Hell's Corner

CHAPTER 15

From the anteroom they were admitted into the office of the vice president. He was a tall, white-haired and well-fed man with a reassuring smile and a strong handshake, no doubt built up over thousands of campaign stops. The chief of staff was short and wiry with eyes that continually swept the space around him, like a radar array.

It suddenly occurred to Stone that the VP being here made sense beyond providing gravitas. He was on the president’s National Security Council. Still, Stone was actually surprised the man would agree to meet with him directly and not through an underling. But then again, it was hard to refuse your president.

The pleasantries were made and quickly dispensed with. Alex Ford stood by the door, a security presence now and not a friend.

The VP said, “The president asked that we meet with you.” He nodded in Chapman’s direction. “With you both. We obviously want to get to the bottom of this, uh, delicate matter as quickly as possible.”

In his mind Stone translated this into plain English. What the VP had actually just communicated was, “This is not my idea, and though I’m being somewhat loyal to my president I won’t take the blame if it blows up. That’s why the chief of staff is here. My boss might go down, but not me.”

Stone wondered if either man had been made aware of the original plan to ship Stone off to Mexico to help deal with the Russian cartel nightmare. American vice presidents often had been kept in the dark by the chief executive. Chiefs of staff typically knew everything the president did.

The VP inclined his head at the chief of staff, who held out a black leather card case to Stone. “Your credentials,” said the man.

Stone slowly took the offered item, opened it and gazed at his face, which was staring back at him from the depths of the official photo that was part of his new commission. He wondered when they had taken his picture. Perhaps when he was sitting in the room at the NIC, which meant that Riley Weaver knew all about this. He had to smile when he saw his typed name:

Oliver Stone.

Next to the photo was his ID card. On it, he had officially become a field agent of the national coordinator for security, infrastructure protection and counterterrorism. This all made sense, Stone thought. The national coordinator worked within the National Security Council and reported to the president through the national security advisor. There was a link to the White House, but with one step in between. The president was covering all the bases. Just as his savvy VP was now doing. He flipped to the next sleeve in the case and there was his shiny badge with the agency insignia.

He said, “Interesting choice of agencies.”

The VP smiled his winning and inscrutable smile. “Yes, isn’t it?”

Yet Stone had managed to read a thousand such inscrutable faces. And the VP’s was no exception.

He believes this is all insane, and he’s probably right.

The chief of staff added, “It carries the same weight as DHS and the FBI. If not a bit more, actually. There are few doors that won’t open. And most of them are in this building.”

Well then, let’s hope I won’t have to try and open any doors here, thought Stone. He said to the chief of staff, “You serve at his pleasure.” Before the startled man could say anything, Stone turned to the VP. “And you obviously trust your running mate’s judgment, or at least hope he’s not making a serious miscalculation by conferring this authority on me.”

Both men now appeared to look at Stone in a different light.

The VP nodded. “He’s a good man. So I hope that his trust is justified when this is all said and done. I assume you feel the same way.”

Stone pocketed his new credentials without answering.

The chief of staff said, “You will be sworn in after this meeting by a representative of the national coordinator’s office. Thus you will also have arresting authority. You are also entitled to a sidearm. If you so choose,” he added in a dubious tone.

It was clear the chief of staff too thought it was madness to be handing over this much authority to a man like him. Stone briefly wondered how long the chief of staff had argued with the president over this decision before the latter had won out.

Stone glanced at Chapman. “My friend from MI6 here has a very nice Walther PPK. I think that will do for now.”

“All right.” The VP rose, signaling an end to the meeting. Stone knew that his working hours were measured in fifteen-minute increments and he had added incentive to have this particular encounter over.

Wait much longer and the smell of all this might permanently attach to you, sir.

They all shook hands. The VP said, “Good luck, Agent Stone.”

As they followed Alex back down the hall, Chapman said wryly, “Hell, if I knew it was this easy to become an American agent I would’ve come over here a long time ago.”

“It did go a bit too smoothly,” said Stone as he eyed Alex.

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.”