Damn.

Inside the room Lesya was speaking while Finn sat quietly in his chair.

“So now John Carr rises from the dead like the Phoenix,” she said in her tortured Cyrillic mishmash.

“It seems so,” Finn said. “But I can’t be sure.”

“And the senator still lives.”

“Not for long.”

“What about Carr?”

“I’m working on it. I told you that. But I have no idea where he is or even if he’s really alive. They just dug up his grave. That’s all anyone knows.”

She coughed hard. “Time grows short.”

For you or me? Finn wondered. He was still thinking about the encounter with his son. So close. Too close.

“But you will find out. I will help you find out.”

“Let me handle it.”

“I can tell you what I know about the man.”

“I know a lot about him already.” He paused. “I don’t think he’s like the others.”

She looked at him sharply. “What do you mean by that?”

“I think the Agency tried to kill him. I think they killed his wife. And perhaps his daughter. I believe he’s suffered a lot. And he was a war hero too.”

“He is just like the others. An evil man. A murderer!”

“Why, because he followed orders and killed my father and your husband?”

“You have no idea what you’re saying, Harry. No idea.”

“You know, I was just about to kill Simpson this morning, when David showed up. He almost caught me.”

“David your son?” Finn nodded and his mother clamped a hand to her mouth. “Good, God. Did he suspect?”

“No, but I promised myself that I would never let this part of my life impact on that part of my life. And now it has!”

Lesya sat down next to him, grasped his hand with her bony one. It felt slightly repulsive to him now.

“Harry, my son, my loving son, it will soon be over.”

“You can’t possibly know that. And it might end with me dead.”

She slowly withdrew her hand from his. “So what now?”

“Simpson and then Carr.”

“You will do this. You swear?”

Finn nodded.

His mother scrutinized him a bit longer and then shuffled over, opened her drawer and removed a photo. She handed it to him. “For Carr,” she said bitterly as she spat on the floor. Then she lay back on her bed. “Let me tell you a story, Harry.”

He sat back, but for the first time ever he wasn’t listening.

When the door to the room opened, they both turned to look.

“What do you want?” Lesya said angrily in English. “I have a visitor.”

When the man started speaking in Russian, the breath caught in her throat.

“Who are you?” Finn asked in English.

“They used to call me John Carr,” said Oliver Stone. He looked at Finn. “You’re right. I’m not like the others. And you both need to get out of here, just as fast as you can.”

CHAPTER 71

WHEN PADDY CALLED BACK, Bagger answered after the second ring.

“Yeah?” Bagger said.

“Have you had time to decide that I’m right?” Paddy began politely.

“Do you know how many times I’ve killed you in my mind since we talked?”

“It’s nice to be popular. But I need to hear your answer.”

“How do you want to do this?” Bagger said bluntly.

“We don’t do nothing until I hear from you what I need to hear.”

“Come over to my hotel and I’ll tell you in person. I know she’s in D.C., so you must be too.”

Paddy smiled and said, “What, after you’ve put a bullet in my brain? Don’t think so. Besides, I don’t go into the shitty parts of town, Jerry. You casino dicks always trend to the scum side.”

“Yeah? I make more money in one second than you’ve made in your whole life.”

“Money ain’t everything, Jerry. It can’t buy class. I don’t care if you’re staying at the bloody White House, though I doubt they’d let the likes of you in the door.”

“Well money is everything if you want a view of the White House like I got. That costs a grand a night.”

Paddy smiled and pointed at Annabelle, who gave him a thumbs-up sign.

“You going to give me your word or do I hang up? ’Cause once this line goes dead, I won’t be calling back.”

Bagger swore under his breath and then said very slowly, “If you get me Annabelle, I give you my word that I will never come after you again.”

“And that you and your people will never cause me any harm. And you give me your word.”

“Okay.”

“I need you to say it, Jerry.”

“Why?”

“Because I know once those words come off your tongue I’m really safe.”

“And that me and my people will never cause you any harm. I give you my word.” This last part was so painful for Bagger that he slammed his fist down on the table next to him.

“Thank you.”

“You still haven’t explained how I get her.”

“She’s going to walk right into your arms, Jerry. I’ll see to it.”

Paddy hung up and stared at Annabelle, a smile creeping across his face.

“Grand a night with nice views of the White House. Can’t be many of those.”

“Can’t be,” Annabelle agreed.

CHAPTER 72

“CAN YOU GET ME A LIST of the hotels in D.C. that have views of the White House and cost a grand a night?” Annabelle asked Alex as they sat in the same coffee shop as their previous meeting.

“Why?”

“It’s all part of those details I talked to you about.”

“I’ll get the list. You need any help?”

Annabelle started to say no and then stopped. “How good are you on your feet?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you quick on your feet?”

“I’m a Secret Service agent. That’s what we do.”

“Then you can help me.”

Later that day Annabelle walked into the second hotel from the list provided by Alex. She approached the front desk and discreetly flashed her phony FBI credentials to the clerk there.

“What is this about?” he said nervously.

“Potentially a big problem for your hotel, but we might be able to work around that if you cooperate. I’ve got a strike team standing by outside.”

The astonished clerk immediately looked over Annabelle’s shoulder.

“You can’t see them,” she said. “That would sort of give it away, wouldn’t it?”

“I think I should get my supervisor,” the clerk said nervously.

“No, I think you should stand right here and answer my questions, William,” she said quietly, eyeing his nametag.

“What sort of questions?”

“Do you have a guest staying here named Jerry Bagger?”

“I can’t possibly give out that sort of information. It’s confidential.”

“All right, I’ll guess we’ll have to do this the hard way.” Annabelle took a small walkie-talkie from her pocket that she’d purchased from a sporting goods store. “Bravo One to X-Ray strike team. Are you in position to crash all entry points? Affirmative. Squad leader, rules of engagement, no gunfire unless absolutely necessary. Repeat, unless absolutely necessary. There’s potential collateral damage throughout the lobby.”

“What is this, some sort of joke?” the clerk snapped.

On a cue from Annabelle, Alex, who’d been standing behind a pillar in the lobby, walked over. The tall agent looked down at the clerk.

He held out his Secret Service creds and showed the badge and gun on his belt. “Is there a problem?”

The clerk pointed at Annabelle. “She said she’s with the FBI and she’s looking for some guy and they’re going to send a strike something-or-other.”

Alex leaned down close in to the shorter man. “It’s not a strike something-or-other. It’s called a strike team. And I’m heading it up. We’re part of a joint antiterrorist unit. I’ve got twenty-five agents in heavy Kevlar body armor with MP-5 submachine guns ready to bust into this place because this ‘some guy’ is number two on our most wanted list right behind Osama. I’ve been after this ‘some guy’ for two years of my life, and I’m not about to let a little prick like you screw it up. So you either get on your computer and tell us if he’s here, or your ass will be the first one I arrest for obstruction.”