"I can understand that."

"You can, huh?"

"The past is hard to let go of, particularly when the future is a little uncertain."

"You're wasting your talents mucking stalls, Ben. You ought to be a philosophy teacher."

"I was just heading back to town."

"I need to pay you. Why don't you ride with me back to the house? You can get some supper and your money."

"You don't have to do that."

"I know I don't." Her tone did not seem to invite dissent.

A few minutes later they pulled into the driveway.

"Beautiful house."

"Came at a damn steep price."

"Danny told me a little about that."

"Expect you want to take a shower and change your clothes. Mucking stalls isn't the cleanest job in the world."

"Thanks. I'm sorry about your husband."

"Uh-huh," she said.

She slammed the truck door behind her and headed up the steps.

Stone slowly got out and trudged after her.

He could have landed in any town in the country. And it had to be Divine, Virginia.

Damn, I can really pick 'em.

KNOX COLLARED Annabelle Conroy as she was leaving her hotel. He flashed his creds and asked her to go with him.

"I don't think so," she said.

"Excuse me?"

"Those creds could be faked and you could be a rapist. Go call a cop and I'll go with both of you if he's satisfied you are who you say you are. But until then, get the hell away from me."

"How about a cup of coffee in the restaurant over there? If I put my hand up your skirt, you can start screaming and kick me in the balls."

"Just so you know, I kick really hard."

"I have no doubt."

"Will this take long? I'm sort of busy."

"As long or as short as you want to make it."

Over two cups of strong coffee Knox explained what he wanted.

"I don't know where Oliver is," she said truthfully. "We became friends, and I stayed at his cottage, but now he's gone and he didn't tell anybody where he was going."

"How did you become friends and why were you staying at his cottage?"

"Simple enough. He helped me with a problem I had and after he left I wanted to keep his home going for him in case he came back."

"So your problem was with Jerry Bagger, now deceased?"

"I see you do your homework."

"Wasn't that hard actually. What exactly was your beef with Bagger, Ms. Hunter?" Knox didn't believe for a moment that that was her name but he was willing to play along, for now.

"What's it to you?"

"Humor me."

"Why the hell should I?"

He pointed to the cup she was holding. "How about I take the prints off that and run them through a database. Would I pull up the name Susan Hunter?"

"There's no law against changing your name."

"Right, but the reason for changing your name, now that might be illegal."

"Bagger hurt someone I cared about and I wanted to nail him for it and I did."

"With Alex Ford and Oliver Stone's help?"

"Yeah. Bagger was a crook and a sociopath. The FBI and Justice Department had been after him for a long time. He got what he deserved. So what's wrong with that?"

"I don't really give a crap about Jerry Bagger. I want Oliver Stone. Or John Carr. I don't know which name you refer to him as."

"I only know him as Oliver Stone. I have no idea who John Carr is."

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"About six months ago."

"You heard about Carter Gray's and Senator Simpson's murders?"

"I watch the news."

"Stone had a relationship with Gray."

"Didn't know that."

"Alex Ford never bothered to tell you? Because he knew all about it."

"We're just friends, and friends don't share everything."

"Why'd you leave the cottage?"

"Got tired of living with dead people."

"You wouldn't have happened to have heard from Stone? Maybe he told you to take it underground?"

"Why would he do that?"

"You tell me."

"How can I tell you about something that didn't happen?"

"I think your buddy's on the run."

"From what?"

Knox stood. "Okay, my BS alarm is clanging so hard it's hurting my ears. So like I told your friend, Ford, I'll be in touch. And don't try to leave the city. That would not make me happy." He walked off.

MACKLIN HAYES did not seem particularly pleased. He and Knox were sitting in front of a fire in the library of a luxurious late-nineteenth-century brownstone in the heart of D.C. that Hayes had access to 24/7. Spy kings, it seemed, had gold-plated perks.

"So you've run around interviewing all the usual suspects today and have no progress to show for it."

"I'm not just going through the motions, General. I did my little dog-and-pony show with all of them except for the Reuben Rhodes character, and I'll catch up to him at some point. They're all lying. They all know more than they'll admit. That's progress right there as far as I'm concerned. At some point they'll make a slip and then we move in."

"I seriously doubt the man left them a copy of his travel itinerary."

"I doubt that too, but Carr is a loyal guy. If we can nail his friends on something, put them at risk for prison time, then that may flush him out."

"Meaning he'll come running back here to save his friends? You really believe that will happen, Knox?"

"I've studied the man, gone over his career, talked to his friends. Yeah, I think that might happen. And what's the downside if it doesn't work?"

Hayes finished off his glass of wine and stared into the fire. "Let me speak frankly, Knox. Hopefully it will be instructive and won't bore you too much."

"I doubt anything you have to say would bore me, sir. And you know I'm a sucker for truthful information."

Hayes ignored the barb. "Carr is a killer, clearly. He was at the Capitol Visitor Center that night. We know he murdered Gray and Simpson. That part is simple, the rest is not."

"And do I finally get to hear the rest?"

Hayes rose and poured himself another glass, this time of scotch, and sipped it while standing in front of the fire. Gazing at this tall patrician figure dressed in a three-piece suit with his beautiful snowy hair, square jaw and twinkling eyes and holding his cut-crystal snifter made Knox fantasize he was in a Hollywood spy film.

Let's see, how does that story go again? Oh, yeah, bright, refined, patriotic people recruited from Ivy League schools doing their noble best to keep their country safe while nattily attired in their Brooks Brothers suits, bedding all the beautiful women, sucking thoughtfully on their sweet-smelling pipes and remaining high above the riff and the raff. Like me. And John Carr. The riff and the raff.

Knox had quickly found that that notion was indeed a fantasy. Intelligence was a nasty, dirty business and necessitated each side to get as filthy as the other. The only rule was there never had been any rules at all. No, actually he was wrong. There was one rule. People like Macklin Hayes did remain above it all. Untouchable. And yet that rule was not absolute. Look at Carter Gray. John Carr had pulled him right down into the trench shit with him.

You go, John.

Hayes said, "Unfortunately, Carr is also probably in possession of certain information, perhaps even proofs of actions taken by this country at sensitive times, that might, in unforgiving hindsight, mind you, place us in an awkward situation. I'm sure Gray was aware of that as well. I believe he attempted to get to Carr, but as we know, Carr got him first."

"So in other words he has the goods on us so this is not a case for the law courts?"

Hayes smiled. "I've always loved your perspicacity, Knox. Saves so much time."