Paddy reached his hand out to touch her face but she jerked back.
“I had no right to do that,” he said. “But I was teaching you a lesson I never wanted you to forget. You blew that claim at the casino. Sure, you were young, and the young make mistakes. But I’ll wager you never made that mistake again, did you?”
“No.”
“I never gave a shit about any of the crews I worked with. Hell, I never bothered giving any of ’em a scar. If they made a mistake I let ’em know it, sure. But I didn’t give a damn if they screwed up down the road with somebody else and got their knees broken for the trouble.”
“So, my scar was what, tough love?”
“Your mum never wanted you to get into the con. But we were shorthanded that summer and it was my idea to use you. You caught on fast, faster than I did at your age. Ten years later you were better than I ever was. Moved on to the long cons while I was still doing my three-card monte on street corners. For chump change.”
“That was your choice.”
“No, not really. Plain fact was I wasn’t good enough to do the long. They say you’re either born to it or not. I wasn’t.”
“Okay, where does that leave things? You can’t do the long and the long is what it’ll take to get to Jerry.”
“I can’t do it without you, Annabelle. But if you won’t help me, I’m going to try anyway.”
“If you do, he’ll kill you.”
“I’m dead anyway. And I doubt even Jerry could come up with a more painful way to die than what I’ve got ahead of me.”
“You are really complicating my life.”
“Will you help me?”
Annabelle didn’t answer him.
“Look, can’t you talk to your friend again? Maybe he’ll reconsider.”
Annabelle was about to say no, but hesitated. What she was thinking was she might go back to Stone’s cottage. If he was there she could make another pitch for help. But if he wasn’t there, which she suspected was the case, Annabelle would just take all of the “files” that Stone had compiled on her and her problems with Jerry. She didn’t want any of that just lying around for someone, cops or bad guys, to find.
“I’ll give it another shot.”
As she walked down to her car she realized she couldn’t just leave her father to deal with Jerry alone. Which meant they would both end up dying.
Some choice.
CHAPTER 57
AFTER ANNABELLE AND PADDY HAD LEFT, Stone put Caleb in a taxi with some old clothes of his and gave the driver the address of a hotel nearby.
“Oliver, why can’t I stay here?” Caleb said, obviously frightened.
“That would not be smart. I’ll call you later.”
It was only when the cab had driven away and he was finally alone that Stone started thinking about what he’d done to Annabelle.
“I abandoned her,” he said. “After I promised to help. After I told her to stay.” Yet what could he do? And anyway, she’d probably be on a flight within a few hours, on her way to that South Pacific island. She’d be safe there.
But what if she didn’t run? What if she stubbornly decided to go after Bagger anyway? With no support? She’d said she needed the cavalry. Could he still deliver that to her?
The next instant the phone rang. It was Reuben. He said, “Nothing from my contacts at DIA, Oliver. They didn’t know about the cemetery thing. But Milton did find something on the Net. Here, I’ll put him on.”
Milton’s voice came over the phone. “It wasn’t much, Oliver, but there was breaking news about a grave being dug up at Arlington. No one from the government would comment.”
“Did it mention the name on the grave marker?”
“Someone named John Carr,” Milton said. “Is that a problem?”
Stone didn’t bother to answer. He clicked off.
After all these years John Carr had suddenly come back to life. Ironically, Stone had never felt more dead than he did right now.
Why now? What had happened? The truth struck him as he slowly walked back through the cemetery gates and sat down on his front porch.
He’d been set up.
If John Carr was no longer dead, then the person killing old members of Triple Six would now add him back onto his list of targets.
I’m bait, Stone said to himself. They’re going to use me to flush the killer. And if he murders me before they catch him, who cares. And even if I do manage to survive? It won’t be for very long. All John Carr would be now was an embarrassment to the government. His own country would have many reasons to want him dead and not a single one that Stone could think of to keep him alive. It was absolutely brilliant in its simplicity. His death warrant had been signed.
And there was only one man who would’ve been capable of thinking it all up, Stone knew.
Carter Gray! He is alive.
He packed a small bag, locked up the cottage and fled through the woods behind the cemetery.
Harry Finn was carefully balancing a butter knife on a table where he was sitting so the knife was standing up on edge. It was harder than it looked, yet Finn could accomplish it every time and within a few seconds. He did this whenever he was unsure of something. He was seeking balance. If he could do it with the knife, he could do it with his life. At least that was his thinking. It was never that easy in reality.
“Harry?”
He looked up into the face of one of his team members. They had been discussing the Capitol building project over lunch at their office.
“Did you get a chance to review the ventilation plans?” the woman asked.
He nodded. They’d gotten the documentation through an ingenious tactical combination that involved breaking into the van of the architect hired to work on the Capitol Visitor Center. From that they copied necessary information and then used that to phone freak their way to many details of the new construction.
“The plans indicated that it will hook into the Capitol building, but I need to confirm that. We’re going tonight, in fact, to do it. And it should be accessible from the delivery tunnel, but I’m going to verify that too.” He looked at the man sitting next to him, who was going over a set of drawings and specs. “How about the transport?”
“All done.” The man laid out the details to Finn.
Finn glanced down at the ID badge he’d earlier stolen from the SUV. This one badge had gotten him a lot of mileage. With the embedded encryption he could simply change out the surface information-photo, name, etcetera-and the badge would get him into myriad places, none of which he should have access to. He’d heard the government was beginning to discover this flaw in their security system, but Congress moved with glacial speed when it came to things like that. Finn figured they’d have the problem worked out by the time he was drawing Social Security. And even that might be optimistic.
The meeting adjourned and he went to his office and worked for the rest of the day. Later, he changed into a Capitol police uniform, doctored his badge and headed to D.C. that night, where he met up with a buddy, similarly dressed. There were sixteen hundred officers on the Capitol police force to guard roughly one square mile of land. It was a ratio any other city would have killed for. Congress liked to feel safe, and it did control the purse strings.
And yet all that money had not made the folks much safer, thought Finn as he and his colleague strolled around the grounds of the Capitol that night. In fact, he was going to prove the truth of that statement tonight.
They made their way to the construction site of the visitor center and went in, pretending to make rounds. Work here went on 24/7, so he and his buddy jawed with some of the construction workers and then moved along. They passed a fellow officer, whom they exchanged both pleasantries and gripes with. Finn informed the cop that he’d just transferred over from the U.S. Park Police, where he’d been assigned to the San Francisco area.