Criss Cross

Chapter 29

Present day

More than a decade after that message and four days after M managed to put a head and finger in the back of our car in Ohio, I entered the visitors’ center at the Alexandria jail for my scheduled meeting with Martin Forbes.

I didn’t fully trust Marty Forbes’s alibi tale. I still believed he could have found the reference to M in files at Quantico and then cooked up everything else, hoping to lure me in to help him.

Forbes was smiling when he entered the booth on the opposite side of the bulletproof glass.

“I read the papers,” he said. “I see it’s out in the open now. M is messing with you, isn’t he, Cross?”

“He sent a note.”

“What did it say?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”

That pissed off Forbes. “You don’t trust me. This is my life.”

“I know it is, and no, I don’t trust you. Not entirely. That’s just the way it is.”

He stewed over that for a while and then said, “I’m a smart guy. I was a good agent, a good investigator.”

“I’d agree with that.”

“Then use me,” Forbes said, tapping his head. “I do nothing but sit around all day. Who was the woman? The head?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“C’mon, Cross, let me in. I can help.”

I thought about it and decided to let him in on some of it. I read him a copy of the note M had left us.

Forbes listened, gazing off into the middle distance.

“He called himself Mastermind,” he said after a few moments. “Craig’s alias.”

I shook my head. “M didn’t call himself Mastermind. He said that he was a mastermind.”

“Still. That’s something.”

“It’s not,” I insisted. “Craig’s dead. I saw him blown apart and consumed in flames. This guy’s using words he knows will yank our chain. It’s misdirection.”

“I know what I saw,” Forbes said.

“While you were drugged,” I said. “It could have been a hallucination. Or M wore a disguise to look like Craig.”

I could tell Forbes was not convinced, but he let the issue drop and said, “He called the media. That’s a bold move.”

“Very bold,” I said. “And now they know he has a name. Or a letter, anyway.”

“Is the story getting traction?”

“The media doesn’t know the extent of it all yet,” I said. “Not by a mile.”

“What does that mean?” he said, studying me.

I considered telling him about the earlier notes from M but then decided to keep that close. “Your story, for one,” I said.

“It’s going to come out,” Forbes said. “I’ve told the Bureau about this.”

That was news to me, but before I could question him, he said, “And I told you and my attorney.”

“That’s a good thing,” I said. “But I’d appreciate it if you kept a lid on that until it comes out in court. If he wants you in here, there’s a reason.”

He stared at me, then shook his head in disgust. “You’re not here about me at all, Cross. I had it wrong. You’re not the straight shooter I thought you were. You’re in it for yourself, same as M, same as everyone else. Meanwhile, I sit and rot.”

Before I could reply, he slammed down the phone, glared at me, and then got up and walked away.