wrinkled-looking Caleb came out of the bathroom dressed in his clothes from the night before.
“Caleb, when the men grabbed you last night, did they say anything?”
Caleb scowled. “Oh, yes. They said if I made a sound they’d kill me! And to think that when I was putting the key in my door, all I was contemplating was having a nice glass of sherry and rereading the opening to Don Quixote.”
“I meant did they mention that they were working for Jerry Bagger?”
“No, they didn’t. Actually, they didn’t really say anything. They didn’t have to, they had guns.”
“Did they mention Annabelle?”
“No, nothing like that. Why?”
“Did they mention someone named John Carr?”
“Who’s he?”
“Never mind. Did they say that name?”
“No.”
Stone really had no way of knowing if the kidnappers were after Annabelle or John Carr. They could have tracked him down through Caleb, Stone reasoned. He had been to the library before to visit his friend. They had all just assumed that the men were with Bagger. But what if they were part of the team that had been killing Triple Sixes? That had killed Carter Gray? Yet if they were after him, surely they could have discovered his alter ego and also where he lived.
“So what do I do now?” Caleb asked, breaking in on Stone’s musings. “I should’ve left for work ten minutes ago. I’ve got no clothes, no toiletries, nothing.”
Stone, annoyed at being interrupted, said curtly, “Call in sick.”
“That takes care of today. What about tomorrow and the day after that?”
“Do you have vacation time?”
“Yes, but I work for the federal government. You can’t just up and take vacation time. You have to plan, you have to give notice.”
“We’ll worry about that tomorrow. For now, just stay here and relax.”
“Relax! After being kidnapped and almost being killed? After being shut out of my home and job because some maniac is after me? You expect me to relax?”
“Well, it’s either that or slit your wrists. I’ll let you make the decision,” Stone snapped as he headed out the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To see our friend.”
“Great. You can tell Annabelle that I need more friends like her like I need a colonoscopy without anesthesia.”
Paddy emerged from the bathroom, his hair wet from the shower. “What’s going on?”
Stone said, “Caleb here was just about to make you some breakfast, right, Caleb?”
“What?”
Paddy looked from Stone to Caleb and smiled. “Well, that’s damn nice of you.”
For an instant Caleb looked like he might start screaming, but he calmed just as quickly. While Paddy had been sleeping, Stone had told Caleb all about the man, including the fact that he was dying.
Caleb said graciously, “I am a public servant after all.”
“I’ll leave you to it then,” Stone replied.
As Stone walked quickly out of the graveyard part of him was afraid that Annabelle would have fled again, after the close call the night before. Yet half an hour later he found her in her room at the new hotel. She’d just finished breakfast. She poured him a cup of coffee and perched on the edge of the bed in her hotel robe, looking tired and anxious.
“How’s Paddy?”
“He actually seems better this morning. More of a spring in his step.”
“It’s because of the action last night. He thrives on that. Always has.”
“We’re lucky he was there last night. He saved our lives.”
“I know,” Annabelle said in a not-so-pleased tone. “It pisses me off. Now I sort of owe him.”
Choosing his words carefully, Stone said, “Did you recognize the men last night? I mean as definitely being with Bagger?”
“No, but who else could it be?”
“You remember that little problem of mine I mentioned?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it might be possible that the men last night were after me, not you.”
“What? Who would be after you?”
“Get dressed. We’re going to take a little ride. There’s something you need to know about me.”
“Where are we going?”
“Arlington National Cemetery. There’s something I have to show you.”
CHAPTER 53
“OLIVER, DON’T YOU GET TIRED of graveyards? I mean, it seems a little obsessive,” Annabelle commented as they trudged along the asphalt at Arlington, the nation’s most exalted burial ground for its military dead. Most of the graves were represented by a simple white marker, although some of the statuary over the tombs of the famous, or else the very rich, were extraordinarily ostentatious, and often in rather poor taste. To Stone it seemed the less grandiose the grave marker the more the departed had actually done for his country.
He said, “Come on. It’s not much farther.”
He led her down the familiar path, counting off the rows in his head. This was a quiet section of the cemetery, one that he had often visited just to have some peace.
An instant later, he felt himself stagger, his balance suddenly gone. The area was not so quiet and peaceful today. At the thirty-ninth grave marker in the fourth row of this section of dead there was a great deal of activity in fact. Men were digging. As Stone and Annabelle watched, the coffin was raised out of the earth and carried past them to a waiting van that had been driven onto the path.
“Oliver?” Annabelle said. “What is it? What’s wrong?” She put a hand on his shoulder as he steadied himself against a tree.
Stone finally found his voice. “Do not follow me out of here. I’ll meet you back at the cottage.”
“But—”
“Just go.” He set off in the direction of the departing van.
As the cemetery workers started to fill the hole back in, Annabelle strolled casually by the grave.
“I thought they were supposed to put coffins in the graves, not take them out,” she said.
One worker glanced up at her, but said nothing. He went back to his shoveling.
She moved a bit closer, squinting to read the name on the marker.
“Uh, can you tell me where they do the changing of the guard here?” she asked as she edged closer.
As the worker told her she glanced over his shoulder and finally made out the name chiseled on the marker.
“John Carr,” she said to herself.
On foot, Stone followed the van until it hit the main road and then shot out of sight, after passing around the traffic circle leading away from the cemetery. It didn’t cross over Memorial Bridge into Washington. Instead the van headed west, farther into Virginia. Stone had a good idea where it and the coffin were going: Langley, home of the CIA.
He called Reuben on his cell phone.
“I want you to contact every friend you have at DIA and find out why a grave was exhumed at Arlington National Cemetery today.”
“Whose grave?” Reuben asked.
“A man by the name of John Carr.”
“Did you know the guy?”
“As well as I know myself. Hurry, Reuben, it’s important.”
Stone clicked off and made another phone call, this time to Alex Ford, the only living person other than Annabelle Conroy who knew that Stone’s real name was John Carr.