he even saw them. A man behind. A woman to his left. They looked innocuous, uninterested in him. That is, they did to the casual eye. Stone hadn’t possessed a casual eye in over forty years. His hand drifted to his holster. He picked up his pace just a bit because he wanted to get to the next intersection a few seconds faster. A plan had formed based on knowing this area as well as he did.

As soon as he reached the intersection he suddenly veered to his right. A construction Dumpster was up on the sidewalk because the house located there was being renovated. He took up a defensive position behind it, drew his pistol and placed a bead on the woman.

“Agent Stone?” the woman called out.

Stone kept her in his gunsight and said nothing.

“Director Weaver would like to talk to you.”

“I’m sure he would.”

“We were assigned to bring you to him.”

“I prefer he come to me.”

The man appeared next to the woman. He said, “Sir, the director is a very busy person.”

“So am I.”

A car drove past and the old woman inside peered out at the man and woman before driving on. A few other people were walking up the street, not yet in earshot, but they soon would be.


Tags: David Baldacci Camel Club Thriller