could, as if he could outrun any of it. His lovely wife and their three wonderful children. A nice house, a job he enjoyed and was very good at. His life was filled with things he had always wanted to have. And with one thing he had never wanted to face. It didn’t seem fair really. Yet how in the world could he stop? It had been beaten into his head ever since he could remember. It had become more a part of him than anything else, even more than his role as husband and father. And that was the only thing in all of this that truly scared him.
Finn hid his hands under the covers and tried to sleep.
CHAPTER 15
“BAGGER GOT TO TONY,” Annabelle said. She hadn’t slept all night and had called her former partner Leo Richter at the crack of dawn. She had no idea what time zone he was even in and didn’t really care.
On the other end of the phone Leo sat up straight and felt his last meal start to come up on him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Tony screwed up. Flashed the cash and Bagger tracked him down. Bagger killed three people and left Tony for dead after turning his brains to mush.”
“Well you can bet the little weasel ratted us out, then. Why can’t somebody just kill Bagger? Is it that hard?”
Annabelle said, “What if Tony found out my last name? You told Freddy, maybe Freddy told Tony. Or the kid might’ve overheard.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Annabelle. We both might be screwed regardless. There are only so many Annabelles and Leos in the con world who operate at that level.”
“If you know where Freddy is you might want to warn him.”
“I’ll do my best. Look, you want me to hook up with you? Try to get us out of this mess?”
“And make it easier for Jerry to bag two for the price of one? Just stay where you are, Leo, and dig as deep as you can.” She clicked off the phone and sat back on her bed. Maybe she should put her millions to work for her right now. Just use it to run like hell. Private plane, private island, plenty of guards. It sounded tempting, but her gut told her this would be like waving a flag in front of a bull. She was still pondering what to do when her phone rang. It was Oliver Stone.
“I hope I didn’t wake you,” he said.
“I’m an early riser,” she lied.
“I have news. We can meet at my cottage later,” he said.
“Why don’t you come my way, Oliver,” she said. “We can have some breakfast. There’s a place around the corner from where I’m staying.” She gave him the address. Thirty minutes later they took a corner table in the back away from the other customers. After they ordered, he told Annabelle what he’d found out.
“I’m not sure how that helps,” she said, spooning sugar into her coffee.
“The best defense is a good offense. The government would love to nail him to a wall. If we can help them do that, I doubt he’d have time for you. Actually, if we can simply distract Bagger with a government investigation, that may be enough to keep you safe.”
Annabelle looked uncertain. “You don’t know Jerry. He has forty million reasons to devote every second of the remainder of his life to killing me.”
Stone nodded knowingly. “I do know Jerry, at least men like him. It’s not just about the money, of course. It’s about loss of face, of respect. He has to seem invincible to everyone. Otherwise he’s not Jerry Bagger.”
“You sized him up right away.”
“As I said, I’ve known many men like Bagger, even worked for some.”
She said cautiously, “So if we were going to go after Jerry how would we do it?”
“We have to find where he’s vulnerable. There’s the point of least resistance, of course. He killed three people in Portugal and put a fourth in a coma. If we can pin that on him he goes away forever.”
“I know he did it, but I have no proof. And if I go to the cops, I’ll have to explain everything, and then I don’t think they’ll be waiting to hand me a medal.”
“Or you could give your share of the money back to Bagger and hope that’s enough.”
“I earned that money, every last cent of it. And like you said, it’s not about the money. He’d still want to kill me.”
“But if we can tie Bagger to these crimes without you having to give testimony or being involved at all?”
“Well, that would just solve all my problems, wouldn’t it? Only I don’t quite see how that can work.”
“That’s for us to figure out.” Stone was about to say something else when his cell phone rang. It was Alex Ford and his voice was strained.
“Oliver, did you see Carter Gray last night?”
“Yes, I did.”
“What time did you get there and what time did you leave?”
Stone told him. “I’m sure the driver can verify that. What’s this all about?”
“I can’t believe you haven’t heard.”
“Heard what?”
“Somebody blew up Carter Gray’s house last night, with him in it. I know this is going to be awkward, but I think the FBI will want to talk to you about your meeting with Gray.”
Stone clicked off. The FBI will want to talk to me. About Gray.
Annabelle said sharply, “Trouble?”
“A little,” he said slowly as his thoughts raced ahead. “Maybe more than a little, actually.”
She tapped her coffee cup against his. “Welcome to the club.”
CHAPTER 16
OLIVER STONE STARED at the wall opposite him while the two thirty-something men in shirtsleeves with their guns and badges hanging on their black belts hovered around like vultures over roadkill. His voluntary appearance at the FBI’s Washington Field Office had not earned him any brownie points, even with Alex Ford of the Secret Service accompanying him to the interview. Alex had told the agents in charge of Carter Gray’s homicide investigation about Stone’s recent heroics in foiling an espionage ring. However, the agents had brushed that off.
One of them said to Alex, “I deal with murder and I got a big one hanging around my neck and a lot of pressure from upstairs to get results.” He plopped down in front of Stone at the small table.
“Now let’s try the name thing one more time. What’s yours?”
“Oliver Stone, like I told you the last four times you asked.”
“Let me see some ID.”
“And as I told you four times before, I don’t have any.”
The other agent said incredulously, “How does anybody in the twenty-first century not have ID?”
Stone looked at him, bemused. “I know who I am. And I don’t really care if no one else does.”
“So you came all the way down here to tell us what—nothing other than the fact that you’re apparently a famous film director who dresses like a bum?”
“Actually, I came down here to tell you that I visited Carter Gray at his home last night at his request. I arrived around nine and left about forty-five minutes later. He sent his driver for me. The man can certainly vouch for the fact that when I left, the house was still standing and the man inside that house was still alive.”
Alex interjected, “Have you talked to the driver?”
The two agents glanced at each other. One said to Stone, “What’d you two talk about?”
“It was private. I’m certain it had nothing to do with what happened to Mr. Gray.” Stone of course had every reason to believe that what Gray had told him about the other three men dying was very much tied to Gray’s death.
“I sense uncooperative behavior,” the same agent said.
His partner added, “And I sense an obstruction charge coming. You like to sit in a jail cell, Mr. Stone, while we run down who you really are?”
Stone said calmly, “If you believe you have enough to charge me then charge me. If you don’t I’m late for another appointment.”
“You’re a busy man are you, Mr. Stone?” one of the agents remarked sarcastically.
“I try to stay productive. But I’ll make a deal with you.”
�
��We don’t do deals.”
“I’ll go with you to the crime scene. If I see anything that strikes me funny, I’ll let you know.”
“Strikes you funny? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” the first agent said.
“Just what it sounds like.”
“No way in hell are we taking you to the crime scene.”
“If you killed the guy you might be looking to screw up some evidence,” the other agent said.
Stone sighed. “Call the director of the FBI, please.”
“Excuse me?” one agent snapped, looking incredulously at him.
“Call the head of the FBI. He sent me a commendation letter recently. By coincidence I brought a copy of it with me. I called his office before coming down here. I told him if I had any trouble, I’d give him a call.”
Stone handed the letter across to the agent. With his partner looking over his shoulder they read it word for word, then glanced at Alex, who merely shrugged.
Stone said, “Do you call or do we choose not to bother the director and just go to the crime scene? I don’t have all day.”
“No reason to bother the director,” one of the agents said finally.
Stone rose. “Delighted to hear it.”
CHAPTER 17
STONE WALKED NEAR the wreckage of Carter Gray’s house with one of the FBI agents and Alex Ford.
“Gas explosion?” Alex asked the agent.
“That’s what it looks like, although I’m not sure how it was possible. The place wasn’t that old. And it had all the latest safety features.”
Stone was staring at what was left of the house he’d been sitting in only last night. “Where was his body found?”
“Sorry, can’t say. The remains of a body were found in the bedroom.”
“Positive ID?”
“Suffice it to say that we consider this a homicide investigation regarding the owner of the property.”
“Did you find the driver to confirm Oliver’s story?”
The agent shook his head. “The man’s gone missing. He was with the CIA. Not sure what the story was there. Of course, that means we just have your word for it that he drove you home,” he added, eyeballing Stone.
“If I were going to blow up the man I wouldn’t have told anyone I was meeting with him, especially a United States Secret Service agent. And I certainly wouldn’t have done the deed on the very night I did meet with him.”
“The fact that the house blew up right after he met with you is the reason you’re a suspect,” the agent countered.
“And it’s also the reason I’m out here,” Stone said. “Because the faster you find the real killer, the sooner I’m off that list.”
“Anyone else around?” Alex asked.
The agent nodded, his gaze still on Stone. “A guard. He came out of the guesthouse over there and got hit by some debris and was actually on fire. He says he remembers somebody knocking him down and putting out the flames. He passed out and the next thing he remembers is being put in the back of an ambulance. He’s in the burn unit at a hospital in Annapolis. He’ll be okay.”
Alex said, “So there was somebody else out here last night.”
The agent was still staring at Stone, who raised his hands and said, “You can check me for burns, if you’d like.”
“It wasn’t the other guy, the driver?” Alex said quickly while giving Stone a “knock it off” look.
“The guard was in so much pain he could only see it was a guy,” the agent admitted. “But if it was the driver why should he have run off?”
“He would if he had something to do with the explosion,” Stone noted. “And the fact that he’s gone missing now? Not to tell you how to run your investigation, but it is something to think about.”
“We have thought about it,” the agent said gruffly.
“Find anything useful in the house?” Stone asked.
“If we did, you would not be on the list of people we would inform.”
Stone smiled, turned away and saw it. He said slowly, “Well, since I’m not in the loop you won’t mind if I just take a walk along the cliffs. Be sure to keep me in your line of sight in case I make a run for it.”
As he walked away the agent said to Alex, “Okay, fed to fed, who the hell is that guy?”
“Someone I’d trust my life with. Someone I have trusted my life with.”
“Care to share?”
“No, it’s national security stuff and you’d never believe me anyway.”
The agent stared at the rumpled Stone. “National security! The guy looks borderline homeless.”
“Actually, he works in a cemetery,” Alex said helpfully.
The agent just shook his head and then followed Stone, who was over near the cliffs.
What had caught Stone’s eye was the gas regulator post. As he headed toward it the same agent called out, “We’ve checked that out already. Obvious point.”
“And?”
“And it was working fine and no forced entry.”
“There wouldn’t be any sign of forced entry if the person knew what he was doing. But the gas pressure can be manipulated from here?”
“Presumably. But we checked the box and the pressure hadn’t been changed.”
Stone recalled the long window of Gray’s house looking out onto the cliffs. There was something gnawing at his memory. He turned back to the agent.
“Well, if you can change the pressure, you can change it back.”
“Okay, anything else strike you funny?” the man asked.
“Let’s say you greatly increase the gas pressure going into the house, which blows out the safety overrides. In seconds the place is filled with gas.”
“But you need something to ignite that gas.”
“Turning on a light would create enough of a spark to do it.”
“True. We’ve got some bomb-sniffing dogs coming out. Unless they turn up some dynamite or C4, we might have to look at the gas angle more closely.”
Stone suddenly remembered what he needed to. He left the agent and rejoined Alex.
“Anything occur to you?” Alex asked.
“You fill the house with gas by manipulating the pressure. A light spark will ignite the gas, but if Gray is asleep you can’t count on that. And you don’t want him to smell the gas and escape. So you have a man standing about two hundred yards from the back of the house, near the cliffs over there. He fires an incendiary bullet through the window. The bullet passes through the glass, igniting on impact and triggering the gas explosion. If they find a colored bit of metal in there it may be from the bullet’s nose. Incendiary rounds are typically colored so people don’t mix them up.”
Alex nodded thoughtfully. “But how would he get away? The front was blocked. Unless the guard who got burned passed out and didn’t see the guy get by him.”
Stone and Alex walked back over to the agent. “Any evidence of the person leaving through the woods over there?” Stone asked the FBI man.
The agent shook his head. “We’ve been all over it. No trace, and there would have been. And there’s no easy way to get back to the main road from there.”
“But the person could have left directly by the main road, then?”
“Don’t think so. I forgot to mention that the guard who got burned said the guy who helped him ran back this way, not toward the road.”
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