Free Divine Justice by David Baldacci

story together so just answer my questions. Who is Oliver Stone really? And where is he now?”
    “Oliver is Oliver. He used to have a tent in Lafayette Park. He’s the caretaker at Mt. Zion Cemetery. But I don’t know where he is. I haven’t seen him for over six months. You can water-dunk me and I’d tell you the same thing.”
    “You mean
waterboarding
, and we don’t do that to people,” Knox said firmly. “Because that constitutes torture.”
    “Oh, really?” Caleb replied with both eyebrows tilted to the ceiling. “Then you might want to let your friends in the government know. There seems to be some confusion on that particular topic.”
    Ignoring this, Knox said, “Does the name John Carr mean anything to you?”
    “Yes, it absolutely does.”
    Knox perked up. “Tell me about him.”
    “John Dickson Carr is a very famous mystery writer. Well, he’s dead now, but I can recommend several of his works to you. Good stuff.”
    “I’m talking about John Carr the soldier, not the writer,” Knox snapped.
    “I don’t know anyone by that name. There is of course John le Carré, but he’s also a writer, though he did work in British intelligence at one point. And le Carré is only a nom de plume. His real name is David Cornwell. I could recommend some of his works as well.”
    Knox ground his teeth together and reminded himself that beating to death a public servant was not in the best interests of either his investigation or a future peaceful retirement. “This soldier was an
American
. Very distinguished record in Nam. He died. He was buried. This was over thirty years ago. Then they dug up his grave at Arlington and there was no body in it.”
    “Good Lord! I don’t like to disparage my employer, but the federal government really has become so sloppy recently. But to lose an entire
body
? That really is outrageous.”
    Knox stared at him for a moment, then said, “Maybe the body was never in the grave, Shaw. How does that theory grab you?”
    “Interesting, but what does that have to do with me?”
    “Maybe John Carr and Oliver Stone are one and the same?”
    “Well, I don’t really see how that could be. But then again, Oliver never talked about his past and I respected his privacy. He’s a good man, though, one of the most loyal friends anyone could ask for.”
    “You sound pretty sure for him just being an
acquaintance.”
    “I’m a quick and accurate judge of people.”
    “How about your buddy, Milton Farb? Was Stone loyal to him?”
    “Milton’s dead,” Caleb said firmly.
    “I know. I’d like to know how he died.”
    “He was murdered.”
    “I know that too. Any idea who might’ve killed him?”
    “If I did, the police would know, I can assure you.”
    “He dies and your buddy Oliver disappears?”
    “If you’re thinking that Oliver had anything to do with it, you’re sadly mistaken. He loved Milton like a brother.”
    “Right. Anything else you can tell me?”
    “Not unless it has to do with rare books.”
    He handed Caleb a card. “Call me if you
don’t
think of anything else.”
    He left the room.
    At another time in his life Caleb probably would’ve have fainted dead away after such an encounter. However, he was a different person now, especially after Milton’s death.
    He simply rose and went back to work, tucking the card into his pocket.
    Knox drove to the warehouse where Reuben Rhodes worked, but the big man was not there, nor had anyone seen him for some days. They also did not have an address for him.
    “How do you pay the man without a home address?” he asked the foreman.
    “He picks up his check in person. I never mail it. That’s the way he likes it.”
    “How about his year-end tax documents?”
    “I give him that too. In person.”
    “I take it the man doesn’t want people to know where he lives?”
    “I’m not putting words in Reuben’s mouth but I’d say that was a fair assessment.”
    “What can you tell me about him?”
    “Good