Hell's Corner (Camel Club 5)

“Okay, set up roadblocks and search teams along a mile perimeter. It’s probably too late, but we have to try.”

The cop grabbed his radio to do this.

Stone said to Chapman, “Keep low and follow me.”

They made their way stealthily up to the body. Kravitz was lying on his back, his arms and legs splayed, his eyes open and staring lifeless up at a blue sky. A patch of crimson was on his shirt where the bullet had gone in.

“Single tap,” observed Stone. “LV.”

“LV?”

“Left ventricle. For torso shots I preferred the aorta myself.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Stone didn’t even glance at her; his gaze was skimming over Kravitz. “Working knowledge of the human body is part of any good sniper’s curriculum.”

“Well, I guess we know now that Kravitz was part of the bombing plot.”

“And somebody shot him to keep him from talking to us. That seems clear. The part that isn’t so clear is how they knew we were coming for him this morning.”

Chapman looked around. “I see what you mean. We haven’t told anyone. Gross picked us up at the park on the spur of the moment. Wilder couldn’t have called anyone because Gross is with him.”

Stone stiffened. “Damn it!”

“What?”

Stone didn’t answer. He punched in the number for the FBI agent. The phone rang and rang and then went to voice mail. Instructing the cops to stay at the crime scene and wait for their backup, Stone did a hundred on the way back to the tree farm while Chapman white-knuckled the armrest. Along the way he called in more LEOs to meet them at the tree farm. When they pulled in the parking lot, he knew something was wrong. He pointed to the tread marks on the parking lot asphalt. “Those weren’t there when we left. Somebody got out of here in a hell of a hurry.”

Stone didn’t wait for the other cops to arrive. He pulled his gun and kicked open the door to the office. The woman who’d ushered them in to see Wilder was lying on the floor, a bullet hole in the middle of her forehead. Stone motioned to Chapman to cover him as he approached the door to the interior office. Crouched down, and using the wall as a shield, he turned the knob with his free hand and pushed the door inward. Then he backed away and took up position where he had a clear firing line into the office.

From her vantage point Chapman had already seen it. She caught a quick breath as Stone moved next to her.

Wilder was on the floor just inside the office. Even as far away as they were, Stone and Chapman could see that a good portion of his face was gone.

“Shotgun,” said Stone.

He moved forward, keeping his gun trained straight ahead, ready to fire in an instant if something came at him. A few seconds later he gave the all clear.

Chapman joined him as he gazed down at the body of Special Agent Tom Gross where it lay behind the desk, his gun in his hand. There were two bullet holes in his broad chest. Stone knelt and checked the man’s pulse. He shook his head. “He’s gone. Shit! Damn it!”

“What the hell is going on?” said Chapman as she stared down at the dead man.

Stone looked around. “They split us up and played us out,” he said. “It’s like they know what we’re going to do even before we do.” He knelt down and touched the barrel of the gun. “Warm. He fired it, very recently.”

“Maybe he hit one of them.”

“Maybe.” He scanned the room for other signs of blood but found none. He pointed to the opposite wall where a bullet had lodged. “Probably Gross’s one shot before he went down. At least he died fighting.”

“What the hell do we do now?”

They heard sirens coming.

“I don’t know,” said Stone. “I don’t know.”

CHAPTER 36

“WHOSE IDEA WAS IT to leave Special Agent Gross alone?”

Stone and Chapman were at the FBI’s WFO, where they sat on one side of a long table and four grim men and one dour woman sat on the other side.

Stone said, “It was my idea. Agent Chapman and I went to the trailer to find John Kravitz and Agent Gross stayed behind with Lloyd Wilder.”

“Did you know whether any of the other workers at the tree farm were involved in the bombing conspiracy?” asked the woman, who had identified herself as Special Agent Laura Ashburn. She was dressed in a black suit and her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. About forty, she was of medium height, had pleasant features and a trim figure, but her eyes were black dots that bored through everything in their path. And right now the only thing in that path was Stone.

“We didn’t know that. And we still don’t.”

“And yet you left him there with no backup?” said one of the male agents.

Before Stone could answer another man said, “You left with Agent Chapman and you also had LEO support. And yet Tom Gross had none of that. He was alone.”

“I should have had Agent Chapman stay with Gross and then called in backup for them while I went to the trailer park,” conceded Stone.

Chapman interjected, “There was nothing stopping Agent Gross from doing that.”

All five FBI agents looked at her. One said, “When you’re trying to control a potential hostile situation and you have one potential bomber in your presence, you don’t really have time to yak on your phone.”

This same man turned back to Stone. “I understand that you are a recent hire by the adjunct agency to NSC.”

“I am.”

“But you’re a little old to be jumping into the game, aren’t you?”

Stone said nothing to this because what could he say, really?

Ashburn opened a file and added, “Can’t find much on you, Oliver Stone. Other than an illustrious film career.” The derision in her voice was mirrored in the expression of her four colleagues.

“Pretty rookie mistake for such a man of your years,” added the agent at the far left of the table. “Leaving an agent in a vulnerable situation.” He leaned forward. “What would you suggest that we tell his wife? His four kids? Got any suggestions? Love to hear them, Agent Stone.”

“I would tell them that her husband and their father died fighting. As a hero. That’s what I would tell them.”

“I’m sure that’ll make it all better,” sneered Ashburn.

Another agent said, “Have you ever been left all alone on assignment? I doubt it, since a guy like you probably covers himself at all times. Plenty of firepower at your back.”

Chapman spoke up. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. He saved my life and the lives of two police officers today. He figured out there was a shooter in the woods while we were standing around with our thumbs up our arses. And if you knew half of this man’s history you wouldn’t be sitting here grilling him for—”

“I don’t care about his history. I’m only concerned with the present,” Ashburn shot back.

“Well then, maybe you need to check with your superiors because—”

Stone put a hand on her arm. “Don’t,” he said quietly.

Ashburn closed her binder. “We’ll be filing a detailed report on this, the chief element of which will be a strong recommendation that you be removed from this case and a full investigation launched to see if any disciplinary or criminal charges should be imposed against you.”

“This is utterly ridiculous,” snapped Chapman.

Ashburn leveled a withering gaze on her, the black dots resembling hollow-points about to be launched. “I don’t know how it is across the pond, but this is America. Here we have accountability for our actions.” She glanced at Stone. “Or inaction, as the case may be.” She looked back at Chapman. “Piece of advice? I’d find a new partner if I were you.”

The agents all rose as one and filed out of the room.

Chapman glanced over at Stone. “Do you blokes routinely beat up on each other like that?”

“Usually only when it’s deserved.”

“And you think it is here?”

; “A good man is dead. He shouldn’t be. Someone has to be blamed for it. And I’m as good a selection as anyone.” He rose. “And maybe they’re right. Maybe I am too old for this.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”