oxygen to draw on, had endured in his final moments of life.
Finally, the roar stopped just as instantly as it had started. Annabelle moved to push the mask away, but Stone stopped her. Whispering, he said, “The oxygen levels are still depleted. We have to wait.”
Then he heard what sounded like a ventilator fan come on. Time passed, and with each tick Stone kept his eye on the door. Finally, he moved the mask from his face but kept it on Annabelle’s. He drew a careful breath and then another. He tossed off the blanket, lifted her up and over his shoulder and carried Annabelle to the exact spot where she’d been. Moving as quietly as possible, Stone grabbed up the nearly empty oxygen tank and stood behind the door to the room.
He didn’t have long to wait. A minute later the door opened and the first man came through. Stone waited. When the second man appeared, Stone swung the cylinder and caught him dead on the skull, crushing it. He dropped as though poleaxed.
The other man turned in alarm, ripping at the gun on his belt. The tank hit him flush in the face, driving him back against the worktable and into the hard metal of the vise attached there. He screamed in pain and clutched wildly at his injured back as the blood slicked his face. Stone slung the tank once more, catching the guy square on the temple. As the man fell to the floor, Stone dropped the tank, raced to Annabelle and untied her. She rose on shaky legs and looked down at the two battered men.
“Remind me never to piss you off,” she said, her face very pale.
“Let’s go before somebody else shows up.”
They raced out the door, scaled the fence and ran down the street. Three minutes later they had to pull up, breathing hard, sweat running down the dirty creases of their skin. They sucked in delicious air and then jogged another quarter mile until their legs were dead. They slumped down against the brick wall of what looked to be a warehouse.
“They took my phone,” Stone said, gasping for extra oxygen. “And by the way, I’m way too old for this shit. I seriously mean it.”
“Mine too . . . and me too,” she answered in halting breaths. “Oliver, I saw Trent in the house. His reflection in the mirror.”
“You’re sure?”
She nodded. “It was definitely him.”
Stone glanced around. “We have to get in touch with Caleb or Milton.”
“After what happened to us, do you think they’re okay?”
“I don’t know,” he said shakily. He lurched to his feet, held out a hand and pulled her up.
As they started walking fast down the street, she slowed and said quietly, “Is that how Jonathan died?”
He stopped and turned to her. “Yes. I’m sorry.”
She shrugged noncommittally but wiped a tear from her eye. “My God.” Her voice shook.
“Yes, my God,” Stone agreed. “Look, Susan, I never should have let you get involved in this.”
“First of all, my name’s not Susan.”
“Okay.”
“Second of all . . . tell me your real name and I’ll tell you mine.”
Stone hesitated just for a second. “Franklin, but my friends call me Frank. You?”
“Eleanor, my friends call me Ellie.”
“Franklin and Eleanor?” he said, looking bemused.
“You started it.” She smiled even as her eyes filled with tears and her body began to shake. “Oh, Jonathan.”
Stone reached out and gripped her shoulder, steadying the woman.
“I can’t believe this,” she said. “I haven’t even seen the man in forever.”
“It’s okay if you still care about him.”
“I wasn’t sure I did until right now.”
“There’s no law against it.”
“I’ll be okay. Believe me, I’ve been through far worse.” As soon as Annabelle said that, she started to sob uncontrollably. Stone pulled her close as her legs failed. They both sank to the cement, and Stone kept holding her as her fingers dug into him, her tears dampening his shirt and his skin.
Five minutes later she stopped except for a couple of last heaves. Pushing away from him, Annabelle rubbed her swollen eyes and her runny nose with her sleeve.
She said, “I’m sorry. I never, and I mean never, lose control like that.”
“Crying because you lost someone you love isn’t exactly unusual.”
“It’s just not . . . I mean . . . You never—”
Stone put his hand against her mouth and said quietly, “My real name is John. John Carr.”
Annabelle tensed for an instant and then relaxed. “I’m Annabelle Conroy. It’s nice to meet you, John.” She exhaled a deep breath. “Whoa, that’s not something I do very often.”
“Use your real name? I can sympathize. The last person I told tried to kill me.”
He stood and helped her up. As he turned, she kept ahold of his hand.
“Thank you, John, for . . . everything.”
He was clearly embarrassed by her gratitude, but she came to the rescue. “Let’s go and see if Milton and Caleb need saving. Okay?” Annabelle said.
A moment later they were jogging down the road.
CHAPTER 59
ANNABELLE AND STONE MADE A phone call from a service station, reaching Caleb. He had not yet fully recovered from finding Norman Janklow’s body but was able to relay some of what had happened. Stone called Reuben, and all arranged to meet back at Stone’s safe house. An hour later they were reassembled, and Stone and Annabelle reported their experience first.
“Damn,” Reuben said. “Good thing you thought of the oxygen, Oliver.”
Caleb and Milton told their story next.
Caleb added, “We called the police from a pay phone. Only took about an hour to find one in our cell-happy world. Thank goodness I remembered to take the candleholder; it has my fingerprints on it.”
“Did you touch anything else?” Stone asked.
Caleb looked worried. “I grabbed the handrail on the outside stoop.” He glared at Milton. “Because gadget boy here decided to scare the crap out of me. And I might have touched something else inside the house, I don’t remember. I’ve actually tried to block it out of my memory.”
“Your prints are in the federal database?” Stone said.
“Of course.” Caleb gave a resigned sigh. “Well, it won’t be the first time the coppers have come for me, and I doubt it’ll be the last.”
“What connection could this Norman Janklow have to all this?” Reuben asked.
Stone answered, “Janklow could’ve been a spy, like English. That means the books he looked at could’ve been secretly coded too.”
“They must’ve only pretended to dislike each other,” Caleb said. “To help maintain their cover.”
“Okay, but why kill Janklow?” Reuben persisted.
“If he was a spy, once we exposed English, maybe the whole thing started to unravel, and they had to start tying up loose ends,” Annabelle ventured. “They might have gotten English out of the way and left Janklow there dead to confuse things.”
“I’d say they accomplished their goal, then,” Caleb pointed out.
“We should go to the police now,” Milton said anxiously.
“And tell them what?” Stone argued. “The marks in the book have disappeared. And if we explain that we were almost killed tonight, we’d have to admit to having broken into Albert Trent’s home. I’m sure he’s already called the police to report the burglary.”
He glanced at Annabelle. “And even though you saw him, it’s your word against his. And I didn’t call the police about what happened at Fire Control, Inc., because I felt sure by the time they got there, the two men I attacked would’ve disappeared.” He looked at Caleb. “And since Caleb was at Jewell English’s home and his prints might be found there, if we go to the police, he’ll instantly become a suspect. Couple that with the fact that the authorities already have Caleb and Reuben on their radar, it’s all far too complicated for the police to believe.”
“Well, hell,” was R
euben’s sole comment to that analysis.
Annabelle said, “So what do we do? Wait for them to come after us again?”
Stone shook his head. “No. Caleb will go to work tomorrow as if nothing’s happened. The library will be in an uproar having lost a director and a patron in such a short time. Caleb, find out what you can. The news will give us some hint as to what the police think. And if they’ve killed English too, the body might turn up.”
Milton said, “I’ll keep my eye peeled on the Net for any of that. That’s where it’ll break first.”
Stone continued, “Bob Bradley, Jonathan DeHaven, Cornelius Behan and now Norman Janklow have been murdered. I believe Bradley died because he was forcing Albert Trent to leave the intelligence committee staff. Trent couldn’t do that, because if I’m right, Trent was using that position to pass secrets. DeHaven was killed either because he was involved in the reading room being used to convey these stolen secrets or he stumbled on the scheme and had to be silenced. That might be the same for Norman Janklow, or else he was also a spy like English. Behan was killed because he figured out that one of his companies’ equipment was used to murder DeHaven and would no doubt have investigated further. Trent had a mole at Fire Control who probably tipped him off about Behan’s suspicions, and he had to be eliminated.”
Caleb said, “But how could Jonathan, Jewell English or Norman Janklow become involved in a spy ring? Who would think to use the Rare Books reading room to communicate stolen secrets through coded letters in the first place?”
Stone said, “Well, because one wouldn’t logically think of it makes it a good plan. And remember, most spies are captured because they’re placed under surveillance for some reason, and then they’re observed making the drop of information, usually in a public place. Instead, we have coded letters in rare books. There’s no surveillance possible. Old people read old books and go home. No one would even consider them remotely suspicious.”
Caleb said, “But you still have to get the secrets Trent was presumably stealing to the library somehow. It wasn’t Albert Trent highlighting those letters in the books. And Jonathan couldn’t have done it in the Beadle we took from the library. He was dead by then.”
“Agreed. And that’s the part we still have to figure out. In fact, that’s the most important part, because it’s our main hope of solving this case. If Janklow, English or DeHaven were spies, there has to be some evidence of that.”
Milton said, “We’ve already searched DeHaven’s house and found nothing.”
“And I looked through Jewell’s,” Caleb said, “and only found a dead body.”
Stone nodded. “Perhaps Norman Janklow’s home may yield some results.”
Reuben interjected, “The only problem with that is the police will be crawling all over it now. Same with English’s place.”
Stone said, “Things are getting very dangerous now, and we all have to be extremely careful. I suggest that we double up from now on. Milton and Caleb, you two can stay at Milton’s house; it has a very good security system. Reuben, you and I can stay at your place, since certain people already know where I live.” He looked at Annabelle. “You can stay with us too.”
Reuben looked hopeful. “My shack’s not much to look at, but I’ve got plenty of beer, chips and a wide-screen plasma. And I do a mean chili. On the protection side, I’ve got one nasty pit bull named Delta Dawn, who’ll take a bite out of anyone I tell her to.”
“I think I’ll stick to my hotel. But I’ll watch out for myself, don’t worry.”
“Are you sure?” Stone said.
“I’m sure. But thanks for the offer. I’m really more of a loner, actually. That’s how I prefer it,” she added, averting her gaze from Stone.
As the meeting broke up, Stone stopped Annabelle on the way out.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine, why shouldn’t I be? Just another day in the life.”
“Almost being killed isn’t such a normal thing.”
“Maybe it is and maybe it isn’t.”
“Okay, are you game for another run at Albert Trent?” She hesitated. “I don’t mean breaking into his house again. I mean tailing him.”
“You think he’s still around?” she said.
Stone nodded. “They have no idea really what we know or don’t know. My guess is they’ll maintain the status quo until conditions dictate otherwise. If he skips town now, it’s all over. If this is a spy ring, they might want to see if things can be salvaged. These people have obviously worked hard to put it together.”
“These people don’t play around, do they?”
“Neither do I,” Stone replied.
Roger Seagraves was a very unhappy man. While Janklow had been sacrificed to muddy the waters and silence a potential witness, English was in a secure place far away from D.C. Yet because she’d allowed her glasses to be taken and their operation blown, Seagraves didn’t see her remaining alive for long. That was the good news. The bad news was Oliver Stone and the woman had escaped, costing him two men in the process. The Triple Six had somehow managed to beat the death chamber and smash their skulls in. That was impressive, especially for a guy who must be sixty by now. Seagraves chastised himself for not killing the man when he had the chance. He had cleaned up the bodies at Fire Control, but the police were all over Jewell English’s place. Fortunately, she had kept nothing incriminating at her home, and the same for Janklow. However, Seagraves’ perfect scheme was ruined.
Now he only had one goal. To go right to the source and end it once and for all.
From the small table next to him, he picked up Stone’s old shirt and the watch taken from Annabelle. Seagraves promised himself that these items would still become part of his collection.
CHAPTER 60
HE WOKE, STRETCHED, TURNED over and gazed out the window. The weather today was just like it had been yesterday. Sunny and beautiful with an ocean breeze apparently designed solely to inspire contentment in all it touched. He got up, wrapped a sheet around his waist and strolled to the window. Situated on several acres of land that included a sandy beach pounded by the ocean, the villa was his, at least for a year, the length of the lease, but he was thinking about buying it outright. The isolated estate boasted a saltwater infinity swimming pool, a wine cellar, a tennis court and a cabana with a daybed that was useful for more than drying out after a dip, for he seldom swam alone or with a bathing suit on. In the two-car garage sat a Maserati coupé and a Ducati for his driving pleasure. A cook, maid and gardener came with the place for less money than he’d paid in condo fees back in L.A. He drew a deep breath and knew he could spend the rest of his life here.
He hadn’t exactly followed Annabelle’s instructions about not flashing the cash, but this place had been immediately available for someone with the money. He’d actually seen the listing on the Internet before they’d done the scam but after Annabelle had told them they stood to make millions. It was never too early to plan for such a large purchase. And once he had leased the house, he had to have the toys that went with it. He wasn’t worried about Bagger finding him. The guy had never even seen him. And there were lots of rich, young people around this part of the world. He was cool. In fact, he was great.
Tony heard her coming up the stone stairs and retreated back to his bed, letting the sheet fall away. When she opened the door, he saw that she carried a tray with his breakfast only. It was funny; she’d slept with him after the second night but wouldn’t eat breakfast with him. It probably had to do with her being the maid.
“Dos huevos, jugo de naranja, tostada y café con leche,” she said. Her Spanish accent was pleasantly lyrical.
“And you.” He smiled, pulling her to him after she had set the tray down on the table next to the bed. She kissed him on the lips and let him slip off her strapless nightie, which was all she happened to be wearing. He traced the finely developed muscles in her long brown neck, stroked her large breasts, moved his hand down her flat belly and t
hen went lower still.
“Tu no tienes hambre?” she cooed, rubbing her bare leg against his and nuzzling his neck with her lips.
“Hambre for you,” he said, nibbling her ear.
He scooted around and let her fall back on the bed. He took one of her shapely legs in each of his arms and stood poised between her thighs. She licked her fingers and then squeezed her breasts.
“Damn, you drive me loco, Carmela!” he said.
She lunged forward, grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him down on her.
The door smashing back against the wall made the couple forget about screwing before breakfast.
Four big men came in, trailed by a smaller broad-shouldered fellow wearing a two-piece suit and open-collared shirt and sporting a devilish look of triumph.
Jerry Bagger said, “Hey, Tony, nice place you got here. I really like it. It’s amazing what you can buy with someone else’s money, ain’t it?”
He sat down on the bed as the terrified Carmela tried to cover herself with the sheet.
“Hey, honey, you don’t have to do that,” Bagger said. “You’re really pretty, how do you say, bonita! That’s right. Muy bonita, bitch.” He motioned to one of his men. This gent picked up Carmela, carried her over to the open window and tossed the lady out.
They all listened to one long scream and then a thud.