it had held before. They spoke for another twenty minutes, the captain asking nothing that seemed to be sensitive information, and the captain fed the prisoner a small loaf of bread soaked in stew, then saw him returned to his cell.<br /><br />When the captain returned to his desk, he scribbled a few notes detailing what minor information he’d been able to finesse from his conversation with the prisoner, directed the memo to the department where it might possibly be of use, and left for “home”, once again perfectly military in his bearing.<br /><br />“Home” was a hotel room; he was assisting here in D.C. for the weekend; his family and his true home were in New York City, a few hours flight away. He could have slepta tearful last goodbye to your family and hold them while you all romantically die together. No, you’ll be airborne, approaching the city but not yet close enough to be within the blast zone when the explosion happens. You will be close enough to get a very good look at the blast, though.”<br /><br />Stone stood in the doorway, his right hand on the knob, playing with his keys with his left hand, weighing his options, for a long minute. Finally, he shrugged, closed the door and returned to the room, tossing his hat and keys back onto the dresser. He moved as though to sit on the bed again, but as he came within ten feet of the devil, he launched himself at his tormentor, striking out