Hell's Corner

Hell's Corner by David Baldacci Page A

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Authors: David Baldacci
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a more secure place. These files are all classified.”
    Stone looked up from the stove and said cheerfully, “Not to worry, I don’t have any security clearances, so as soon as I look at them they’ll be immediately declassified.”
    “Bloody hell,” murmured Chapman.
    Teacups in hand, they sat at the desk and began to go over the documents and reports. Stone’s gaze flew swiftly over the papers and photos, his agile and experienced mind separating the important from the trivial.
    After he was finished Chapman said, “Would you like to see the full feed?”
    He nodded. “I’m wondering why I was shown the edited version at NIC.”
    “Don’t ask me. It’s your blokes’ doing, not mine.”
    “I’m also wondering if the edited version is the only one they have.”
    To this, Chapman simply stared stoically at the screen.
    They watched the feed. It was picture only, no audio. After the explosion happened, the feed went to static, but only for a second as though the detonation had momentarily disabled the electronic surveillance’s signals. When the video resumed, Stone saw the remainder of the feed. Flames and white smoke covered Jackson’sstatue, or where it used to be. The fence and cannons had also been flung away like feathers. It was a miracle no one had been killed. Luckily, at that time of night the park had been nearly deserted, and the security teams typically kept to the perimeter of the park.
    Stone saw himself lying on the ground unconscious while the British agent slowly rose and staggered away.
    “Your man looks all right. Except for his tooth.”
    “He’s a tough chap, but he did say colliding with you was like hitting a brick wall.”
    Stone continued to focus on the feed. The suit and woman were no longer visible. He saw people running; the security bollards on Pennsylvania retracted into the street and police cars and Secret Service vans raced away. Blair House was quickly sealed off.
    “Can you show me the last thirty seconds again?”
    She hit a couple of keystrokes and Stone watched the explosion happen again. He sat back puzzled.
    “What’s the problem?” said Chapman as she stopped the video.
    “Can you slow it down even more?”
    “I’ll try.” She worked some keystrokes. “This is the best I can do, I’m afraid.”
    They watched it again with everything in ultraslow motion.
    Stone followed the path of the jogger as he passed by a pair of uniformed Secret Service officers and a canine before entering the park.
    “Fat chap to be in trainers,” noted Chapman. “Doesn’t look like a runner, does he?”
    “People who wear jogging suits aren’t always runners. He might have just been out for a walk.”
    “If you say so.”
    “Bomb could have been on that iPod.”
    Chapman nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. C-4 or Semtex. Or something even more powerful. If so, there will be evidence of that in the debris field.”
    “Yes and no. Yes, the iPod will be blown apart, but it would be regardless of whether it was part of an explosive device or not.”
    “But they’ll be able to tell,” said Chapman. “From scorching marks, from the deformity angles of the parts, outward as opposed to inward, and so on.”
    Stone turned to her. “You know about explosives?”
    “Another reason they sent for me. I spent three years chasing some nasty Irishmen who didn’t believe the IRA had actually signed a peace treaty. They liked to make things go boom. Learned a lot.”
    “I’m sure.” Stone looked back at the screen. “He dove into the planting hole.”
    “And the explosion happened a few seconds later. Maybe a suicide bomber, then.”
    Stone looked skeptical. “Who kills only himself by diving in a hole?”
    “So what do you think the lay of the land is, then?”
    He looked at her curiously. “Lay of what land?”
    “Your land of too many bloody American agencies. I’ve only been on this case less than a day and already I feel claustrophobic.”
    “Ever heard of

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