The Collectors cc-2

by David Baldacci

  “He’s right, Caleb,” Annabelle said.

  “I’m going too,” Reuben added. “I’m tired of being left out of all the fun.”

  Milton piped in, “What about us?”

  “I can’t walk in with an army of people,” Caleb wailed.

  Annabelle said, “We can be backup, Milton. Every plan needs to allow for contingencies.”

  Stone looked at her strangely. “Fine, you can be our backup. We’ll go tonight.”

  “Tonight!” Caleb exclaimed. “I’ll need at least a week to work up the nerve. I’m a wimp. I started out as a librarian at an elementary school, but I couldn’t take the pressure.”

  “You can do it, Caleb,” Milton advised. “I felt the same way today, but it’s not that hard to fool people. If I can do it to some architects, you can do it at the place where you work. What could they possibly ask you that you wouldn’t have an answer for?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, how about where’s my brain for agreeing to do this in the first place?” Caleb shot back. “And besides, the building will be closing by the time we get there.”

  “Can you still get us in with your library badge?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not,” he said evasively.

  “Caleb,” Stone said calmly. “We have to do this.”

  Caleb sighed. “I know. I know.” He added sharply, “At least allow me the satisfaction of pretending I’m putting up a fight.”

  Annabelle put a hand on his shoulder and smiled. “Caleb, you remind me of somebody I know. His name’s Leo. He likes to bitch and moan and act like a weenie, but in the end he always comes through.”

  “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment,” Caleb said stiffly.

  Stone cleared his throat and opened one of the journals he’d brought with him. “I think I’ve discovered at least partly what it is we’re up against.”

  They all turned their attention to him. Before he started speaking, he switched on his portable radio and classical music filtered into the room. “Just in case the cottage is being bugged,” he explained. He cleared his throat again and told them about his trip to Bradley’s destroyed house. “They killed the man and blew up his house. At first I thought it was to keep up the terrorist group subterfuge. Now I think there could be another reason: namely, that in spite of his reputation as an honest man, Bob Bradley was corrupt. And the evidence of that corruption disappeared in the explosion.”

  “That’s not possible,” Caleb said. “His predecessor was a crook, not Bradley. They elevated Bradley to the top spot to clean things up.”

  Stone shook his head. “In my experience in Washington one does not capture the Speaker’s chair on an agenda of anticorruption. One gets there by building up powerful support and cultivating alliances over the years. Still, Bradley’s ascension was out of the ordinary. If the majority leader hadn’t been indicted along with the former Speaker, the job would’ve gone to him. And after him the party whip. But the leadership was so tainted that Bradley was brought in like the proverbial out-of-town sheriff to clean up the town. But I’m not talking about that sort of corruption.

  “Bradley’s role as Speaker obscures the other significant title he held: that of chairman of the House Intelligence Committee. In that role Bradley would have been briefed on virtually every covert operation going on in every American intelligence agency, including the CIA, NSA and the Pentagon. He and his staff would have been privy to secrets and classified documents worth a great deal to our enemies.” Stone leafed through his journal. “Over the last several years there have been numerous accounts of espionage against American intelligence agencies, some of which have resulted in the deaths of undercover agents, four in the most recent instance that the press identified as State Department liaisons. And according to Reuben’s sources, it’s even worse than the media have reported.”

  “So you’re saying Bradley was a spy?” Milton asked.

  “I’m saying it’s a possibility.”

  Caleb said, “But if Bradley was working with America’s enemies, why would they kill him?”

  “There are two possibilities,” Stone replied. “First, he might have asked for more money in return for his acts of treason, and they decided to kill him instead. Or—”

  Annabelle said, “Or we killed him.”

  Stone glanced at her and nodded slightly. The others looked stunned.

  Caleb exclaimed, “We? As in our government!”

  “Why kill him? Why not bring him to justice?” Milton added.

  “Because doing that entails it all coming out,” Stone said.

  “And maybe the CIA and Pentagon don’t want people to know they were beaten by the other side,” Reuben added.

  “And the CIA is not known for its compassion,” Stone added dryly. “Even the Speaker of the House may not be immune from their target sheet.”

  “But if it is our own government behind this, who were the people who kidnapped and tortured you, Oliver?” Milton asked.

  Annabelle shot him a glance. “You were tortured?”

  “I was interrogated thoroughly by some very experienced people,” Stone replied.

  “Thoroughly interrogated? They tried to drown you,” Caleb snapped. “By . . . water-dunking you.”

  Reuben slapped his leg in fury. “Water-dunking! For God sakes, Caleb, that’s what they do to clowns at the fair. What they did to Oliver was water-boarding, and it sure as hell ain’t the same thing.”

  Stone said, “To address your question, Milton, I don’t know how my abductors play into this yet. It doesn’t make sense that if our government killed Bradley, they would also be interested in what we’ve found out. They’d already know.”

  “It would make sense if the agency that killed Bradley did the deed on its own, and another agency is trying to play catch-up,” Annabelle offered. “We may have one agency pitted against another.”

  Stone looked at her with even more respect. “That’s an interesting theory. How it plays out for us is hard to say right now.”

  “Are you still thinking this is tied to Jonathan’s death?” Annabelle asked.

  “The common denominator all along has been Cornelius Behan,” Stone said. “His appearance at the library and his interest in the fire suppressant system only makes our suspicions seem more well founded. That’s the tie to Jonathan. Cornelius Behan. And to get to the bottom of that, we have to find out how Jonathan died.”

  “So we have to burglarize the Library of Congress,” Caleb groaned.

  Stone put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, Caleb, it’s not the first government building I’ve broken into.”

  CHAPTER 36

  CALEB MANAGED TO GET STONE and Reuben through security on the strength of his credentials and the lie that they were important visitors looking at an exhibit after hours, although Caleb did so reluctantly and thus not very smoothly.

  As they took the elevator down to the basement, Caleb complained, “Well, I don’t feel all that different for having committed a felony!”

  “Oh, the felony’s coming up, Caleb,” Stone said, showing his friend the ring of special keys. “What you did back there was probably no more than a misdemeanor.” Caleb merely glared at him.

  They located the room, which had large double doors. Stone quickly found the key on his ring that would fit the lock. A moment later they were inside the spacious room. The fire suppression equipment was against one wall.

  “Now I see the reason for the large doors,” Stone said.

  The cylinders were huge, each probably weighing nearly a ton, and would not have fit through a regular-size door. Several of them were connected to pipes that ran to the ceiling and beyond.

  The labels on the cylinders all read “Halon 1301.” “Fire Control, Inc.,” Stone said, reading the name of the company that had installed the equipment, which was also printed on the cylinders. He next studied the piping configuration. “There’s a manual switch here to turn on the gas. And the
pipes must run to a number of rooms in addition to the book vaults. But it’s not clear which cylinder would be running to your space, Caleb.”

  Reuben looked over Stone’s shoulders. “And you can’t really tell if they’ve been discharged or not.”

  Stone moved to the HVAC ductwork and pulled out the drawing Milton had done. He glanced at a section of ductwork that rose straight to the ceiling.

  “Why are you so interested in the HVAC, Oliver?” Reuben asked.

  “If some sort of gas was used to kill Jonathan, then the killer would have to know that he’d be at an exact spot before knowing when to turn on the gas line from down here.”

  Caleb said, “That’s right, I hadn’t thought about that. Since there was no fire to trigger the gas, it had to have been turned on manually. But to do that, you’d have to be in this room. So how could the killer know that Jonathan would even be in that part of the vault?”

  “I think he knew Jonathan’s daily pattern. He was always the first one in the vault, and he regularly visited certain areas while he was inside, including the place where he died.”

  Reuben shook his head. “Okay, but from what Caleb told us he found DeHaven’s body about twenty feet from one of the nozzles, meaning he was in the perfect place to be killed by the gas. But how would the person have known that all the way down here?”

  Stone looked at Milton’s drawing and then pointed to the HVAC. “This trunk line feeds directly into the book vault, running through all levels of it.”

  “So?”

  Stone was looking around the HVAC and then stopped. On the side not visible from the main area, Stone pointed at something. Reuben and Caleb looked at the spot.

  “Why would you have an access panel cut into the ductwork?” Reuben wanted to know.

  Stone opened the small panel and looked inside. “Caleb, remember the vent in the ductwork near where Jonathan’s body was found. The grille was bent?”

  “Yes, I remember you pointing that out. What about it?”

  “If someone placed a camera attached to a long cable inside the ductwork in the book vault and bent the grille open, the camera would have a clean shot of the vault area where Jonathan was that morning. And if someone was down here with a receiver attached by that cable to the camera, I believe he could see everything going on up there, including Jonathan’s movements.”

  “Damn,” Reuben said. “And they used the ductwork—”

  “Because that was the only way to run the cable. A wireless signal might not go through all the concrete and other obstructions,” Stone said. “I think if we examine the ductwork inside the vault behind that bent grille, we’ll note some evidence of how the camera was hung. The person waits down here, sees Jonathan on the camera and hits the manual switch, having disconnected the warning horn beforehand, and in ten seconds the gas is fully dispersed and Jonathan dies.”

  “But whoever did it would certainly have gone to retrieve the camera, so why didn’t he bend the grille back then?” Reuben asked.

  “He might have tried, but once you start bending those grilles, it’s hard to get them back perfectly.” He looked at Caleb. “Are you all right?”

  Caleb was ashen-faced. “If what you’re saying is true, then someone working at the library killed Jonathan. No one else could’ve entered the book vault unaccompanied.”

  “What the hell’s that?” Reuben hissed.

  Alarmed, Stone looked at the door. “Someone’s coming. Quick, behind here.”

  They scrambled behind the HVAC system, Reuben having to half carry the terrified Caleb. They had barely gotten out of sight before the double doors opened. Four men came in, all wearing blue jumpsuits. Right behind them a forklift sailed into the room, driven by a fifth man. Another, obviously the boss, held a clipboard as the others gathered around him.

  “Okay, we’re taking this one, this one and that one,” he said, pointing at three cylinders, including two attached to the piping. “And replacing them with the three on the forklift,” he added.

  The men went to work carefully unhooking the enormous pressurized cylinders from the pipes while Stone and the others watched from their hiding place.

  Reuben glanced at Stone, who shook his head and put a finger to his lips. Caleb was shaking so badly that Stone grabbed one of his arms and Reuben the other to try and steady him.

  A half hour later the three cylinders were lifted up by the forklift and strapped on. Next the three cylinders the men had brought in were attached to the piping system. Then the forklift moved out of the room, with the other men trailing. As soon as the doors closed behind the men, Stone went over to the newly installed cylinders and read the labels. “FM-200. Caleb, you said the library was scrapping the halon system. They must be replacing it with this type of fire suppressant.”

  “I suppose,” Caleb replied.

  “Okay, we’ve got to follow them,” Stone said.

  Caleb whimpered, “Please, Oliver, no.”

  “Caleb, we have to.”

  “I . . . don’t . . . want to die!”

  Stone shook him hard. “Get ahold of yourself, Caleb. Right now!”

  Caleb looked at Stone in stunned amazement and then sputtered, “I don’t appreciate you assaulting me.”

  Stone ignored this. “Which way is the loading dock?”

  Caleb told him, and as they were heading out, Stone’s cell phone buzzed. It was Milton. Stone told him what had happened. “We’re going to follow the cylinders,” he said. “We’ll keep you posted.”

  Milton clicked off the phone and looked up at Annabelle. They were in her hotel room. He relayed what Stone had told him.

  “That could be dangerous,” she said. “They don’t really know what they’re getting into.”

  “But what can we do?”

  “We’re their backup, remember?”

  She ran to the closet, pulled out a bag and slipped a small box out of it.

  Milton immediately looked embarrassed because it was a tampon box.

  She noted his discomfort. “Don’t get all shy on me, Milton. Women always hide things they don’t want found in their tampon box.” She opened the box, took something out and slipped it in her pocket. “They said the name of the company was Fire Control. I’m assuming they’re going to the company’s storage facility. Can you find it?”

  “Your hotel has WiFi, so I can look it up on the Net,” Milton said, his fingers already flying over the keyboard.

  “Good. Is there a novelty store around here somewhere?” she added.

  He thought for a moment. “Yeah. It’s got like magic stuff too. And it’s open late.”

  “Perfect.”

  CHAPTER 37

  THE NOVA FOLLOWED THE FIRE Control, Inc., truck at a discreet distance. Caleb was driving, Stone next to him and Reuben in the rear.

  “Why don’t we just call the police and let them handle it?” Caleb complained.

  “And tell them what?” Stone said. “You said the library is having the old system scrapped. For all we know, that’s all those men are doing. And it might alert the wrong people that we’re on to something. We need stealth here, not the cops.”

  Caleb snapped, “Terrific! So I have to go in harm’s way instead of the police? What the hell I pay taxes for I’m sure I don’t know.”

  The truck turned left and then hung a right. They had passed through the Capitol Hill area and entered a run-down part of town.

  “Slow down,” Stone said. “The truck’s stopping.”

  Caleb eased the car to the curb. The truck had halted at a chain-link gate that another man inside the complex was now opening.

  “It’s the storage facility,” Stone said.

  The truck pulled through, and the gate was locked behind it.

  “Well, that’s all we can do here,” Caleb said in a relieved tone. “My God, do I need a decaf cappuccino after this nightmare of an evening.”

  Stone said, “We need to get inside the fence.”

  “Right,” Reu
ben agreed.

  “Are you both insane!” Caleb cried out.

  “You can wait in the car, Caleb,” Stone said. “But I have to check out what’s going on in there.”

  “But if you get caught?”

  “Then we get caught. I think it’s worth it,” Stone replied.

  “And I can stay in the car?” Caleb said slowly. “But that doesn’t seem fair if you two are risking—”

  Stone cut him off. “If we need to get away quickly, it’s better to have you in the car, ready to roll.”

  “Absolutely, Caleb,” Reuben agreed.

  “Well, if you say so.” Caleb tightened his grip on the wheel and got a determined look. “I have been known to lay down rubber on occasion.”

  Stone and Reuben slipped out of the car and made their way toward the fence. Hiding behind a stack of old boards outside the storage complex, they watched as the truck parked in a corner of the lot. The men climbed off the truck and walked into the main building. A few minutes later the men, wearing their street clothes, drove off in their own cars. A security guard locked the gate behind them and went back into the main building.

  “Our best bet is probably to scale the fence on the other side where the truck’s parked,” Reuben said. “That way the truck is between us and the building in case the guard comes back out.”

  “Good plan,” Stone said.

  They hustled around to the other side of the fence. Before they started climbing, Stone tossed a stick at the fence. “Wanted to make sure it wasn’t electrified.”

  “Right.”

  They slowly scaled the fence and quietly dropped down on the other side, squatted low and started making their way toward the truck. Halfway there, Stone stopped and motioned for Reuben to drop to his belly. They scanned the area but saw no one. They waited another minute and started moving again. Stone suddenly veered away from the truck toward a small concrete-block building near the rear of the fence. Reuben hurried after him.

  The door had a lock, but one of Stone’s keys fit it.

  Inside, the place was filled with large cylinders. Stone took out a small flashlight he’d brought with him and shone it around. There was a workbench littered with tools, and a small paint machine in one corner next to some cans of paints and solvent. Hanging on one wall was a portable oxygen tank and mask. Stone flicked his light on some of the cylinders and read off, “FM-200. INERGEN. Halon 1301, CO2, FE-25.” He stopped and came back to the CO2 cylinder, studying the markings closely.