“Since this morning, why?”
“When you left your house, did you notice anyone around?”
“No.”
“Don’t go back home. I want you to meet me somewhere else.” Stone thought quickly. “Union Station. Can you be there in the next half hour or so?”
“I think so.”
“I’ll be standing by the bookstore. Were you able to run the car tag down?”
“That was no problem. I have his name and address. It’s—”
“Tell me in person. And, Milton, I want you to listen very carefully. You need to make sure that no one is following you.”
“What did you find out?” Milton asked nervously.
“I’ll tell you when I see you. Oh, one more thing. Could you see what you can find on a Jackie Simpson, Senator Simpson’s daughter? She’s a Secret Service agent.”
Stone clicked off and then called both Reuben and Caleb and updated them. After that, he set off for the nearest Metro station and a little while later stood at the entrance to the B. Dalton bookstore that occupied a large chunk of massive Union Station. While browsing through some books, Stone periodically checked the subway exit, where he assumed Milton would be coming out.
When Milton arrived from a different part of the train station, Stone looked at him questioningly.
“Chastity drove me,” he explained. “What happened to your face?”
“It’s not important. Is Chastity here?”
“No, I told her to go back home.”
“Milton, are you absolutely certain you weren’t followed?”
“Not with the way Chastity drives.”
Stone led him over to a bagel shop located across from the bookstore. They bought coffees and then settled down at a table in the far corner.
Milton took out his cell phone and hit a button.
“Who are you calling?” Stone asked.
“No one. My cell phone has a recorder built in. I just remembered that I have to call Chastity later about something, and I’m leaving myself a reminder. The phone I gave you has the same capability. And it’s also a camera.” Milton spoke into the recorder and then put his phone away.
“What’s the man’s name?” Stone asked.
“Tyler Reinke. He lives out near Purcellville. I have the street address.”
“I know the area. Did you find out where he works?”
“I checked everywhere I could get into, and I can get into quite a few places. But I didn’t find anything on him.”
“That might mean he does work at NIC. I don’t think even you could hack them.”
“It’s possible.”
“Did you find anything on Jackie Simpson?”
“Quite a bit. I printed it out for you.” He slid a folder over to Stone.
He opened it and gazed at a laser printer picture of the woman. Alex had been right, thought Stone; the attitude was evident on her features. Her home address was in the file too. It was close to WFO. Stone wondered if she walked to work. He closed the file, put it away in his knapsack and told Milton about NIC having the suicide note and the possibility of his prints being on it.
Milton let out a deep breath. “I knew I shouldn’t have touched that paper.”
“Would you still be on the NIH database?”
“Probably. And the Secret Service printed me when I sent that stupid letter to Ronald Reagan. I was just so upset with all his budget cuts on mental health.”
Stone hunched forward. “I wanted to have a meeting tonight at Caleb’s condo to go over things, but now I’m not sure if that’s safe.”
“So where do we meet, then?”
Just then Stone’s cell phone rang. It was Reuben and he was excited.
He said, “I met an old buddy of mine for a beer. We fought together in Nam, and we joined Defense Intelligence at the same time. I heard he’d just retired from DIA, so I thought I’d have a drink with him and see if he’d open up a little about things. Well, he told me NIC had pissed everybody off by demanding that all terrorist files be turned over to NIC. Even the CIA’s files were purged. Gray knew that if he controlled the flow of information, then he controlled everything else too.”
“So all other intelligence agencies have to go to NIC for that information?”
“Yep. And that way NIC knows what everyone else is working on.”
“But by law, NIC oversees all that anyway, Reuben.”
“Hell, who cares what the law says? Do you really think the CIA’s going to be absolutely truthful about what it’s doing, Oliver?”
“No,” Stone admitted. “Telling the truth would be counterintuitive for it as well as having no historical basis. Spies always lie.”
“Is the meeting tonight still at Caleb’s?” Reuben asked.
“I’m not sure that Caleb’s . . .” Stone’s voice trailed off. “Caleb?” he said slowly.
“Oliver?” Reuben said. “Are you still there?”
“Oliver? Are you all right?” Milton asked in a worried tone.
Stone spoke quickly. “Reuben, where are you?”
“At the disgusting shack I call my castle. Why?”
“Can you pick me up at Union Station and take me to my storage place?”
“Sure, but you didn’t answer me. Is the meeting still at Caleb’s?”
“No, I think instead . . .” Stone looked around. “We’ll meet here at Union Station.”
“Union Station,” Reuben repeated. “That’s not exactly private, Oliver.”
“I didn’t say we were holding our meeting here.”
“You’re not making much sense,” Reuben said grumpily.
“I’ll explain it all later. Just get here as quickly as you can. I’ll be waiting out front.” Stone clicked off and looked at Milton.
Milton said, “What are you going to your other place for?”
“There’s something I need from there. Something that might finally make sense out of all this.”