Hell's Corner by David Baldacci Read Free Book Online Page A

few burned-out computers and two high-level authorizations before the hit came back.” She hiked her eyebrows. “John Carr. Of the CIA’s late and lamented Triple Six Division.”
    “Which officially never existed,” he said quietly.
    “No matter to me. I was just a nipper when it pulled its last trigger, official or not.” She stood. “Ready to go see the man whose life you saved? He really does want to buy you that pint, Mr. Carr .”

CHAPTER 11

    J AMES M C E LROY WAS SITTING in his suite at the Willard Hotel when Stone and Chapman were ushered in. The Brit spymaster was now seventy-four years old, gray and bowed. His substantial belly poked through the front of his jacket. When he rose from the chair, his arthritic knees quivered a bit, yet the man’s roaming and intelligent eyes clearly showed that while age had decimated him physically, his mental agility remained completely intact. Though he was once over six-two, gravity and infirmity had shaved a couple of inches from his frame. His hair was thinning and slicked back, revealing lines of pink flesh underneath. Flecks of dandruff clung to the shoulders of his blue jacket.
    When he saw Stone, his eyes lit up. “You haven’t changed a jot,” said McElroy. “Except your hair is white.” He lightly smacked Stone’s flat, hard belly before extending his hand and then gripping Stone in a bear hug. “And I’m fat and you’re not.”
    When they separated, McElroy waved them both into chairs. “How the hell have you been, John?”
    “I’ve been ,” said Stone simply.
    The Brit nodded in understanding, his expression growing somber. “Yes, I actually have some knowledge of what you mean by that. Events became particularly trying for you.”
    “One way to describe it.”
    McElroy’s eyes narrowed. “I heard about… you know. And I’m sorry.”
    “More than I got from my own side. But thank you.”
    Chapman looked at Stone and McElroy and said, “Care to share, sir?”
    “No,” said Stone. “He wouldn’t.”
    McElroy didn’t take his gaze off Stone but said to her, “John and I are of a generation that will carry our professional secrets to the grave. Understood?”
    “Yes sir,” she replied quickly.
    “John, will you join me for a drink?”
    “Little early for me.”
    “But it’s already quite late in London, so let’s pretend, shall we? Special occasion and all? Two old friends.”
    An attendant brought drinks for all three. Stone had a beer, Chapman a Beefeater martini and McElroy a slender finger of scotch. He looked at Stone over the rim of his glass. “Gallstones. Bloody things driving me mad. But it’s said a small measure of good scotch can kill them dead. At least I believe I heard that somewhere. In this case a rumor will suffice.” He lifted his glass. “Cheers.”
    They all drank and McElroy dabbed his mouth with his pocket kerchief.
    “The PM?” prompted Stone, and Chapman drew a little straighter in her chair as she bit into a fat olive from her drink.
    McElroy looked pained, rubbed his side and nodded in a perfunctory manner. “Yes, the PM. Solid chap. I actually voted for him. Between you and me he’s a bit dodgy on some things, but what politician isn’t?”
    “Dodgy enough to be blown up?” asked Stone.
    “Don’t think so, no. Not homegrown, in other words.”
    “Lot of enemies out there.” Stone glanced at Chapman. “Our closest ally. It’s put a bull’s-eye on your little island.”
    “Quite so, yes. But we soldier on, don’t we?”
    “Who knew he’d be walking across the park?”
    “Limited circle,” answered Chapman as McElroy continued to rub his side while finishing his scotch. “They’re all being checked out as we speak.”
    McElroy looked uninterested in this detail, and Stone was quick to pick up on that. “Another theory?”
    McElroy sniffed. “I’m not sure it actually rises to the level of a theory just yet, John.”
    “I go by Oliver now.”
    He looked chagrined. “Of course