Hell's Corner (Camel Club 5)

The Secret Service agent said, “Things have changed in the last fifteen years. We’ve got more contractors walking around with guns and badges than you can imagine. Both in force protection in overseas military campaigns and right here at home. Just the nature of the beast.”

Out of Chapman’s earshot he added, “Look, you need to understand that people know John Carr is back.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“You have a lot of secrets, Oliver. Too many for some.”

“Yes, that had occurred to me too.”

“You don’t need to do this.”

“Yes, actually I do.”

“

Why?” demanded Alex.

“For a number of reasons.”

Looking highly disgruntled, Alex said nothing.

Stone said, “After we finish here we’re going back over to the park. Can you come with us?”

Alex shook his head. “I’m on protection duty here. And like I told you before, I’m not allowed anywhere near this investigation. They’ve built a Chinese wall around this sucker for obvious reasons.”

Stone studied him. “Because someone believes there’s a mole in the Service?”

The other man looked uncomfortable about this observation but nodded. “I think it’s a load of crap, but you have to cover all the bases.”

In another room of the White House Stone was sworn in. Next, Chapman got her beloved gun back and they left the White House. She and Stone headed to the park.

“Pretty nice to have the president of the only remaining superpower on your side.”

“Maybe.”

“Am I ever going to hear the full story on that?”

“No, you’re not.”

CHAPTER 16

STONE AND CHAPMAN flashed their badges and passed through the gauntlet of security at the park.

“What first?” she asked.

Stone pointed to a man encircled by suits. “Let’s go right to the top.”

They again showed their IDs. When the man saw Stone’s agency he motioned the pair over to a clear space.

“Tom Gross, FBI,” he said. “I’m the case agent. Out of WFO’s Domestic Counterterrorism Unit.” Gross was in his late forties, a bit shorter than Stone, stockier, with thinning dark hair and a serious expression that had probably been permanently stamped on his features one week after joining the Counterterrorism Unit.

Stone began, “We’re here because—”

Gross interrupted. “I got a phone call. You can expect the Bureau’s full cooperation.” He looked at Chapman. “Really glad your prime minister was unhurt.”

“Thanks,” replied Chapman.

Stone asked, “Has any group claimed responsibility?”

“Not yet.”

Gross led them to the point of origin of the explosion while Stone explained that he had been at the park last night. The small colored tents marking where evidence had been found had increased greatly in number while they had been across the street.

Gross said, “The media’s been all over this thing, of course, even though we’ve kept them well back from the crime scene. Damn mess, really. We’ve had to shut down everything within a full-block radius with the park as the center. Lot of pissed-off people.”

“I’m sure,” said Stone.

“The director has held a press conference in which he said very little, because we don’t know very much. The ADIC will handle the rest of the media through the MR Office,” he added, referring to the assistant director in charge and the FBI’s Media Relations Office. “We’re taking the lead over ATF, but they’re handling the heavy work on the bomb piece.”

Stone eyed Gross. “So you’ve concluded it’s international terrorism as opposed to domestic?”

“Can’t say that, no,” admitted Gross. “But because of the geographic proximity and the PM’s presence.”

“Right,” said Stone. “Have you seen the surveillance video of the park from last night?”

“Got it all set up at the mobile command post. Unfortunately, the damn cameras were knocked out by the blast. Surprised about that, because there’s about a dozen recorders stationed all around here and manned by probably five different agencies. The bomb might have been designed to jam them, though, for some reason.”

Stone’s face was inscrutable at this comment. The FBI had clearly not been privy to the unedited video. Stone filed that one away for now. “Source of the gunfire?” he asked.

Gross pointed to the northern end of the park. “Rooftop garden of the Hay-Adams Hotel. We found lots of shell casings. TEC-9 rounds.”

“Interesting choice of weapon,” said Stone.

“Why?” asked Gross.

“Limited range. About twenty-five useful meters. Which is shorter than the height they were firing down from. And it’s hard to hit anything with a TEC-9 that’s not standing right in front of you.”

“Well, they didn’t hit anything.”

“But you found no guns?” Stone asked.

Gross shook his head.

“How was that possible?” asked Chapman. “Do people just walk around in the States carrying machine guns? I thought the British press was making that up.”

“Not sure yet. And no, people do not walk around here carrying machine guns,” Gross added indignantly. “The hotel folks are cooperating fully. The garden is popular but not incredibly secure. Of course we shut the hotel down until the investigation is over. We kept all the guests on premises and are interviewing them right now.”

Stone asked, “Were the guns set up remotely or were human fingers pulling the triggers?”

“If they were operated remotely all traces were removed. For now I think we have to assume human involvement.”

“You said you locked the hotel down?” Stone said.

“Yes, but there was a time gap,” Gross conceded.

“How long?”

“It was pretty much chaos down here for a couple hours. When the source of the gunfire was confirmed, that was when the lockdown was set up.”

“So, easily enough time for the gunners to slip out, taking their hardware with them?”

“Multiple machine guns wouldn’t be exactly inconspicuous,” Gross pointed out.

Stone shook his head. “If you know what you’re doing you can break down a TEC-9 very quickly and fit it inside a briefcase.”

“We shut things down as fast as we could. But it is what it is.”

“Hopefully, someone at the hotel will remember seeing people leaving, perhaps with a bulky case?” noted Chapman.

Gross didn’t look too confident. “An event they had there was just letting out. Lots of people with briefcases leaving about that time, apparently.”

“That wasn’t a coincidence,” said Stone. “That was good prep work.”

A guy in a hazmat suit walked over to them. He tugged off his head covering. He was introduced as an agent from the ATF, Stephen Garchik.

Gross said, “Good to go?”

Garchik nodded and grinned. “Nothing that’ll kill you.”

Stone looked at the tent markers. They were divided between orange and white. The orange were far more numerous and were spread out relatively evenly around the park. The white markers were almost all on the western side of the park.

“Orange is bomb debris and white are locations of found slugs?” Stone ventured.

Garchik nodded approvingly. “Yep, obviously there were far more bomb bits than bullets, emanating from the blast seat.”

“What kind of explosive device was it, Agent Garchik?” Stone asked.

“Just make it Steve. Too early to tell. But by the size of the debris field and damage to that statue, it was some powerful stuff.”

“C-4, or Semtex maybe?” asked Chapman. “They can both do serious damage in relatively small footprints.”