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in his fifties, of medium height and a bit pudgy, with not a trace of athleticism or personal courage, was not amused by this comment.
    “You said it
is
more money,” Stone reminded him. “In fact a good deal more.”
    “Yes, but if that only means I can afford a much nicer funeral, I’m not sure I’m interested.”
    Reuben added gruffly, “But when you die, you die knowing that you have more to leave to your friends. Now if that’s not true comfort, I don’t know what is.”
    “Why I even bother to ask for your opinion I don’t know,” Caleb said hotly.
    Reuben turned his attention to Stone. “You seen Susan lately?”
    Only Stone knew Annabelle’s real name.
    “She came by the other day, but only for a few minutes. She successfully completed her task with Milton. The item is back where it belongs.”
    “I have to admit,” Caleb said. “She did what she said she was going to do.”
    Reuben said, “Now if I could just get her to go out with me. She keeps having other plans. I’m not sure if she’s trying to brush me off or not. But I don’t get it. Look at me. What’s not to love?”
    Reuben was nearly sixty, with a full beard and dark curly hair mixed with gray down to his shoulders. He was six-five with the build of an NFL left tackle. A highly decorated Vietnam War vet and former military intelligence officer, he had burned many professional bridges and nearly succumbed to pills and the bottle before Oliver Stone had brought him back from the edge. He now worked on a loading dock.
    “I saw where your ‘friend’ Carter Gray received the Medal of Freedom,” Caleb said after giving Reuben an incredulous look. “Talk about your ironies. If that man had his way you two would be dead and the rest of us would be getting water-dunked in some CIA-run torture chamber.”
    Reuben roared, “For the hundredth time it’s water-
boarding,
not water-dunking.”
    “Well, whatever it is, he’s a nasty man.”
    “He’s actually a man who believes his way is the right way, and he’s certainly not alone in that belief,” Stone said. “I went down to the White House and saw him off after he received his award.”
    “You went down to the White House?” Caleb exclaimed.
    “Well, he showed me his medal and I sort of
waved
at him.”
    “What, you two are now best buds?” Reuben added with a snort. “From a man who tried to kill you a few times?”
    “He also saved someone for me,” Stone said quietly.
    “Care to explain that?” Reuben asked curiously.
    “No.”
    Someone banged on his door. Stone rose to answer it, thinking it might be Milton or perhaps Annabelle.
    The man at the door was dressed in a dark suit and had a pistol under his jacket, Stone observed. He handed Stone a piece of paper and walked off. Stone opened the note.
    Carter Gray wanted Stone to visit him at his house two days from today. A car would pick him up. There did not seem to be an opportunity to decline the command. When he told the others Caleb said, “Oliver, you’re not going.”
    “Of course I am,” Stone said.

CHAPTER 9
    H ARRY F INN WAS CURRENTLY sucking on oxygen and peering out of his specially designed headgear. They were going so fast there wasn’t a lot to see. A storm was raging and those on the deck of the boat were no doubt getting wet and jostled. It wasn’t any better where Finn was. Demonstrating once more his affinity for unusual choices in transportation, he was attached to the side of a ship in a very tight ball near the stern using a support device not available to the public. He had discovered a seam in the exterior video and human surveillance perimeters and was now an invisible bump against the gunmetal gray side of the naval ship. The ride was far less comfortable than the plane cargo hold had been. In fact, despite his special device, Finn was nearly jolted off his perch twice. Had he been, his life probably would have ended on impact with the twin screws that were thrusting the ship through the