Stone Cold

CHAPTER 20

THE CAMEL CLUB MET that night at eight o’clock at Stone’s cottage. As usual, Milton brought his laptop and pecked on the keys, while Caleb sat anxiously in a rickety chair and Reuben leaned against a wall.

Stone told them about Susan’s dilemma and also that she had left town.

“Well, damn,” Reuben said. “We never even got to go out for a drink.”

Stone explained, “Jerry Bagger probably killed those people in Portugal and left her partner for dead. She needs our help, but feels it would put us in too much danger.”

Caleb squared his shoulders. “She obviously doesn’t know that this group absolutely revels in danger.”

Stone cleared his throat. “Yes, well, my original plan had been to investigate this Jerry Bagger and see if we could work to have him put in prison.”

“A good plan in theory, but how do we do it for real?” Reuben said.

“I thought it might be worthwhile to go up to Atlantic City and check him out.”

Milton said, “Here’s a picture of him. The Pompeii Casino has its own Web site.”

Caleb looked at Bagger smiling up from the computer screen and moaned fearfully. “Good God, look at that face; those eyes. He’s clearly a mobster, Oliver. You don’t go and check out mobsters.”

Reuben eyed Stone. “It might be a little dicey going to his home turf.”

“It’s only for information gathering,” Stone said. “No confrontations at all. Just observing and perhaps talking to a few people who might be helpful.”

“But if this Bagger person finds out? He might come after us!” Caleb said.

“What happened to you reveling in danger, Caleb?” Reuben reminded him.

Caleb retorted, “This man kills people, probably for jollies.”

“The good news is you don’t have to go, Caleb,” Stone said. He turned to the other two. “I thought Milton and Reuben could do the first recon; that is if Reuben can get some time off from the dock.”

“I can always find an excuse not to go lug big shit off big trucks for not-so-big bucks.”

Milton said simply, “Sounds good.”

“Sounds good?” Caleb exclaimed. “Milton, this man is dangerous. He’s a casino operator, for God sakes,” he added in a hiss. “He makes money off people’s addictions. I bet he’s involved in drugs too. And prostitution!” He ended with a dramatic flourish.

“You need to be careful,” Stone warned. “No unnecessary risks.”

“Understood,” Reuben said. “I can pick Milton up in the truck tomorrow morning.”

“And while you’re doing that, I’m going to track down Susan. She’s checked out of her hotel, but I have some ideas.”

“So what am I supposed to do while the three of you are out gallivanting around?” Caleb asked.

“Just the usual stuff, Superman,” Reuben said. “Keeping the nation’s capital safe for truth, justice and the American way.”

Stone said, “Oh, Caleb, I need to borrow your car. I doubt Susan’s still in the city so I’ll have to travel.”

Caleb stared at him in alarm. “You want to borrow my car? My car! That’s impossible.” Caleb’s ride was an ancient pewter gray Nova with an eternally rattling tailpipe. It had more rust than metal, more springs than upholstery, no working heat or AC, and the man treated it as though the wreck were a vintage Bentley.

“Just give him the keys,” Reuben growled.

“Then how will I get home tonight?”

“I’ll drive you on my motorcycle.”

“I refuse to ride in that death trap.”

Reuben gave him such a ferocious look that Caleb hastily pulled out his car keys and handed them to Stone. “Then again, there’s nothing wrong with trying new things.”

Caleb said suddenly, “Oliver, do you even have a driver’s license?”

“Yes, but unfortunately it’s been expired for over twenty years.”

Caleb paled. “But that means you can’t drive legally.”

“That’s right. But given the seriousness of what we’re doing I knew you’d understand.”

Stone left Caleb standing there openmouthed and moved over to Reuben, who was motioning to him from the front door.

Reuben spoke in a low voice. “Carter Gray’s house was blown up with him in it.”

“I was aware of it.”

“I hope not too aware.”

“The FBI has already spent time with me. I went out to Gray’s house or what’s left of it with a pair of agents and Alex Ford and gave them the benefit of my thoughts.”

“Murder?”

“Undoubtedly.”

Reuben said, “This doesn’t have anything to do with, you know, your past?” He was the only member of the Camel Club who remotely had any knowledge of what Stone had done decades ago.

“I hope not. I’ll see you when you get back from Atlantic City. Remember, keep a low profile.”

“While I’m there, you want me to lay down a bet for you at the craps table?”

“I never gamble, Reuben.”

“How come?”

“One, I don’t have any money, and two, I hate to lose.”