Stone Cold (Camel Club 3)

Bagger’s place.

Alex stuffed the notes in his pocket, rose and stretched out his lean six-foot-three-inch frame, massaging the muscles in his neck with his hand. He’d broken his neck in an accident years ago while on presidential protection detail and the surgically installed metal there sometimes gave him fits. Next step was to contact this Susan Hunter, if that was really her name, which, after seeing these notes, he was pretty certain wasn’t the case.

The next instant he froze. Someone was coming. He slid over next to the bathroom door and waited.

The intruder came in, went immediately over to the desk and seemed to be very upset that nothing was there.

Alex stepped out and put his gun against the person’s head.

True to her unflappable nature, Annabelle Conroy didn’t scream, but she did say, “I hope to hell you have the safety on.”

He lowered his gun and stepped back. Annabelle was dressed in a short skirt, sandals and a jean jacket; her long blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail and partially covered under a ball cap. She took off her sunglasses and stared up at the tall federal agent.

“You’re Secret Service, right?”

He nodded. “Alex Ford. And I know you, you’re—”

“Unemployed.” She looked around. “He’s not here?”

Alex was staring at the small hook-shaped scar under Annabelle’s right eye. He caught himself and said, “No, he’s not.”

“Any idea where he might be?”

“Not really.”

“Good-bye then.”

As she headed to the door, Alex said sharply, “Annabelle!”

She jerked around.

Alex smiled. “Annabelle Conroy, pleased to meet you. Let me guess, father is Paddy, mother or maybe sister’s name is Tammy?” He pulled out the notes from his pocket. “And it seemed you might have been looking for these.”

She eyed the papers and said, “I thought Oliver was more discreet than that.”

“He is. I figured it out on my own.”

“Good for you. Well, I guess I’ll be leaving.”

“You want me to tell Oliver anything in case I see him?” Alex asked.

“No. I don’t think I have anything to say to him. Not anymore, anyway.”

“But you came to see him?”

“So? Why are you here?” she said.

“Because I’m his friend and I’m worried about him.”

“He can take care of himself.”

“Any idea why he disappeared?” Alex asked, though he knew the answer.

“It’s because they dug up a grave at Arlington Cemetery. His grave, apparently.” She watched Alex closely, presumably to see how he would react to this. “Did I pass your little test?”

He nodded. “Oliver must really trust you if he told you about that.”

“Let’s put it this way: I thought he did trust me, but it turns out he didn’t.”

“I heard Bagger can be pretty ruthless.”

If she was startled by this Annabelle didn’t show it. “What’s a Bagger? You mean like at a grocery store?”

He handed her one of his cards. “Oliver called me and told me to help you while he was otherwise engaged.”

This news did startle her. “He asked you to help me?”

“He insisted on it, in fact.”

“And you do what he tells you to?” she said.

“He said he’d trust you with his life. There aren’t many people he says that about. I happen to be one of them. We tend to look out for each other.”

She hesitated, before slipping the card in her purse. “Thanks.”

Alex watched in silence as she walked back to her car.

CHAPTER 59

CAMP DAVID, though it was often used as a working retreat, was also a place that allowed the president of the United States to get away from the stresses of the most impossible job on earth. The White House Press Office had issued a notice to journalists covering the president that this weekend was only for the president and his family. That was a lie, or at least a subterfuge, as statements issued by the press office sometimes were. The president was receiving a visitor, a very special visitor, and complete secrecy was necessary.

“Thank you, Mr. President, for seeing me so swiftly,” Carter Gray said as he sat down across from the man in his private office at the camp. As much as Gray had come to enjoy his bunker life, there was something to be said for venturing aboveground every once in a while.

“I’m just glad you’re all right,” the president said. “A very narrow escape for you.”

“Well, I can’t say it was the first time, but I hope it is the last. And I appreciate the latitude you’ve given me, on an unofficial basis of course, to pursue this matter.”

“I could sense its urgency when we spoke by phone. But I’d like a fuller understanding.”

“Of course.” Gray gave the president a thumbnail history of Lesya, the treachery of Rayfield Solomon and the recent murders of the Triple Sixes. “And now we come to the last member of that unit, John Carr.”

“The fellow who they dug up at Arlington? I’ve been briefed on that.”

“Yes, well, that coffin did not hold the remains of John Carr.”

“Who was it, then?”

“Not important, sir. What is critical is that John Carr escaped thirty years ago.”

“Escaped? Was he a prisoner?”

“No, a traitor. He worked for us, but we had cause to terminate his association with CIA because of his actions.”

“Terminate? Why not just prosecute him?”

“There were extenuating circumstances, sir. A public trial would not have been in the best interests of this country. So we had to take matters in our hands. Duly authorized of course by your predecessor.”

The president sat back and fingered his teacup. “Different times back then, I suppose. Dirty business.”

“Yes sir. That sort of thing is no longer done, of course,” Gray said quickly. “However, the termination attempt failed. And now I think it’s come back to haunt us.”

“How so?”

“It seems clear that the man behind the deaths of the three former CIA agents is Carr.”