"That's right. I was involved in that at the end. But he deserves the credit."

"And he used to have a tent in Lafayette Park. A White House protestor. And he was caretaker at a cemetery. And he helps break up spy rings. Interesting career choices."

"He's an interesting guy."

"What else can you tell me about this interesting guy? Like his connection to Carter Gray?"

"Carter Gray?" Alex did his best to appear baffled even as the sweat gathered under his armpits. By lying to a federal officer he'd already committed several felonies. He was digging his professional grave deeper with each word.

"Yeah. Carter Gray. Stone went to see him on the night his house was blown up. You came out the next day with him to the crime scene. I've talked to the FBI agents who were out there with both of you."

"Right, right. Well, I knew that Oliver had gone to see Gray because he told me he had. I don't know why. He asked me to come with him to meet the FBI agents. So I did. As far as I know that's where it was left."

"How'd you two meet?"

"Anybody who's pulled White House Protection Detail knows about Oliver Stone. He was a fixture in Lafayette Park for a long time."

"You happen to know his real name, or is the famous film director moonlighting?"

"I don't know his real name."

"I thought Secret Service agents were more inquisitive than that. Guy was right across from the White House and you don't even know his real name?"

"It's a free country. He never did anything threatening. Just exercising his right to protest. We just thought he was an eccentric."

"So the name John Carr ring any bells?"

Alex had been expecting that follow-up question. "No, but it sounds familiar for some reason."

"It was the name of a soldier whose grave was dug up at Arlington Cemetery. On Gray's orders."

"That's right. I read about it in the papers. I wonder what the hell that was about?"

Knox just stared at him.

Finally Alex broke the silence. "I don't know what to tell you, Agent Knox."

"The truth would be helpful."

The migraine started in the center of Alex's forehead. "I'm telling you the truth."

Knox looked down and shook his head slowly. When he glanced back up his features were sad. "You aiming to scuttle your career over this guy, Ford?"

"I know him as Oliver Stone. That's it."

"You know his buddies. Reuben Rhodes and Caleb Shaw?"

"Yes. They're my friends too."

"And one recently died." Knox looked at a little notebook he held. "Milton Farb. Killed in his house over six months ago."

"That's right. We were all really upset about that."

"I'm sure. Police never solved the crime?"

"That's right, they didn't."

"And you were also working with the feds on nailing the casino king Jerry Bagger. Only he ended up blown to pieces in the Potomac River."

"I almost ended up there myself."

"You're a busy man. And your friend too, what did you call her, Susan Hunter?"

"I called her that because it's her name. And that's right, she was there too."

"And how did you get involved with a guy like Bagger? Through the lady?"

"It's pretty complicated and I'm not at liberty to divulge what happened. But the FBI can probably fill you in. And really I was just helping out a friend again."

"Man, you got lots of friends."

"Better than lots of enemies," Alex shot back.

"Oh, I think you got a few of those too." Knox rose and handed Alex a card. "You think about any more bullshit you want to tell me, give me a buzz. Meantime, I'll check everything you just told me out seven ways from Sunday. And just to show my good faith, I'll give you a two-minute heads-up before they serve you with the arrest warrant for obstruction of justice. How's that sound, Ford? You have a good one now." Knox walked off.

Alex just sat there on the bench because his legs, at that moment, didn't have the strength to support his body.

Thanks, Oliver, Thanks a lot.

KNOX'S NEXT STOP was the Library of Congress' Rare Book Reading Room where he found Caleb Shaw placing some priceless tomes on a rolling cart. Five minutes later they were sitting in the same small room where Caleb had been interrogated by casino owner Jerry Bagger. On seeing Knox's credentials Caleb said coolly, "And you want to see me about what?"

"Your friend, Oliver Stone?"

"You call him a friend. I call him an acquaintance."

"That's just semantics."

"I'm a librarian. Semantics are my life. Besides, I haven't seen him in a long time. I'm afraid I don't know anything that could help you."

"Well, sometimes people know more than they think."

"If I knew more than I thought, then I'd know it."

His patience clearly exhausted, Knox said, "Okay, let's cut to the chase, Shaw. I don't have all day to pull this story together so just answer my questions. Who is Oliver Stone really? And where is he now?"

"Oliver is Oliver. He used to have a tent in Lafayette Park. He's the caretaker at Mt. Zion Cemetery. But I don't know where he is. I haven't seen him for over six months. You can water-dunk me and I'd tell you the same thing."

"You mean waterboarding, and we don't do that to people," Knox said firmly. "Because that constitutes torture."

"Oh, really?" Caleb replied with both eyebrows tilted to the ceiling. "Then you might want to let your friends in the government know. There seems to be some confusion on that particular topic."

Ignoring this, Knox said, "Does the name John Carr mean anything to you?"

"Yes, it absolutely does."

Knox perked up. "Tell me about him."

"John Dickson Carr is a very famous mystery writer. Well, he's dead now, but I can recommend several of his works to you. Good stuff."

"I'm talking about John Carr the soldier, not the writer," Knox snapped.

"I don't know anyone by that name. There is of course John le Carré, but he's also a writer, though he did work in British intelligence at one point. And le Carré is only a nom de plume. His real name is David Cornwell. I could recommend some of his works as well."

Knox ground his teeth together and reminded himself that beating to death a public servant was not in the best interests of either his investigation or a future peaceful retirement. "This soldier was an American. Very distinguished record in Nam. He died. He was buried. This was over thirty years ago. Then they dug up his grave at Arlington and there was no body in it."

"Good Lord! I don't like to disparage my employer, but the federal government really has become so sloppy recently. But to lose an entire body? That really is outrageous."

Knox stared at him for a moment, then said, "Maybe the body was never in the grave, Shaw. How does that theory grab you?"

"Interesting, but what does that have to do with me?"

"Maybe John Carr and Oliver Stone are one and the same?"

"Well, I don't really see how that could be. But then again, Oliver never talked about his past and I respected his privacy. He's a good man, though, one of the most loyal friends anyone could ask for."

"You sound pretty sure for him just being an acquaintance."

"I'm a quick and accurate judge of people."

"How about your buddy, Milton Farb? Was Stone loyal to him?"

" Milton 's dead," Caleb said firmly.

"I know. I'd like to know how he died."

"He was murdered."

"I know that too. Any idea who might've killed him?"

"If I did, the police would know, I can assure you."

"He dies and your buddy Oliver disappears?"

"If you're thinking that Oliver had anything to do with it, you're sadly mistaken. He loved Milton like a brother."

"Right. Anything else you can tell me?"