Cross Country (23 page)

I
T ALL HAPPENED so fast in the taxi and caught me completely off guard and unprepared, but I saw a chance, and I had to take it.

So I lurched forward and grabbed the gun and his hand at the same time.

Then I smashed his wrist against the taxi's metal partition. I smashed it again as hard as I could.

The man yelped loudly and he let go of the gun. I pulled it away and swung it toward him.

Suddenly he ducked low and then flung himself out the front door.

I jumped out the back door, but he was already scampering down a grassy hill. Then he disappeared into a thicket of woods off to the side of the highway.

I had a shot with his gun, but I didn't take it. He'd called me "traitor." Just like the flight attendant.

Did he believe that, or was he doing what he'd been told?

I pictured the man's face, gaunt, a goatee, maybe in his midtwenties. A soldier? A thug? His accented English showed hints of a Nigerian dialect. So who had sent him after me — the Tiger? Somebody else? Who?

I tried not to speculate on conspiracy theories right now. Not here, not yet.

The keys were still in the ignition, and without much deliberation I decided to drive the taxi home. I'd call Metro once I was there.

But what would I tell them — how much of this strange and disturbing story?

And how much would I tell Nana? She wouldn't be happy to see me like this: driving a cab — taken from the driver, who had wanted to kill me.

I
T TOOK ONLY a few minutes for me to get to the house on Fifth Street.

Was everyone all right? Maybe this was just more paranoia on my part. But maybe it wasn't. The Tiger went after families, didn't he? And someone had just tried to kill me. I wasn't making that up.

I was startled by Rosie the cat, who snuck up behind me on the front lawn.

Who had let Rosie out? She was a committed indoor cat. I could see she was highly agitated. Why was that? What had happened? What had Rosie seen?

"Nana," I called as I ran up the front steps. "Nana!"

I turned the knob — and the door wasn't locked.

That wasn't right either. Nobody left their doors unlocked in Southeast, especially Nana.

"Nana!… Kids!" I called as I let myself in and began hurrying though the downstairs part of the house. I didn't want to scare them just because I was frightened out of my skull.

Still?

I stopped in the kitchen because it was a complete disaster area. I'd never seen it like this. It looked like someone had been making a cake and had stopped in the middle of things.

But that wasn't all that had happened here. Chairs had been turned over. Plates and glasses were broken on the floor.

So was a mixing bowl that looked like it had held vanilla frosting. Nana had been making a cake — lucky for me.

I pulled out the gun I'd taken from the taxi driver.

Then I started upstairs, unable to get my breath. I tried not to trample on Rosie as we hurried up there together.

Quietly.

And quickly.

I
CHECKED ALL the bedrooms on the second floor. Then my office in the attic. Finally I went down to the cellar.

Finally, I called Metro and reported the possible kidnapping of my family.

Within minutes, three cruisers pulled up in front. Their roof lights were flashing ominously. I came outside just as Sampson arrived.

I explained to John what I knew so far. He stood with me on the porch, where I was holding Rosie, holding on to her for support, really. Everything felt unreal and I was numb from my head to my feet.

"It's the Tiger, has to be him. Something about what happened in Africa," I said to John. "I almost got shot on the way from the airport." I pointed toward the taxi sitting on the street. "Cab driver pulled a gun on me."

"They're alive, Alex," Sampson said and put an arm around me. "They have to be."

"I hope you're right. Otherwise, they would have killed them here, like Ellie and her family."

"They must think you know something. Do you, Alex?"

"Not very much," I told Sampson. But it was a white lie.

I heard a woman's scream then. "Alex!… Alex!"

Bree! She was running down the block from where she'd had to leave her car. The police had completely blocked off Fifth Street now. It was starting to look like one of those gruesome crime scenes that I hated to be called in on. Only this time, it was my house, my family.

"What is it, Alex? I just got the call. Saw the address. What happened?"

"Somebody took Nana, Ali, and Jannie," Sampson told Bree. "That's what it looks like."

Bree came into my arms and held me tight. "Oh, Alex, Alex, no." She made no empty promises, just gave me the only comfort she could. Her embrace, a few whispered words.

"No note, no message?" she finally asked.

"I didn't find anything. We should look again. I don't think I was too clearheaded the first time I looked. I know I wasn't."

"You think you ought to go back in there right now?" she said and took my arm.

"I have to. Come with me. Both of you, come."

We all went back into the house.

W
HILE BREE AND Sampson started looking around, I called Damon's school and talked to the headmaster, then got Damon on the line. I told him to pack some things. We would be moving him soon. Sampson had already made the arrangements for him to be picked up. "Why do I have to come home?" Damon wanted to know.

I joined Bree and Sampson and we searched the house for several hours, but there was nothing for us to find. No message left anywhere. The only evidence of a struggle was the mess in the kitchen and a tangled runner in the foyer.

I thought to check my computer, but there was nothing there either. No messages had been left anywhere. No threats. No explanation of any kind. Was that the message?

I decided to place a call to Lagos next. It was eight a.m. there.

I reached Ian Flaherty's office, but he didn't pick up himself this time.

"Mr. Flaherty is not here at the moment," said his assistant. She sounded nervous.

"Do you know where he is or when he's expected back?" I asked her. "It's important that I talk to him."

"I'm sorry, I don't. There is a lot going on here, sir. It's a very bad situation."

"Yes, I know. May I leave a message for him?"

"Of course."

"Tell him that Alex Cross is back in Washington. They've taken my family. I think it's the Tiger or his people who did this. I need to talk to him. Please make sure that he gets this message. It could be a matter of life or death."

"Yes, sir," said the assistant, "it always is."

S
AMPSON, BREE, AND I stayed in the house another hour or so. We searched every room again, looking for anything to work with.

Finally I told John to go home to his family and get some sleep.

No one had called or tried to get a message to me.

"There are two squad cars outside," Sampson said. "They'll stay here the rest of the night. Don't argue with me about it."

"I know. I can see them."

"That's the idea, sugar. They're supposed to be seen."

"Make sure they're on their toes," Bree said. "I'll be here too. Tell them I'll be checking."

Sampson hugged Bree, then did the same with me. There was no cop humor tonight, no making light of this. "Anything — you call," he told me.

Then he started out the kitchen door. He stopped and turned back. "I'll talk to the men outside. Maybe put on one more car."

I didn't bother to agree or disagree. I was in no shape to make decisions right now. "Thank you."

"We'll be fine," Bree said.

"I have no doubt," Sampson said and nodded. "Call me if anything happens!" Finally he shut the door behind him.

I went over and locked the door, which would give us an extra few seconds if somebody tried to come in. Maybe we'd need it.

"You all right with this?" Bree asked.

I nodded. "You staying with me? Of course I am."

She drifted over and hugged me again. "Let's go upstairs, then." She took my hand. "Alex, come."

I let Bree take me upstairs. I was numb and in a faraway dreamscape anyway.

"There's a phone in here," she said as we entered the bedroom. Then she hugged me again and reached down and started to unhook my belt. I didn't think that was what I needed, but I was wrong about that.

Until the phone in the bedroom rang.

T
HE CALLS TO the house started at a few minutes past four in the morning. Hang-ups, one after the other, virtually nonstop.

Bree and I held each other through the night, probably the worst night of my life.

I told her some of what I'd done and seen in Africa — about the horrors and Adanne and her family — their senseless murders. But I also talked about the goodness and naturalness of the people; their helplessness, caught in a nightmare they hadn't created and didn't want.

"And this Tiger, what more did you learn about that bastard, Alex?"

"Terrorist, assassin — seems to work both sides of the street. Anyone who pays him. He's the most violent killer I've ever seen, Bree. He likes to hurt people. And there are others like him. It's a name they have for killers for hire: Tiger."

"So he took Nana and the kids? He did this? You're sure about that?"

"Yes," I said as the phone rang again. "And that's him."

The phone kept ringing — and I began to pace around the house, going from room to room, thinking about my family all the while. Rosie followed me everywhere.

In the kitchen, Nana's favorite cookbook was still out — The Gift of Southern Cooking. I checked and saw it was open to a starred recipe for chocolate-pecan cake.

Nana's famous gabardine raincoat was draped over the back of a kitchen chair. How many times had she told me, "I don't want another raincoat. It took me half a century to get this one worn in right"?

I walked around Ali's room.

I saw his Pokemon cards laid out carefully on the floor. His beloved plush toy Moo. A hand-painted T-shirt from his fifth birthday party. A copy of
Ralph S. Mouse
spread open on the night table.

When I got to Jannie's room, I sat down heavily on the bed. My eyes ran over her precious collection of books. And the wire baskets brimming with hair accessories, lip glosses, fruit-scented lotions. Then I spotted her reading glasses, prescribed only a month or so ago. That got to me. There was something so vulnerable and telling about her new glasses sitting on the desk.

I sat there holding Rosie and heard the phone ring again. Bree picked it up.

She said, very quietly, "Fuck you."

And she hung up on whoever it was this time.

I
WAS GOING to get my family back. I had to believe that. But was it true? What were the real odds that I would? They were definitely getting worse.

But I was afraid to be away from the house for any length of time.

At a little past seven, the phone hang-ups stopped and I got about an hour of sleep.

Then I showered and dressed and called in one of the patrolmen from the street. I told him to take any calls for me and gave him a cell number where I could be reached.

At nine, Bree and I attended an emergency meeting at the Daly Building.

I was surprised to find about a dozen officers inside the conference room. These were top people too, the best in Washington. I understood that it was a show of support and concern for me. Most of the detectives were people I'd worked with on other cases. Chief of Detectives Davies, Bree, and Sampson had reached out to officers with street connections who might help locate my family.

If anyone could.