Hell's Corner

CHAPTER 56

Chapman turned and took a few hesitant steps away from Stone. When she turned back he hadn’t moved. He was just looking at her.

She came back to him. “What do you want from me?”

“The truth.”

“I thought you said you trusted me?”

“All trust has limits. And it has to be constantly earned.”

“You didn’t tell me that part.”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

“You’re putting me in a very awkward position.”

“I know.”

“I need a drink.”

Stone raised his eyebrows at this. “Okay. But it would be nice if you remained sober.”

“You should’ve seen me doing pub crawls whilst at university. I can hold my bloody liquor.”

She turned and headed off.

“Agent Chapman?”

She turned back to him. “What!” she snapped.

He pointed behind him. “There’s a bar right there.”

She looked where he was pointing. “Right. Well done.” She pushed past him and into the bar.

Five minutes later she’d downed two vodka tonics while Stone sipped on a bottle of ginger ale and eyed her steadily. “You sure you’ll be able to drive home okay?”

“It’s a bloody breeze driving here after London.”

“Not if you’re drunk. A British agent arrested for DUI?”

“I’m not drunk!”

“Okay. Then let’s move on.” He stared at her, waiting.

“I can’t tell you everything. I hope you understand that,” she said.

“I don’t.”

“Well, too bad. That’s just the way it has to be.”

Stone rose. “Take care of yourself.”

She gazed up at him in amazement. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“Stone!”

He turned and left.

He walked block after block, his long legs eating up the pavement in great chunks as adrenaline roared through his body. He thought she was different. He was wrong.

Same old shit, he thought. Same old shit.

He passed the Capitol building and kept going until he recognized the area he was in. Whether he had meant to come here or not he wasn’t sure, but he was a man who almost always followed his instincts. He passed throngs of young men on the street. When several seemed overly interested in him, he stuck his federal badge on his belt and let them see his gun. They immediately backed off.

“It’s cool,” one said.

Another said with a grin, “Hey, Gramps, ever kill anybody with that gun?”

“No,” lied Stone. He held up a finger. “But I have with this.”

The young men looked skeptical.

One said, “You killed somebody with just your pinky? Right.”

He showed them the finger again. “Not the pinky. This is the index finger. It gives far more leverage against the carotid, so it’s easier to crush.”

The men shuffled off.

Stone walked on.

He reached the door, knocked.

He heard the clunks as she came to answer it.

The door opened and Carmen Escalante looked up at him with wide, sad eyes.

“Yes?” she said.

“I was here before,” he said, showing her his badge.

“Yes, I remember. What is it you want?”

“To see how you’re doing.”

“That’s right,” said a voice.

Stone turned and saw Chapman standing a few feet behind him. She came forward. She looked a bit out of breath, and she was holding her high heels in her left hand.

“We wanted to make sure you were okay,” she said, getting her breathing under control and slipping on her shoes.

“May we come in?” asked Stone, still staring at Chapman.

“Yes, okay.”