“Sure I do. My problem was when my superiors said one thing and did another. And I can see that hasn’t changed either.”
“And when that happens what do you do? Eliminate the offender?”
Stone, who was sitting at the window of a building across from the parking lot that he’d accessed through a never-locked rear door, stared down at the NIC director.
Okay, next question answered. He knows I killed Gray and Simpson.
“The past is past.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then you’re a fool, and more than that you’re doing a disservice to the country you were sworn to protect.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” barked an enraged Weaver. “I’ve fought, bled and killed for my country.”
“So have I,” retorted Stone.
“What exactly do you want?”
“I want you to stop screwing with me. If you want to help, I welcome it. If not, just stay the hell out of my way.”
“I am the head of the nation’s intelligence service.”
“Yes, you are. So start acting like it, Marine.”
Weaver flinched. But before he could respond Stone said, “And the next time we meet it might be over a beer talking about old times, because the traitor who’s trying to pull something really catastrophic is either dead or awaiting trial. I can’t believe you’d have a problem with that.”
Weaver nodded slowly as he visibly calmed. “Okay, Stone. We’ll play it your way. For now. I guess I understand how you survived all those years.”
“I guess so.”
“Stone?”
“Yeah?”
“What do you think is going on?”
Stone stood there in the darkness deciding how to respond. “You were wrong. The guns and the bomb were done by the same party.”
“How the hell do you know that?”
“There’s no way I believe in a coincidence that big.”
“Okay, why?”
“Something big, Weaver. On your watch. You were right to be concerned.”
“How big?” asked Weaver nervously.
“Big enough to make us forget the bullets and the bomb.”
“We have to stop it, Stone.”
“Yes, we do.”
A minute later Weaver and his security detail were gone. Stone came down from his hiding place. He heard the sound and whirled around in time to see Chapman emerge from behind another building. She holstered her gun and joined him.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I saw what went down on the street with the two agents and followed you here.”
“Why?”
“You’re my partner. I needed to make sure you were okay.”
After a long gaze passed between them, Stone said, “I appreciate that.”
“And I heard the essentials. I appreciate you covering for me with Weaver.”
“It’s what partners do.”
“Come on, I’ll give you a lift home.”
This time Stone accepted the offer.
When they got there he said, “You take my cot, I’ll sleep in the chair.”
“What?”
“Cot and me in the chair.”
“I heard you the first time. But I’m okay to drive.”
“No you’re not. You almost hit two pedestrians and three parked cars on the way here.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said with a bit less confidence.
“The last thing I need is for my partner to be taken from me because she got busted for drunk driving.”
“Well then let me take the chair.”
He pointed to his cot and said, “Go.” He gave her a shove in the back.
Looking bemused, Chapman slipped off her heels, padded to the cot and drew the privacy blanket closed.
CHAPTER 60
THE NEXT MORNING CHAPMAN SLOWLY WOKE, turned to the side, fell off the cot and hit the floor hard.
“Bloody hell!”
She rubbed her head.
She glanced up to see Stone standing in front of her holding two cups of coffee.
“Good morning,” he said pleasantly.
She sat on the cot and took the offered coffee. She winced and rubbed her head as she drank some.
“My head feels quite ready to burst.”
He said, “Four mojitos, two vodka tonics and a glass of port. And that’s just what I saw. I’m stunned you still have a head left.”
“I told you I could hold my liquor.”
“Why don’t you shower and then we can grab some breakfast.”
“Wonderful. I’m famished. I know a nice restaurant.”
“I know a better one.”
“I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
Forty minutes later they were in downtown D.C. and in line with a group of construction workers ordering breakfast at a food truck a few blocks from the Capitol. They carried their egg sandwiches and hash browns over to Chapman’s car and sat on the hood hungrily eating their meal.
Her mouth full of scrambled eggs, Chapman moaned. “God, this is good.”
“It’s the lard, I think,” said Stone, munching on a hash brown. “And the fact that they never wash their frying pan.”
Finished, they climbed in Chapman’s ride and drove off.
“Where to?”
“The park.”
“Hell’s Corner. It’s living up to its name.”
“I wonder how NIC is doing this morning.”
“Based on what happened last night, probably not great.” She skimmed her fingers across the steering wheel. “Look, I know what you did last night. You effectively blocked Weaver from taking action against me for telling you about my other mission. It was neatly done.”
“I’ve been in this business long enough to know how it really operates. I needed him to back off, but he has lots of assets. So I also need his help and focus.”
“How much do you intend on telling him? I mean about what you’ve figured out?”
“A lot. Again, he has resources we don’t. And the primary objective is the same for us both. To prevent whatever is coming.”
“You think it really is in the planning stages?”
“It’s past the planning stage. Now it’s in the execution stage.”
“And the Russians? Pretty formidable foes.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve had a few run-ins with them. They can get pretty nasty.”
Stone said nothing.
“You spent time in Russia. At least that’s what your file says.”