Stone pointed at Weaver. “On your side. Someone like Friedman.”
Weaver started to say something but then just sat there glaring at Stone.
“And Friedman was at the park that night. She could have detonated the bomb using her cell phone after she left. She was on the east side of the park away from the shooters. And she could have been the one to phone Turkekul and lure him out to be shot along the GW Parkway, while she was pretending to work with us to nail him and whoever he was working with. If you recall, it was Friedman who made the initial discoveries about Turkekul, which led to all of you suspecting him of being a mole and a traitor in the first place.”
“And,” said Stone, looking at Weaver again, “she was dismissed by the intelligence service because of her complicity in Turkekul’s death. Which gave her the perfect opportunity to retire from the field with no questions asked. She played all of us perfectly.”
“You have no proof of that,” growled Weaver.
Ashburn spoke up. “Director Weaver, have you tried to get in touch with Marisa Friedman lately?”
All gazes swiveled to the NIC chief.
He said defensively, “I had no reason to try and reach her.”
“I would suggest that you now do have a reason,” said the FBI director firmly.
Weaver slowly pulled out his phone and drilled in a number with his thick index finger. Five, ten, twenty seconds went by. He left a message for her to call him.
He put away his phone. “Okay, she didn’t answer her phone. That proves nothing.”
“But if I’m right,” said Stone, “what do you think she’s doing right now?”
“Running like hell,” said Chapman.
“If you’re right. And it’s a big if,” replied Weaver.
The FBI director said to Ashburn, “We need to find Friedman. Right now.”
“Yes sir.” Ashburn picked up her phone and left the room.
Weaver shook his head and looked at the FBI director. “We cannot simply accept this man’s word for it. Friedman was one of the best field agents I’ve ever worked with.”
“I think she’s actually the best,” said Stone. “The only problem is she’s not working for us anymore.”
“Well, if you are right then she’s probably long gone,” said Weaver. “She would have her exit strategy down to the last detail.”
Stone turned to him. “She would, except for one little thing.”
The man looked contemptuously at him. “Really? And what’s that?”
“The presidents are still alive. Which means she failed. I doubt her employer is too happy about that. But it also gives us a shot at getting to her.”
CHAPTER 88
Several hours later they had a lead on Friedman. They were all still at the WFO when Ashburn came back into the conference room waving a piece of paper.
“Visual ID on Friedman getting on a train bound for Miami from Union Station in Washington. We checked the passenger manifest. She’s traveling under an alias, obviously. No Friedman on the list. Guess that confirms her complicity.”
They all looked at Weaver, who sat sullen-faced in a corner of the room.
Ashburn said, “I take it she never called you back, sir?”
Weaver didn’t even bother to answer.
Ashburn said, “Miami makes sense. She’s presumably working for a Mexican cartel. She gets to Miami and hops on a private plane headed west to Mexico. And her taking the train was a smart move. She probably thought we’d expect her to use wings to get away fast.”
Stone looked at Ashburn. “Visual ID? Did someone actually see her?”
“We have surveillance cameras set up at all the airports and train stations. We programmed her features into the loop and got a hit at Union Station.”
“Did you look at the video?” he asked. “To check to make sure it was her?”
“I did. It wasn’t a clear shot and she was obviously in disguise, but the computer can pick up on factors the human eye can’t. And the match came back. We’re going to hold the train at the next stop, go through it passenger by passenger and take her.”
They all hurried out of the room. Weaver was the last to leave.
He turned to Stone. “I guess I owe you an apology.”
“You don’t owe me anything. It’s complicated. I’ve been in the dark almost as long as everyone else.”
“You saved the president’s life.” He added, “Fair winds and following seas I believe are in your future permanently.”
Stone said nothing. He simply watched the man turn and go.
Chapman was eyeing him closely. “What was all that about?”
“Ancient history.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I keep saying it because it’s true.”
“Okay, you’re not buying the train theory, are you?”
Stone recalled the things Marisa Friedman had said to him. They were all lies of course. But that was how spies survived.
“She said she wanted to go to a desert island,” he said quietly.
Chapman perked up. “Really? When did she say that?”
“When I went to her office, to tell her I was sorry for destroying her career,” he added. “She said she wanted me to go with her. That we were so much alike.”
Chapman put a hand on his shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you two could be more different. She’s a cold-blooded, ruthless bitch just interested in the money. And you, well, you’re obviously not that.” She looked away, perhaps embarrassed at her words.
“A desert island,” he said.
“Right, where she really wanted to go.”
“She’s a spy. She lies for a living.”
Chapman looked at him with renewed interest. “So not a desert island then?”
“Facial recognition software,” said Stone abruptly.
“I’ve heard the stuff is really very accurate.”
“It’s a machine doing it, so it’s only as good as what’s fed into the machine. Which makes me wonder something.”
“What’s that?”
“I wonder what database they used to compare the picture to?”
“You mean someone as obviously smart as Friedman would have thought of that? She would have known they’d use that measure against her?”
“And if she got into the right databases and fed slightly different parameters into them, that would register a hit on someone else that she made sure was at the train station on the way to Miami.”
“And the police stop the train and search it but don’t find Friedman, so that person isn’t even questioned. Home free.”
“Home free,” said Stone.
“So where is Friedman?”
“What’s the opposite of a desert island?”
“The opposite?” Chapman thought for a moment. “A place with lots of people. A big city?”
“Yes. And she didn’t go south. She wouldn’t go to Mexico.”
“Why?”
“She failed. Why would she go running to the likes of Carlos Montoya if she didn’t get the job done? He’d just put a bullet in her head.”
Chapman sat back. “That’s right, he would.”
“So her ‘double’ headed south to lead us on a fruitless chase.”
“Opposite of south is north. But why would she go to a big city at all?”
“Best place to hide. Yes, you have lots of cops and cameras, but she’s too smart to get tripped up by that. She’ll lose herself among millions of people. She’ll wait to see how it falls out. Once she gets a read on that her options grow.”