the door open and left the waiting room.
He caught up to Annabelle as she reached a window and looked out at the setting sun.
“I really can’t believe this, Oliver,” she said in a trembling voice. “Wake me up and tell me this is not real.”
“But he’s still with us. He’s tough. We just have to keep believing that he will come out of this.”
She sat down in a chair. Stone stood next to her. When she started to cry, he handed her a wad of tissues he’d grabbed before following her.
When the sobs subsided, she looked up at him. “The doctors didn’t seem very optimistic.”
“Doctors never do. Their job is to dampen hopes, not heighten expectations. Then if the patient comes out of it, they look more competent than they actually are. But they don’t know Alex like we do.”
“He’s a hero. As brave as anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Yes,” agreed Stone.
“So you emailed him? Told him about the bomb?”
Stone nodded and with each motion of his head his guilt deepened. I emailed him. I made him confront the problem. I’m the reason he’s lying in that coma.
He sat down next to her. “I… I wasn’t very forthcoming with Alex during this whole thing.” He thought back to when he and Chapman were leaving Friedman’s office that night. Alex had approached, obviously wanted to talk.
And I basically blew him off. And now he’s lying in a coma.
While putting on a brave front to Annabelle, Stone had had a private chat with the doctors. They were not hopeful of recovery.
“Is there brain damage?” Stone had asked.
“Too early to tell,” replied one of them. “We’re just trying to keep him alive.”
“Oliver?”
He turned to see Annabelle staring at him. “What were you thinking just now?”
“That I failed my friend. That he deserved better than me.”
“If you hadn’t gotten that message to him, the bomb would have gone off in the crowd. So many people would have died.”
“The logical part of me realizes that.” He touched his chest. “But not this part.” He paused. “Milton. And now Alex. It has to stop, Annabelle. It has to.”
“We all knew what we were getting into.”
“No, I don’t think anyone really knew. But it doesn’t matter.”
“I want to find who did this, Oliver. I want them to pay for what they did.”
“They will, Annabelle. That I swear to you.”
She glanced sharply at him. “You’re going after them?”
“It’ll either be me or them who walks away. I owe Alex that. I at least owe him that.”
Stone looked off down the hallway. He seemed to sense it before it even happened.
Annabelle noted this. “What is it?”
“They’re coming.”
“Who’s coming?”
He helped her to her feet and hugged her. “I promise you that I will find who did this. I promise you.”
“You can’t do it alone, Oliver.”
“This time I have to.”
When he stepped back from her there were tears in his eyes. They slid down his narrow cheeks. Annabelle looked stunned by this. She had never seen Oliver Stone cry before.
“Oliver?”
He kissed her on the forehead, turned and walked away just as the men in suits rounded the corner and headed toward him.
CHAPTER 87
TWO MINUTES LATER STONE AND CHAPMAN were in a government sedan heading downtown. From the car they were escorted to a small conference room at the FBI’s WFO. Stone was not surprised to see the FBI director there or Agent Ashburn. Or even Agent Garchik and the director of ATF. But he was surprised to see Riley Weaver walk in and sit down next to the FBI chief.
“I’ve already given my report to Agent Ashburn,” Stone said.
ck on top. And if Montoya is indeed behind this, that would mean he would be back on top too.”
“So the whole piece with Fuat Turkekul was a sham?” asked Ashburn. “He wasn’t a traitor?”
Chapman answered. “Probably not. It’s likely he was sacrificed.”
“And the tree farm, John Kravitz and George Sykes?” said the FBI director.
“All innocent and all sacrificed too,” said Chapman. “To reinforce the Russian angle. But Judy Donohue was in on it. Paid off and then killed.”