Hell's Corner

CHAPTER 79

Stone woke and looked around. He was in his cottage, lying in his old army cot. He checked his watch. Two a.m. He got up, showered, scrubbing his skin and hair especially hard for a reason he couldn’t really fathom. He dried off and slipped on his pants, shirt and shoes. After leaving Marisa Friedman’s office and before coming home he’d walked for hours, until his legs were sore from smacking into the concrete sidewalks. Then he’d come here, falling asleep almost right away simply because he was exhausted.

He took some Advil, sat on the side of his cot and waited for the dull ache in his head to subside. Two concussions in a short period of time. At twenty he could shrug that off. Now he could not. It was all taking its toll. The next one might just do him in.

Maybe I can blame all the mistakes on being blown up twice.

His thoughts once more turned to Marisa Friedman. A deserted island. Two old spies. He touched his lips where she’d kissed him. He couldn’t say he hadn’t felt… something. In fact, she had made it clear that she would go much farther than a kiss.

And her offer to leave together? A beautiful woman. An intelligent lady. A woman who had worked in the world he had. At first Stone had thought it ridiculous. He had only told her he would think about it to appease her.

Now? Now maybe he really was thinking about it. What was left for him here? He had his friends. But right now anyone close to him would suffer too. Riley Weaver would see to that. It had all disintegrated with surprising speed.

The headache finally weakened and he put on a jacket, left the cottage and walked around the familiar grounds of Mt. Zion. Even in the dark he knew where each tombstone was, every path, every tree. He stopped in front of a few graves of the long dead. He would sometimes talk to these folks, by name. He never got an answer, but it still helped. Allowed him to think through a particularly difficult problem.

And I’ve got a few of those right now.

The slight crack of a stick made him turn and stare down the path.

“I take it you never sleep?”

Chapman walked toward him. Dark slacks, white blouse, leather jacket. The Walther underneath.

“Can say the same about you,” he said.

“Been looking for you.”

“Why?”

“You hungry?”

Stone hadn’t realized how hungry he was until she asked. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d eaten. “Yeah, I am.”

“Me too.”

He held up his watch. “D.C. is not a late-night town. Everything’s closed.”

“I know a place. All-night restaurant. On the Virginia side.”

“How?”

“I’m an insomniac. So I always do a recon for late-night eateries in whatever area I’m in.”

“Let’s go.”

She drove across the river, taking the GW Parkway and turning off onto Route 123 heading toward Tysons Corner. There was no traffic and the lights were all green, so very shortly they were pulling into the Amphora restaurant parking lot in the suburb of Vienna. There were over a dozen other cars there. Stone looked around in surprise. “Never knew this was here. And it looks popular.”

Chapman opened her door and got out. “You should get out more.” She smacked the door closed with her hip.

They went in and both ordered breakfast. The coffee and food came fast and was delivered by a white-jacketed and black-bow-tied waiter who had astonishing enthusiasm for nearly three o’clock in the morning.

“Came by to see you earlier,” Chapman said. “You weren’t home.”

Stone ate some of his scrambled eggs. “I was out.”

“Out where?”

“Does it matter?”

“You tell me.”

“You have something you want to say, say it.”

Chapman swallowed a bite of bacon. “So you’re really just giving up?” she said. “Doesn’t sound like the John Carr I’ve heard about.”

“I’m getting a little tired of people throwing the name ‘John Carr’ around like I’m supposed to suddenly put on a cape and solve the world’s problems. In case you hadn’t noticed, that was a long time ago and I have enough of my own problems to deal with.”

Chapman abruptly stood. “Well excuse me. I thought you still gave a shit.”

Stone clamped a hand around her wrist and pulled her back down into her seat.

“I’ll give you a fight if that’s what you want,” she snapped.

“What I want is a little bit of reason and logic.”

“Hey, buddy!”

Stone turned to see a large, broad-shouldered man standing next to the table. The man said, “If I were you I’d leave the lady alone.” He put a hand on Stone’s shoulder.

Chapman glanced quickly at Stone and saw the look in his eye and then watched as his arms tensed to strike.

“It’s okay.” She opened her jacket to show her gun and then held up her badge. “We were just arguing over who was going to pay the check. But thanks for coming to a lady’s aid, love.”

“You sure?” said the man.

Stone ripped the man’s hand off his shoulder. “Yeah, she’s sure, love.”

They finished their meal and drove back to Stone’s cottage. Stone made no move to get out of the car. Chapman glanced over at him but kept silent.

“Thanks for breakfast,” he said.

“You’re welcome.”

A chunk of silence passed as the darkest part of the night drifted past them and the edge of the sky began to lighten.

“I don’t like being beaten,” Stone said.

“I can understand that. Neither do I. That’s why when I start something I want to finish it. I’m sure you feel that way too.”

“I didn’t have much choice about starting this case.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me, Oliver.”

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s always bloody complicated.”

Stone glanced out the window as though he expected to see someone watching. “It was my penance, I guess.”

“Penance? I take it other people suffered because of something you did?”

“I sincerely hope so,” Stone said.

“And now that the mission went to hell?”

“I don’t know, Mary. I really don’t know what that means for me.”

“So go out on your terms.”

He looked at her. “How?”

“Let’s finish the bloody case, that’s how.”

“I’m not sure where to start.”

“Usually at the beginning is a good spot.”

“We tried that.”

“So they expect us to go left, we go right.”

“We did that last time and look what happened.”

“So we just go right a little bit harder and farther,” she said. “Any ideas on that?”

Stone thought for a minute or two while Chapman continued to watch him. “Not really, no.”

“Well, I’ve got one,” she said. “Tom Gross.”

“The dead can’t talk.”

“Not what I mean.”

“What, then?”

“Remember when we were sitting in that coffee shop and he told us about being watched?”

“Yes, so?”

“So he told us something. He said there was only one person he trusted.”

It only took Stone a couple of seconds to recall this. “His wife,” he said.

“So I wonder if he trusted her enough to tell her something that could help us?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

“So you’re back on the hunt?”

He took a few moments to answer. “Unofficially. Which is actually right where I belong.”