Annabelle looked uncertain. “You don’t know Jerry. He has forty million reasons to devote every second of the remainder of his life to killing me.”

Stone nodded knowingly. “I do know Jerry, at least men like him. It’s not just about the money, of course. It’s about loss of face, of respect. He has to seem invincible to everyone. Otherwise he’s not Jerry Bagger.”

“You sized him up right away.”

“As I said, I’ve known many men like Bagger, even worked for some.”

She said cautiously, “So if we were going to go after Jerry how would we do it?”

“We have to find where he’s vulnerable. There’s the point of least resistance, of course. He killed three people in Portugal and put a fourth in a coma. If we can pin that on him he goes away forever.”

“I know he did it, but I have no proof. And if I go to the cops, I’ll have to explain everything, and then I don’t think they’ll be waiting to hand me a medal.”

“Or you could give your share of the money back to Bagger and hope that’s enough.”

“I earned that money, every last cent of it. And like you said, it’s not about the money. He’d still want to kill me.”

“But if we can tie Bagger to these crimes without you having to give testimony or being involved at all?”

“Well, that would just solve all my problems, wouldn’t it? Only I don’t quite see how that can work.”

“That’s for us to figure out.” Stone was about to say something else when his cell phone rang. It was Alex Ford and his voice was strained.

“Oliver, did you see Carter Gray last night?”

“Yes, I did.”

“What time did you get there and what time did you leave?”

Stone told him. “I’m sure the driver can verify that. What’s this all about?”

“I can’t believe you haven’t heard.”

“Heard what?”

“Somebody blew up Carter Gray’s house last night, with him in it. I know this is going to be awkward, but I think the FBI will want to talk to you about your meeting with Gray.”

Stone clicked off. The FBI will want to talk to me. About Gray.

Annabelle said sharply, “Trouble?”

“A little,” he said slowly as his thoughts raced ahead. “Maybe more than a little, actually.”

She tapped her coffee cup against his. “Welcome to the club.”

CHAPTER 16

OLIVER STONE STARED at the wall opposite him while the two thirty-something men in shirtsleeves with their guns and badges hanging on their black belts hovered around like vultures over roadkill. His voluntary appearance at the FBI’s Washington Field Office had not earned him any brownie points, even with Alex Ford of the Secret Service accompanying him to the interview. Alex had told the agents in charge of Carter Gray’s homicide investigation about Stone’s recent heroics in foiling an espionage ring. However, the agents had brushed that off.

One of them said to Alex, “I deal with murder and I got a big one hanging around my neck and a lot of pressure from upstairs to get results.” He plopped down in front of Stone at the small table.

“Now let’s try the name thing one more time. What’s yours?”

“Oliver Stone, like I told you the last four times you asked.”

“Let me see some ID.”

“And as I told you four times before, I don’t have any.”

The other agent said incredulously, “How does anybody in the twenty-first century not have ID?”

Stone looked at him, bemused. “I know who I am. And I don’t really care if no one else does.”

“So you came all the way down here to tell us what-nothing other than the fact that you’re apparently a famous film director who dresses like a bum?”

“Actually, I came down here to tell you that I visited Carter Gray at his home last night at his request. I arrived around nine and left about forty-five minutes later. He sent his driver for me. The man can certainly vouch for the fact that when I left, the house was still standing and the man inside that house was still alive.”

Alex interjected, “Have you talked to the driver?”

The two agents glanced at each other. One said to Stone, “What’d you two talk about?”

“It was private. I’m certain it had nothing to do with what happened to Mr. Gray.” Stone of course had every reason to believe that what Gray had told him about the other three men dying was very much tied to Gray’s death.

“I sense uncooperative behavior,” the same agent said.

His partner added, “And I sense an obstruction charge coming. You like to sit in a jail cell, Mr. Stone, while we run down who you really are?”

Stone said calmly, “If you believe you have enough to charge me then charge me. If you don’t I’m late for another appointment.”

“You’re a busy man are you, Mr. Stone?” one of the agents remarked sarcastically.

“I try to stay productive. But I’ll make a deal with you.”

“We don’t do deals.”

“I’ll go with you to the crime scene. If I see anything that strikes me funny, I’ll let you know.”

“Strikes you funny? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” the first agent said.

“Just what it sounds like.”

“No way in hell are we taking you to the crime scene.”

“If you killed the guy you might be looking to screw up some evidence,” the other agent said.

Stone sighed. “Call the director of the FBI, please.”

“Excuse me?” one agent snapped, looking incredulously at him.

“Call the head of the FBI. He sent me a commendation letter recently. By coincidence I brought a copy of it with me. I called his office before coming down here. I told him if I had any trouble, I’d give him a call.”

Stone handed the letter across to the agent. With his partner looking over his shoulder they read it word for word, then glanced at Alex, who merely shrugged.

Stone said, “Do you call or do we choose not to bother the director and just go to the crime scene? I don’t have all day.”

“No reason to bother the director,” one of the agents said finally.

Stone rose. “Delighted to hear it.”

CHAPTER 17

STONE WALKED NEAR the wreckage of Carter Gray’s house with one of the FBI agents and Alex Ford.

“Gas explosion?” Alex asked the agent.

“That’s what it looks like, although I’m not sure how it was possible. The place wasn’t that old. And it had all the latest safety features.”

Stone was staring at what was left of the house he’d been sitting in only last night. “Where was his body found?”

“Sorry, can’t say. The remains of a body were found in the bedroom.”

“Positive ID?”

“Suffice it to say that we consider this a homicide investigation regarding the owner of the property.”

“Did you find the driver to confirm Oliver’s story?”

The agent shook his head. “The man’s gone missing. He was with the CIA. Not sure what the story was there. Of course, that means we just have your word for it that he drove you home,” he added, eyeballing Stone.

“If I were going to blow up the man I wouldn’t have told anyone I was meeting with him, especially a United States Secret Service agent. And I certainly wouldn’t have done the deed on the very night I did meet with him.”

“The fact that the house blew up right after he met with you is the reason you’re a suspect,” the agent countered.

“And it’s also the reason I’m out here,” Stone said. “Because the faster you find the real killer, the sooner I’m off that list.”

“Anyone else around?” Alex asked.

The agent nodded, his gaze still on Stone. “A guard. He came out of the guesthouse over there and got hit by some debris and was actually on fire. He says he remembers somebody knocking him down and putting out the flames. He passed out and the next thing he remembers is being put in the back of an ambulance. He’s in the burn unit at a hospital in Annapolis. He’ll be okay.”