Hell's Corner

CHAPTER 75

A day later Stone sat in a restaurant overlooking Fourteenth Street. He was dressed in a black jacket, white shirt and jeans. He had his gun but not his badge. In his mind, right now the former was critical and the latter was worthless. In a far corner of the restaurant with a clear view of the front door sat Harry Finn sipping on a glass of ginger ale and casually studying the menu. His 9mm rode in a shoulder holster against his chest.

Mary Chapman had the other end of the restaurant. Perched on a barstool, she sipped on a Coke. Her Walther was in her handbag.

Three guns awaiting their quarry.

Stone rose when they entered. Fuat Turkekul looked somewhat inconsequential next to the glamorous Friedman. The woman wore a dark pantsuit and her hair fell flawlessly around her shoulders. She was a beautiful lady, thought Stone. Which in her profession was a good thing. It attracted certain men and also made such men focus on the woman’s physical assets as opposed to what could really hurt them, which was her brain.

Stone shook hands with Turkekul and they all sat down. The Turk’s gaze roamed the room before falling back on Stone. He took a moment to slide the napkin in his lap before speaking.

“I was most surprised when Ms. Friedman asked me to meet with you. I did not presume that you would be in the… how do you say…?”

“The loop?” suggested Stone.

“Yes.”

“I get around,” Stone said vaguely. His gaze pinged off all corners of the restaurant and he came away satisfied. Two guards in suits had followed Turkekul and Friedman in and were waiting near the coat check. Friedman had told Stone that the security detail had standing orders that when she was with the man they were to keep a respectful distance. Riley Weaver’s men looked alert but relaxed. Stone kept out of their line of sight just in case they recognized him.

“And what did you wish to meet about?” asked Turkekul.

“How are things going with Adelphia?”

“We work well together. I am getting my feet wet, so to speak. And Ms. Friedman is a good partner as well.”

“Fuat hopes to make some progress in the next several months,” volunteered Friedman. She stared at Stone perhaps a beat too long before breaking off and picking up the menu the waiter had just dropped off.

Turkekul put up a hand. “These things take time. Americans want everything done yesterday.” He chuckled.

“We have that reputation, yes,” agreed Stone. “But recent events are troubling.”

Turkekul broke off a piece of bread from the basket in the center of the table and bit into it. He brushed the crumbs off the cloth and onto the floor. “You speak of the bomb and such?”

“The death of an FBI agent. The second bombing. The murder of the Park Service man. We have to stop it.”

“Yes, yes, but what does that have to do with me?”

“A group in Yemen with known ties to Al-Qaeda has claimed responsibility, so I think it has a lot to do with you. You are tasked with finding the head of that organization.”

Turkekul was already shaking his head. “I told you before that the Yemeni group is unreliable. I do not believe that they are behind the bombing or any of the other criminal acts.”

“Why?” asked Stone evenly.

Turkekul held up one finger. “First, they are not sophisticated enough. This sort of long-term planning and execution is not their forte. They will put a bomb in a car and blow it up, but that is all.” He held up another finger. “And second, they simply do not have the assets required to do such a mission here. You speak of many deaths but all through separate incidents. No, it is not them.”

“Okay, then who do you think it is?” Stone paused and glanced at Friedman. “Your old friend Osama? He certainly has the long-term planning skills. And the assets.”

Turkekul smiled and shook his head. “I think not.”

“And your reasons?”

“He has other, how do you say, fish to fry.”

“And what are those fish?”

“I am not prepared to say at the moment.”

Stone sat forward. “I wanted to meet with you to make a deal of sorts.”

Turkekul looked surprised. He glanced at Friedman before staring back at Stone. “I already have a deal with your government.”

“I didn’t say it was with my government.”

Turkekul looked taken aback. “I do not understand.” He gazed again at Friedman when he said this.

“We need to step things up a bit,” said Friedman. “And I think we now have the intel to do it.” She nodded at Stone.

Stone picked up this choreographed “tag” from the woman and said, “We’ve discovered that there’s a mole.”

Turkekul gazed in surprise at him. “A mole?” He shot Friedman another anxious look. “Where exactly?”

“Very close,” answered Stone. “We don’t have the person’s exact identity, but we do know that a significant event is being planned.”

“But how can you do anything about it if you don’t know the person’s identity?” Turkekul said with deliberate calm.

“That status is very near to changing,” said Stone. “For the last month we’ve had a source that we have been in the process of flipping. That’s principally why they brought me on, actually. And that’s why I was so interested in your presence, Fuat. I can call you Fuat, can’t I?”

“Of course. But I don’t understand why you would be interested in me in connection with this matter.”

Stone sat forward and dropped his voice. “Do you mind if we carry on this conversation elsewhere, somewhere more private?”

Turkekul again looked at Friedman, who nodded. “You really need to hear this, Fuat. It’s directly connected to you.”

The Turk glanced behind him, in the direction of his guards. “As Marisa knows, I do not travel alone.”

“It can be arranged,” said Stone.

“How?” Turkekul asked nervously.

“It can be arranged,” Stone said again. He motioned with his eyes in the direction of Chapman and Finn. Each nodded back when Turkekul glanced at them.

“Can’t you tell me here?” Turkekul asked.

Stone sat back. “You trust Marisa. And Marisa trusts me, or she wouldn’t have brought you here.”

“I do trust her.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“You obviously have never lived in the Middle East.”

“On the contrary, I have.”

When Stone next spoke it was in Pashto. Then he switched to Farsi. The effect on Turkekul was immediate.

“How do you know these languages?”

“My hair is white. I’ve been in this business a long time. But you’re referring to not trusting anyone because your friend is only a friend until he is your enemy?”

“Precisely.”

“Then I will chance being overheard and tell you why you need to be involved.”

“Yes?”

“A fatwa has been issued. A private one.”

“A fatwa? Against whom?”

“Against you.”

Turkekul looked stricken. “Against me? I do not understand.”

“Someone has found out you’re assisting the Americans, Fuat. They want to eliminate that assistance.”

Turkekul’s gaze swung between Stone and Friedman. “A fatwa? But I am an academic. I am no threat to anyone.”

“Someone has found out what you’re really doing. That is clear. The mole I spoke of? His target, it seems, was you. They know of your treachery.”

“This is… preposterous.”

“No, our information is rock solid. As you know, we’ve vastly improved our intelligence resources in that part of the world.”

“Who issued the fatwa?”

Stone said a name and the man’s face turned gray.

“They are…”

“Yes. And the group they have assigned to execute the fatwa have the reputation of never missing. I won’t mention their name, but trust me, you would recognize it.”

Turkekul looked shrunken now as he fidgeted with his hands.

Stone studied him. “I know your faith does not allow for the imbibing of alcohol, but perhaps an exception in this case? Then we can talk about what we would like for you to do.”

“Yes, I think. Perhaps some wine,” he said quickly.

Friedman motioned for a waiter.

Ten minutes later Turkekul left with Friedman. After he had gone, Stone and Chapman departed by a rear exit and climbed into a black Yukon with bulletproof windows and armor plating.

“Well done, Oliver,” said a booming voice from the backseat.

James McElroy was sitting there. “The audio feed was loud and clear. I heard everything.”

Stone sat back against the leather seat. “Well, let’s see if the man takes the bait.”