Divine Justice

'What about you?'

'Flop here for one night. Wait for the next train south. Tired of the cold.' Just tired.

The men started walking down the street.

'I wasn't cheating at cards.'

'I believe you.'

'How come?'

'You don't seem dumb enough to cheat when it's three against one. How you getting to Divine? The train go there?'

Danny laughed. 'Hell, nothing goes to Divine. Bus goes near it. Walk or thumb it from there. Won't be the first time for me.'

Stone's gaze caught on a black sedan that pulled slowly down the street. It stopped next to a police car and the driver of the sedan rolled down his window and started talking to the cop. Stone's eyes dropped to the white government plate on the sedan.

Bureau car? Here? Did the train conductor suspect something and make a call?

Stone turned to face Danny. 'Divine a pretty isolated place?'

Danny's gaze drifted to the twin cars and then back to Stone. He'd clearly noted Stone's reaction to the police car. 'Isolated? Let me put it like this. Divine's the sort of place you got to really want to get to if you want to find it. Although why anyone would beats me. And once you do find it then the only thing you want to do is get the hell out of there.'

'Sounds good.'

'What?'

'Let's go.'

'You're kidding, right? I'm telling you, man, it's hell.'

'I don't think so, Danny.'

'What makes you a damn expert?'

Because I've actually seen hell. And it wasn't in Virginia .

CHAPTER 9

JOE KNOX CLIMBED IN his Range Rover and drove slowly home, deep in thought. He'd gone over every scrap of paper in that box and each held a startling revelation. Yet while the sum total of information was considerable, the investigative leads flowing from this intelligence were negligible. The CIA was exemplary in covering its tracks, and the Agency had outdone itself here. However, Knox had been able to piece a few things together.

The reason that Gray's home had been blown up six months ago seemed tied to an unauthorized CIA operation targeting the Soviets back in the 1980s. Exact details were not available and probably never would be. The connection in between was anything but clear. No names were available. One page in the box had stunned even the veteran Knox. There apparently had been a gun battle at the unfinished Capitol Visitor Center around the same time that Carter Gray's home had been destroyed. An unknown number of CIA paramilitary personnel had been killed, the real circumstances of their deaths hidden from public view by the Agency's very efficient disinformation machine. It seemed that Gray, then technically out of government, had been behind this mission. Who had killed the agents and why they were there in the first place remained a mystery.

A shoot-out in the middle of the Capitol? Gray must've been insane.

There was an indication in the file that Gray had met with the current CIA director, a man Knox considered a useless political appointee who had started at the Agency but had been brain-drained by his later years in the Congress. Whether Knox could get in to see the man was not a given. As Macklin Hayes had made clear, there was a difference of opinion at the Agency as to how this matter should proceed. Or not proceed.

Gray had also been given a secret audience with the president at Camp David. Knox suspected this piece of information was one of the ones Macklin Hayes had gotten hold of that he wasn't supposed to know about. Knox realized that the odds of his interrogating the president of the United States about this meeting were about the same as his spontaneously combusting while in the shower.

One of the most interesting pieces of information he'd gleaned from the file had to do with the now defunct Triple Six Division of the CIA, or its 'political destabilization' arm as it unofficially had been known to the CIA rank and file. The less polite term of course was 'government assassin.' Triple Six was one of the CIA's most closely guarded secrets. Officially the CIA did not kill, torture or falsely imprison. Or, for that matter lie, cheat or steal. Unfortunately, the media had made some inroads into the Agency's past, resulting in some embarrassing revelations. Officially, Knox had followed the company line and been upset that the press had ferreted out some of this skullduggery. Personally, he'd never had much use for that side of the Agency. While it was true that the United States was better off with certain people dead, Knox had felt the CIA's best use of resources was in intelligence gathering, not authorized murder or stringing people up by their toes or making them believe they were drowning to induce them to talk. His experience had been that tortured people would tell you anything to make the pain stop. There were far more effective ways to get to the truth.

Gray had apparently concluded that several retired Triple Six assassins had been murdered. Whether these deaths were tied to the unauthorized mission in the former Soviet Union he had no way of knowing. According to one of Gray's bodyguards, the former intelligence head had met with a man at Gray's home on the very night it had been blown up. That man worked in a cemetery in Washington, D.C., and had been questioned by the FBI in connection with Gray's believed murder. And it was this man-the one Macklin Hayes had alluded to-who had suggested the bomber of Gray's home might've jumped off the cliff into the Chesapeake Bay.

Knox smiled grimly as he thought of the name the man had given the FBI agents.

Oliver Stone.

Was he a lunatic or something else? Since Carter Gray was not known to summon mentally unstable people to his home, Knox opted for the latter. Oliver Stone had been accompanied by a Secret Service agent when he'd visited Gray's demolished house. That too was interesting. He would have to get acquainted with Agent Alex Ford.

The last bit of interesting information had to do with a recent disinterment at Arlington National Cemetery. The grave of a man named John Carr had been dug up on orders from Gray. The coffin had been taken to CIA headquarters. Knox did not know the results of that action or actually who had ended up being in the coffin. He had seen some of Carr's confidential military record, and it was an exemplary one. Yet then the man had simply disappeared.

Knox's instincts told him that a man like Carr, with proven killing skills, would've made a productive member of Triple Six. Many of their members had come from the military. And right around the time Carr had vanished from public record was when Triple Six had been at the height of its activity. That had raised more questions than answers.

He reached his house and pulled into the garage. A moment later his daughter, Melanie, opened the door to the kitchen. She'd earlier phoned him to say she was coming over to take him to dinner. After he'd gotten the summons from Macklin Hayes he'd called her back saying he couldn't make it, so he was surprised to see her.

The aroma of a cooked meal reached him from the kitchen. She gave him a hug and ushered him in, taking off his coat and hanging it up.

He said, 'I didn't think busy lawyers in private practice had time to cook for themselves, much less anybody else.'

'Reserve your judgment until after you've eaten it. I don't watch the Food Network and I don't hold myself out as any sort of cook. But the intent was honorable.'

Melanie had taken more after Knox's deceased wife, Patty, than she had her father. She was tall and lithe with reddish hair that she usually wore pulled back. She was a graduate of UVA Law School and a rapidly rising young star at a D.C. powerhouse legal firm. The older of his two children-his son, Kenny, was currently in Iraq with his