“It’s looking an awful lot like a battlefield to me.”
“So you’re saying Chapman told you?”
“I’m saying partners don’t keep secrets. If you have a problem with that, then the problem is with me, not her.”
“She could get in a lot of trouble for this.”
“But she won’t.”
“How the hell do you know that?”
“Hit the speakerphone button twice, Weaver.”
“What?”
“Just do it.”
Weaver did so and the speakerphone function was disabled. Weaver held the phone up to his ear. “What the hell are you playing at?”
“Nanobots.”
Weaver noticeably stiffened.
“And since you never got back to me with the list of events at Lafayette Park, I had someone do it for me. There’s a bunch of stuff on there that could have been the target for the bomb, but something tells me the answer isn’t anywhere on that list.”
“Where, then?”
“You know about the Pennsylvania adventure my friends had? And the executions of the Latinos?”
“Of course. I am the director of NIC.”
“Lot of trouble for a cover-up. Coupled with the fact that those shots into the park were fired from a government office building behind the Hay-Adams that one needed a pretty high security clearance to get into spells ‘traitor’ with a capital T.”
“Nothing new there. We’re looking into that angle.”
“Your ‘looking’ will show that the person who accessed the building used a stolen or cloned security card while the real card owner was halfway around the world.”
Weaver pursed his lips. “Cloned. Actual holder was in Tokyo.”
“And this person was with the State Department?”
“Jesus, Stone, what are you, a freaking mind reader?”
“No. The folks at State have always been lax about security. Thirty years ago half my missions were because they’d screwed up somehow. And I can see they haven’t changed.”
“Any thoughts on who the inside person might be?”
“Not yet. I need to keep digging. But, Weaver, if I have to spend all my time looking over my shoulder for your boys, that will be very distracting.”
“I can see why your superiors had such a hell of a time with you in the army. You don’t play well with others.”
“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.”