Divine Justice by David Baldacci
“I’m sure it would have. But there you are.”
“So I’m competing with the cops on this one too? What if they get there first?”
“We’ve taken certain actions that will preclude that from happening.”
“And if some detective gets lucky?”
“That’s highly doubtful because they know nothing of John Carr or his ties to Gray and Simpson. So you have a tremendous advantage there. But if the police get to him first, we will make sure that he will disappear from their custody. National security trumps all, Knox.”
“Of course. Can I inquire as to what the chain of command is on this, sir?”
“You report to me, no one else,” he said sharply.
“No, I mean who do you report to, General?”
Hayes finished off his drink and carefully put the glass down on an antique side table. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Good luck. Regular reports.”
“Absolutely,” Knox said, with more edge to his voice than he would have liked. One could push Macklin Hayes only so far, but Knox was getting sorely tempted to push as hard as possible. Like off a cliff.
“One more thing. John Carr is probably the best assassin this country has ever produced. The fact that he was able to single-handedly kill a dozen of our best paramilitary field agents thirty years after he left Triple Six speaks volumes. God, he must have been something else indeed in his prime. What an honor to have commanded such a killing machine. Gray was lucky in that regard. The meteoric rise of his career was tied, in no small way, to Carr’s ability to hit the bull’s-eye time after time.”
“And you’re telling me this why?”
“Just want you to understand the playing field. We need him alive, Knox. We need to know what he has before the sword falls. Never forget that. There may need to be sacrifices, of course.”
As Hayes left the room Knox did indeed understand the playing field. They clearly needed Carr alive.
Sacrifices? But they didn’t necessarily need Joe Knox still breathing when the dust settled, did they?
Knox left the brownstone, climbed back in his Rover, and drove off in pursuit of apparently the greatest assassin his country had ever produced, while a cagey former general who had no problem allowing his foot soldiers to die to achieve his goals was crowding his rear flank.
Whoopie.
CHAPTER 21
VERY EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, Knox started with the caretaker’s cottage at Mt. Zion Cemetery. He went over every square inch of it, pulling up loose floorboards, emptying every drawer, checking inside the fireplace, and poring over the books Stone kept there, many in different languages.
“If the guy can speak all these languages, he might have already left the country,” Knox told himself. Other than that, the cottage was a bust. The guy had obviously cleaned it out before fleeing. He next set about searching the cemetery. Here he was a bit more fortunate, though it ultimately turned out to be nothing. His sharp eye discerned that one tombstone had been recently moved. He yanked it over and found the small compartment carved in the earth. Whatever had been there, though, was now gone.
The “dirt” Macklin Hayes had hinted at?
Two hours later found him standing in the rear grounds of Carter Gray’s former home. Knox had decided not to go by Simpson’s murder scene. The vacant construction site had not given up any clues on the first go-round and he’d wisely decided that it was probably not going to give up any simply because he went back.
He stared out at the bay. Stone had told the FBI agents that the person who’d blown up Gray’s house might have escaped by jumping off the cliff. He walked to the edge and peered down. Hell of a long dive, but probably easy for someone like Oliver Stone/John Carr.
Okay, he tosses his rifle into the water and jumps. Then where did he go?
He did not for a second believe that Stone had committed suicide. One did not plan hits so meticulously to merely end it all with a plunge off a cliff. He had lived. Knox was sure of that.
Carrying a knapsack over his shoulder, Knox walked along the cliff’s edge, following on land what might have been Stone’s journey in the water. He passed through woods, open fields, and then more woods, all the while keeping his eye on the shore below. Finally, he stopped. There was a bit of a beach down there. Stone had shot Gray before seven a.m. Knox had checked the tide charts. That time of morning would largely mirror the tide he was looking at right now. He eyed the boulders, then spotted the cleft in the rock, the trail coming up. He followed it to where it reached the top of the cliff. There was a path there. He took it. A half hour later he came to the series of shacks.
“Can I help you?”
Knox looked over at the short, squat man in the Green Bay Packers knit cap and greasy coat who was staring at him from beside an ancient tractor with one wheel off.
Knox approached. “I was over at Carter Gray’s house.” He held up his creds. “I’m Agent Knox.”
“Good for you. They call me Leroy because that’s my name. Gray, huh? The important fellow what got himself shot?”
“That’s right. I take it someone’s been by to see you.”
“Hell, yeah. But like I told them, I don’t know nuthin’ ’bout nuthin’.”
“You live here by yourself?”
“That’s right, ever since my Lottie went to meet her Lord four years ago.”
“Sorry to hear that. Nobody to help you around here? What is it that you do, by the way?”
“Anything I can to make a little money. Had me a helper but he went on.”
“When was that?”
“Same day that man got shot.”
Knox looked anxious but Leroy held up his hand. “Don’t get yourself excited. He was here when them FBI folks come by. You can ask them. He’s old, bum leg, bad eyes and feller couldn’t even talk, just grunted.”
“Tall, short? Fat, thin?”
“Skinny, though with the bad leg it was hard to tell how tall he was. Lot taller’n me, that’s for sure. Big beard and thick glasses.”
“Why’d he leave?”
“Who the hell knows? Been with me about four months. Then he just went moving on. It’s not like I had him locked into no million-dollar long-term contract.” Leroy laughed and shot a glob of spit at the ground.
Knox looked around. “Did he stay in one of those buildings?”
Leroy nodded and pointed at the one closest to the path.
“Mind if I take a look through it?”
“What agency you with again?”
“Federal.”
“I know that. But which one?”
Knox held up his “public” creds close to the man’s face. “That one.”
Leroy took a step back. “Go on ahead then.”
Knox inwardly smiled. That was at least one perk you got doing what he did. There weren’t many others.
The search of the shack turned up only one significant fact. There wasn’t a single fingerprint in the place and Knox had brought equipment with him that would show if there were. That alone told Knox that he was probably on the right track. Most people, including gimp-legged, nearly blind mutes, were not known to be so meticulous about wiping away such identifiers.
He left the shack and found Leroy puttering around.
Knox said, “I’m going to have an artist come up here and he’s going to do a composite drawing based on your description of the guy.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will.”
CHAPTER 22
THE DINNER WAS DELICIOUS, mostly fried and filling. Abby had cooked it herself and Stone had helped her serve it. It was only the two of them. He’d taken a shower in an upstairs bathroom decorated like something out of a design magazine. The coal company must’ve really paid through the nose.
“So you’re a fan of Shakespeare?” Stone said.
“I read his plays in high school. I could never relate to them before.”
“And now you can?”
“Mayb
Danny came in halfway through the meal, took one look at Stone and his mother in the dining room with their linen napkins and fancy plates, and turned back around without a word. Then a door slammed. Loudly.
Stone glanced after him and then turned back to Abby. “I’m sure he keeps you busy.”
“That’s one way of putting it. You have children?”
“I did. She’s not alive anymore.”
“Sorry to hear that. Danny’s used up about seven of his nine lives and I feel like he took mine right along with his.”
“Were you against him going away? You said you cried a lot.”
“What mother wouldn’t with her only child saying good-bye?”
“Then you’re glad he’s back?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. Besides, it’s more likely than not that he’ll be gone again before too many more suns come up. Won’t break my heart again, at least I keep telling myself that.”
“Has he left before?”
“Talked about it a lot, but never pulled the trigger. I guess I’d made up my mind it always would be talk. Then he threw me a curve.” Her voice shook a little as she said this last part.
“Any particular reason he decided to do it this time?”
“It’s hard to tell why Danny does anything. Bullheaded, just like his father.”
“Danny said he died in the mines.”
Abby took her time putting the last forkful of pie into her mouth. “He did. You said you lost a child. How about your wife?”
“Died too. Long time ago.”
“What’ve you been doing with yourself since?”
“This and that. Never stayed in one place too long.”
“Did you get out of the army right after Nam?”
“I hung around for a while. Nothing too exciting.”
“No pension from Uncle Sam?”
“Didn’t stay long enough.”
Their conversation trailed off and a while later Stone took his leave, resisting her invitation to drive him back to town. There was sorrow in that house, despite the luxury and designer touches, for one simple reason: the source of the wealth was death.
“I guess you’ll be heading on soon,” she said as she stood by the front door.
“I’m a lot older than Danny and I still haven’t made up my mind what to do with the rest of my life. So I think I better get to it.”
“Thanks for helping my son.”
“He seems like a good young man, Abby. Just needs a little direction.”
“It would’ve been real good if the direction had taken him out of here and kept him there.”
She closed the door, leaving Stone standing there puzzled. Telling himself again that this was not his business, he walked out to the road and made his way back to town. The sky was lit with stars, which was the only light there was. As he drew closer to town, he heard something. At first it seemed to be the moan of an animal and it occurred to him that in this part of the country it would not be unheard of to run into a black bear or maybe even a mountain lion. As he continued to walk along the moan became more recognizable.
Stone picked up his pace. The church and the graveyard were just ahead.
He cut across the road, entered the churchyard, made a beeline for the graveyard, and then stopped when he saw it. Or rather him.
The sobs racking him, Danny was lying sprawled on top of the fresh grave of Debby Randolph.
CHAPTER 23
THE TALL MAN SLIPPED inside the building, hung a left, grabbed an elevator, rode it down, entered the tunnel, skimmed along underneath the streets of Washington, D.C., arrived at another building and turned down a long hall. When he passed one door, it opened and a big hand grabbed him and yanked him inside, slamming the door behind him.
Reuben Rhodes let Alex Ford go. The agent smoothed down his jacket collar and turned to scowl at the others there arranged on busted-up government-issued furniture and packing crates.
“You said the second door on the left,” Alex snapped.
“Brother Caleb got it wrong,” Reuben said. “He meant the first door on the right and we didn’t want to call you on your cell in case they put a trace on it.”
“They need a court order for that,” Annabelle said.
“Like hell they do,” Reuben shot back.
Alex looked at Annabelle. “He’s actually right about that. As a federal agent my life and cell phone are not my own.”
“Sorry about the mix-up, Alex,” Caleb said shamefacedly. “I was a little nervous. I’m not really sure why, though.” He glared furiously at Reuben. “Oh, now I remember. It was when Reuben called and screamed that I had to find a place for us to meet ASAP or we were all going to die and it would be my fault!”
Reuben shrugged. “I didn’t say die. I said we were all going to go to prison for the rest of our lives. And I just said it would be mostly your fault.”
“How do you figure that?” asked Annabelle.
“This Joe Knox character already met with Caleb.”
“So? How do you know I told him anything?”
“Caleb, you’d spill your guts if a Girl Scout got the drop on you.”
Annabelle stood. “Okay, we don’t have much time. It seems Knox has grilled me, Alex and Caleb.”
“And I know he went to the loading dock, but luckily I took a few days off,” Reuben added.
“Reuben, I understand that Oliver called you,” said Alex. “Did he tell you where he was?”
“He wouldn’t tell me where he was calling from.” Reuben went on to tell them about his conversation with Stone. “And he did want me to tell you that he appreciated your burning the letter.”
Alex nodded slowly but said nothing.
Caleb said, “Is there any way to trace the call he made to Reuben?”
Reuben shook his head. “I sort of have an unusual cell phone arrangement. A little convoluted.”
“You mean you steal other people’s minutes,” declared Caleb.
“Anyway, I had a buddy I trust try and do it for me. He’s a real pro with that stuff and it went nowhere.”
“Well, let’s compare notes on what Knox said and see where we stand,” Annabelle suggested.
Alex went first, followed by Annabelle and then Caleb. When they’d finished, Reuben said, “Caleb, I apologize. It looks like you stood your ground pretty well.”
“Apology accepted,” snapped the federal librarian.
Alex said, “Okay, Knox knows Oliver is John Carr. He knows what he did at CIA. He knows that he killed Simpson and Gray. And he wants him badly.”
“And he thinks we can lead him right to Oliver,” Caleb replied. “But we can’t. Thank God.”
“Don’t be thanking God yet, Caleb. He knows where we are and our connection to Oliver. They’ll use that.”
“How?”
Annabelle answered. “Leverage. To reel Oliver in.”
Caleb exclaimed, “What do you mean? Use us as bait? That’s preposterous. We are United States citizens. Knox is a public servant.”