Cross Country

Chapter 123

I KNEW I had failed.

And I knew, and had known for a long time, that I’d already witnessed and investigated enough murders and bloodshed to last me for a couple of lifetimes. Nothing had prepared me for the insane mayhem and horrors of the past few weeks: torture and episodes of genocide; suffering by innocent women and children; finally, the senseless murders of Adanne Tansi and her family.

I wanted nothing more than to escape into sleep for a few hours on the plane to London, where I would eventually connect with a flight to Washington.

But I couldn’t stop the terrible nightmare images from my time in Africa: Again and again I saw Adanne’s murder and rape by the monstrous Tiger.

And what had come of the murders of Adanne and her family? What had been accomplished beyond a failed chase after the killer called Tiger? What of all the other deaths here that would never be avenged, or even properly memorialized? What of the secrets Adanne had shared with me?

I woke with a shiver as the flight descended into London’s Gatwick. I had slept some and now I felt groggy and had an upset stomach and a splitting headache.

Maybe it was just my paranoia, but the Virgin Nigeria flight attendants seemed to have avoided me for most of the trip.

I needed water now and an aspirin. I signaled the attendants, who were collecting cups and soda cans before we landed. “Excuse me?” I called out.

I was certain the women had seen me signal, but I was ignored by them again.

Finally, I did something I don’t remember ever having done on a flight. I hit the “Attendant” button. Several times. That got me a stern look from the closer of the flight attendants. She still didn’t come to see what I needed.

I got up and went to her. “I don’t know what I’ve done to offend you–,” I began.

She cut me off.

“I will tell you. You are a most ugly American. Most Americans are that way, but you are even more so. You have caused suffering to those you came into contact with. And now you want my help? No. Not even a cold drink. The seat belt light is on. Return to your seat.”

I took her arm and held it lightly but firmly. Then I turned and looked around toward the cabin.

I was hoping to see someone watching us, someone who had spoken to the flight attendants about me.

No one seemed to be looking our way. Nor did I recognize anyone.

“Who told you about me?” I asked. “Someone on the plane? Who was it? Show me.”

She shook herself loose. “You figure it out. You are the detective.” Then she walked away and didn’t look back. That angry face of hers and the mystery of her anger toward me followed me all the way home.

Chapter 124

THE NEXT TWELVE hours of the trip passed very slowly, but finally I arrived in Washington. I wasn’t able to reach Nana to tell her I was home. So I just grabbed a taxi waiting at Reagan International and headed to Fifth Street.

It was a little past nine and the nighttime traffic was heavy, but I was glad to be in DC again. Sometimes it feels that way when I come home after a long, hard trip, and this time certainly qualified. I couldn’t wait to be in my own house, my own bed.

Once I was in the cab, I got lost in a kind of jet-lagged reverie.

No one had any idea about the carnage and suffering until they actually visited parts of Nigeria, Sudan, Sierra Leone – and there were no easy answers or solutions either. I didn’t believe that the violence I had seen came from regular people being evil. But those at the top were, at least some of them.

And then there were psychopaths on the loose, like the Tiger and the other killers for hire, the wild boys. The fact that terrible conditions might have made them killers hardly seemed to matter.

The irony that kept jabbing at me was that I’d spent the last dozen years chasing murderers in the States, and it seemed like child’s play now, nothing compared with what I’d seen in the past weeks.

I was shaken out of my reverie when the cab slid over to the side of the road. What was wrong now? I was home, and still misfortune followed me? What – a flat tire?

The driver peered back and nervously announced, “Engine trouble. I am sorry. Very sorry.” Then he pulled a gun and yelled, “Traitor! Die!”

Chapter 125

SOMEBODY WAS STUBBORNLY ringing the front-door bell at the Cross house. Ringing it again and again and again.

Nana was in Ali’s bedroom, putting him down the way he liked her to, lying in bed next to him until the sweet boy drifted off to sleep as she whispered the words of a favorite story.

Tonight the book was Ralph S. Mouse, and Ali wouldn’t stop giggling at every page, often a couple of times on the same page, saying, “Read it again, Nana. Read it again.”

Nana waited patiently for Jannie to get the front door. But it rang again, and then again. Persistent and rude and maddening. Jannie had been making a cake in the kitchen. Where was that girl? Why didn’t she answer the door?

“Now who can it be?” Nana mumbled as she pushed herself up and out of Ali’s bed. “I’ll be right back, Ali. Janelle, you are trying my patience, and that’s not a good idea.”

But when she got to the living room, Nana Mama saw that Janelle was already at the door which was flung wide open.

A strange boy in a red Houston Rockets basketball shirt was still ringing the bell.

“Are you some kind of a crazy person?” Nana called out as she hobbled quickly across the foyer. “Stop that bell ringing this instant! Just stop it now. What do you want here so late? Do I know you, son?”

The boy in the Rockets jersey finally took his hand off the bell. Then he held up a sawed-off shotgun for Nana to see, but she kept coming forward until she protectively held Jannie.

“I will kill dis stupid girl in a second,” he said. “And I will kill you, of woman. I will not hesitate jus’ ‘cause you de detective’s family.”

Chapter 126

IT 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.

I didn’t think the cab driver was an experienced killer. He’d hesitated instead of just pulling the trigger and shooting me.

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 52taken from the driver, who had wanted to kill me.

Chapter 127

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

I parked the cab out on the street. Suddenly I was sprinting toward the house. On the way home, I had started to worry about Nana and the kids.

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.

Chapter 128

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

There was nothing, no one, anywhere in the house.

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.

Chapter 129

WHILE 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.

“You’re not coming home right now. Not yet. It isn’t safe here. Not for any of us.”

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.”

Chapter 130

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

But I understood that the two of them were here to make sure I was all right, especially since I was showing a few cracks.

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.

Chapter 131

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

The calls were emotional torture for me, but I answered every time; and I didn’t dare take the phone off the hook. How could I? The phone was my lifeline to Nana and the kids. Whoever was calling had them. I had to believe that.

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.

Chapter 132

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.

From six-thirty until close to seven that morning, I sat out on the front porch and tried not to go completely crazy. I thought about taking a drive, to see if it would relax me.

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.

Chapter 133

FROM THERE, THE day got stranger and stranger for me.

At eleven o’clock, I faced a smaller group inside a windowless conference room at CIA headquarters out at Langley. The atmosphere in the room couldn’t have been more different from the one at Daly. Everyone except me wore a suit and tie. The body language was stiff and uncomfortable. No one wanted to be there except me – I needed their help.

A case officer from the National Clandestine Service named Merrill Snyder greeted me with a firm handshake and the unpromising line “Thanks for coming to see us, Dr. Cross.”

“Can we start?” I asked him.

“We’re just waiting for one more,” Snyder said. “There’s coffee, soft drinks.”

“Where’s Eric Dana?” I asked, remembering the leader’s name from the last time I’d been out to Langley.

“He’s on vacation. The man we’re waiting on is his superior. Sure you don’t want some coffee?”

“No, I’m fine. I don’t need any more caffeine this morning, trust me.”

“I understand. You still haven’t heard from whoever abducted your family?” Snyder asked. “No communication?”

Before I could answer him, the door to the conference room swung wide open. A tall, dark-haired man in his early forties, wearing a gray suit and silver-and-red-striped tie, entered. He carried himself like someone important, which he probably was.

And right behind him came… Ian Flaherty.

Chapter 134

THE MAN EVERYONE had been waiting for introduced himself as Steven Millard. He said he was with National Clandestine Service but gave no rank. I remembered now that Al Tunney had mentioned his name before I went to Africa. Millard was the group chief, who’d been involved from the start.

All Flaherty said was, “Dr. Cross.”

“Has there been any word about your family?” Millard wanted to know right off.

Snyder cut in. “No word so far. They haven’t contacted him.”

“There are cops from Metro at my house now,” I told them. “They’ll answer my phone and call me.”

“That’s good. About all you can do,” said Millard. I couldn’t figure out what to make of him. I was sure he knew about my meeting with Eric Dana before I’d left for Africa, but how much more did Millard know?

“I need whatever help you can give me,” I finally said. “I really need some help.”

“You can count on it,” said Millard. “But I have a couple of questions you might be able to help us out with first. Detective Cross, why did you go to Africa in the first place?”

“A friend of mine and her entire family were killed. I had a lead that the killer fled to Lagos. It was my homicide case.”

Millard nodded and seemed to understand. “Tell me this, then, what did you learn in Africa? Something useful, I assume? Otherwise, why would this professional killer want to come after you and your family in Washington?”

“I was hoping maybe you could help me out with that. What’s going on in Nigeria and here in Washington too? Can you tell me?”

Millard clasped, then unclasped, his hands. “Did you see anything unusual or unsettling in Nigeria? We need to figure out why this killer would want to come after you here. You’re a well-known police officer. This Tiger, or whoever it is, wouldn’t want to take the risk unless he had to. I can’t imagine that he would. Unless you really pissed him off.”

“You know it’s him, then?”

“No, no, I don’t know for sure. It just makes sense. Ian agrees. So what do you know, Dr. Cross?”

I looked at Flaherty, then back at Millard. “You’re not going to help me find my family, are you? You just want to pump me for information again?”

Millard sighed, took a beat and then said, “Dr. Cross, regretfully, we think your family is dead.”

I stood up much too quickly from my chair, almost tipping it over.

“How can you say that? What do you know? What aren’t you telling me? Why would they call me all night if my family’s dead?”

Millard stared into my eyes, then rose from his seat too. “You were advised not to get involved in this. I’m sorry for your loss. We’ll help if we possibly can.”

Then he felt compelled to add, “We’re not the bad guys here, Detective. There is no big conspiracy at work.”

If that was true, why did everybody have to keep saying it?

Chapter 135

THOSE CIA BASTARDS! Even though they had been a little more human this time, I knew they were hiding something.

Maybe that’s why I didn’t tell them what Adanne had revealed after the slaughter of her family. The meeting had been typical of my experience with them over the years.

And Flaherty? After the meeting, he had gone to Langley for a “previously scheduled series of meetings.” No way that was the whole truth, or anything close to it. At least I didn’t think so.

That night, I went home to an empty house. I’d told Bree that it might be better if I was in the house alone. I was so desperate, I was ready to try anything now.

Millard’s words kept coming back. Dr. Cross, regretfully, we think your family is dead.

I fixed a sandwich but only nibbled the corners away. Then I watched the news stations – CNN, CNBC, FOX – but there was almost nothing about the civil war in the Delta.

Unbelievable. A Hollywood actress had killed herself in LA, and that was the big story; it was being covered on every station-almost as if they all had the same news source and used the same journalists.

Finally, I switched the story about the dead actress off, and the silence wasn’t a good thing either. I was nearly overwhelmed by sadness and fear that I had lost Nana, Ali, and Jannie.

For a long time I stayed in the kitchen, holding my head in my arms and hands. I remembered certain images, and feelings, and sensations from the past: Ali, just a little boy, and such a sweetheart; Jannie, still my “Velcro” girl, my living memory of her mother; Nana, who had saved me so many times since I’d come to DC at ten after both my parents had died.

I didn’t see how I could continue to live without them. Could I?

The phone began to ring again and I snatched up the receiver. I hoped it was the Tiger, wanting something, wanting me.

But it wasn’t.

“It’s Ian Flaherty. I just wanted to check on you. See if you’re all right. See if you remembered anything that could help.”

“Help you?” I said in a tight voice. “My family’s been‘ taken. My family. Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

“I think I do. We want to help you, Dr. Cross. Just tell us what you know.”

“Or what, Flaherty? What else can they do to me?”

“The proper question is… what can they do to your family?”

Flaherty left me a number where I could reach him at any time of the day or night.

At least the bastard was staying up late too.

Chapter 136

THE SOUND OF a ringing telephone woke me from a shallow snooze on the living room couch. I picked the phone up, still half asleep, my extremities tingling.

“Cross.”

“Go to ya moto car now. We watchin’ ya house, Cross. Lights on upstairs and in di kitchen. You was sleepin’ in living room.”

A male speaking. English with a pidgin accent. I’d heard a lot of it in the past few weeks, but I was particularly tuned into it now – every syllable.

“Is my family all right?” I asked. “Where are they? Just tell me that.”

“Bring your cell phone wit you. We have numba and we wan ya follow directions. And don’t call no one or your family dead. Go now, Cross. Listen up.”

I was sitting up now, staring out the window in the living room, sliding my feet into my shoes.

I didn’t see anyone outside. No cars or lights were visible from where I was.

“Why should I listen to you?” I asked the caller.

A second voice cut in. “Because I say you should!”

The phone at the other end clicked off. The second voice had been gruff, older than the first. And I recognized it instantly.

The Tiger. He was here in Washington. He had my family.

Chapter 137

SUDDENLY I HAD even more questions.

They had the number of the cell phone I had borrowed. How did that happen? I wondered.

Not that it was impossible to get – but how had a gang of hoodlums from Nigeria managed to do it?

I wasn’t inclined to conspiracy theories, but it was getting harder and harder to deny the obvious. Someone wanted to know what I had found out in Africa. And to shut me up for good.

Maybe a minute after the call ended, I walked out on the front porch, which I’d decided to keep dark for now. I still couldn’t see anyone watching on the street.

Were they here? Had they left already? Did they have Nana and the kids in a nearby truck or van?

I didn’t want to play the target any longer than I had to.

I hurried down the steps and got into the Mercedes – the family car that I had bought for safety.

I started it up, then began to back out of the driveway, feeling the car’s power. I felt like I needed that – the help of some external force.

The cell phone shrilled – and I stopped.

“You continue to be a fool.” It was the older male again. I wanted to curse him out, but I said nothing. He might have my family. That was a hard thing to hope for, but I did anyway. I had to hope for something.

He laughed into the phone.

“What’s funny?” I asked him.

“You are. Don’t you want to know which way to turn out of your driveway?” he asked.

“Which way?”

“Make a left. Then you follow my directions straight to hell.”

Chapter 138

HE STAYED ON the line as I drove along Fifth Street but didn’t say much of anything – and nothing to help me figure out what I should do next. I was trying to think things through, to make some kind of plan – anything that might work, maybe even a wild hunch.

“Let me speak to my family,” I spoke again.

“Why should I?”

I thought about stepping on the brakes, making a stand here, but he had every advantage right now.

“Which way?” I said.

“Make a right, next corner.”

I did as I was told.

“The fight in Africa is not your fight, white man!” I listened to the Tiger spitting rage as I drove along Malcolm X Avenue in Southeast. “You should drive faster,” he said, as if he were right there in the front seat, watching me.

He directed me onto I-295 heading south toward Maryland. I’d been on that road countless times before, but it seemed unreal and unfamiliar tonight.

Next, I merged onto 95 and then Route 210 and followed it for nearly fifteen miles, which seemed much farther than that.

Eventually I found myself on 425.

His voice went low. “Let me tell you something that’s true. You are only coming to collect the bodies. You want the bodies, don’t you?”

“I want my family back,” I said. He only laughed at that.

I said little more to the Tiger unless he asked me a direct question, and he didn’t seem to care. Maybe he wanted to hear himself talk.

I needed to put the rational part of my mind in another place. So I listened to his threats, his cruel insults, but I just let them flow over me. It wasn’t hard, because I was numb anyway. I was here, but I wasn’t.

Chapter 139

“PULL OFF THE road!” he commanded.

I did as I was told.

There didn’t seem to be any other vehicles around. I didn’t think I had passed anyone since I’d gotten onto Layloes Nick Road, somewhere in Maryland, around Nanjemoy.

But I wasn’t completely sure. How could I be?

I was that out of it. That nervous and afraid, that petrified.

“Take the next right. At the corner. Don’t miss the turn. You better hurry now! Hurry!”

I made the turn, then drove straight ahead, as I was told to do. The trees and bushes surrounding the road appeared black and very thick, possibly because my peripheral vision was narrowing in the dark.

Above me was a big sky filled with stars. I was reminded of Jannie, her love of the stars, but then I forced the sentimental thought out of my mind.

Nothing sentimental. Not now.

Maybe never again.

“Stop your motor, get out! Do exactly as I say!”

“That’s what I’m doing.”

Chapter 140

“YOU SEE THE farm ahead? Come and get your family. You can collect the bodies now! I know you can’t believe it, but it’s true. They’re all dead, Dr. Cross. Come to the farm and see.”

My heart was floating as I started sweeping forward through tall grass and bushes toward the small farmhouse that was still a couple of hundred yards away. My legs and arms felt numb, like they were part of somebody else.

I tried to calm myself by taking slow, deep breaths. Then by not thinking at all. Finally, by gathering my hatred for the Tiger into a small, tight ball that could explode at the proper time.

“You remember how you found the Cox family in Georgetown? This is better,” he taunted me. “You made it happen, Detective.”

I wanted to tell the rabid monster that my family had done nothing to hurt anybody ever, but I kept it inside. I didn’t want to give him anything else. I couldn’t stop my brain from working that way, but I was trying to concentrate on the danger and the horrors ahead.

This had to be a trap, I told myself. Somebody wanted me here. They needed to find out what I knew about the war in Nigeria. It didn’t matter. I had to be here, no matter what.

“Are you ready, Detective?”

The last sound – his voice – wasn’t coming from the cell phone in my hand.

Then the Tiger stepped out from the bushes. “You ready for me?” he asked. “You want the mystery solved?”

Chapter 141

“FINALLY, YOU LISTEN. Only it’s too late, fool,” the killer spoke in a loud, cocky voice as he moved toward me. Two young thugs were at his sides – Houston Rockets, and a blunt-faced boy who aimed a flashlight at my eyes.

“Where’s my family?” I said, staying on message as best I could under the circumstances.

“What difference does it make – one family? You make me laugh. All you pitiful Americans. Everyone laughs at you, all over the world.”

He pulled out a hunting knife and showed the long, thick blade to me. He didn’t say anything about the knife; he didn’t have to. I had seen what it could do at Ellie’s house.

“Where are they?” I asked again.

“You think you get to ask the questions? I can make you scream. Beg for death. Your life is nothing to us. We say ‘ye ye’ – ‘useless, worthless.’ Your family nothing. Ye ye. It means useless.”

The Tiger came up close and I could smell his sweat and the tobacco on his breath. He held the knife close to my throat.

“Say it ‘I am nothing.’ Say it! You want to know about your family?” he screamed in my face. “Say ‘I am nothing!’”

“I am nothing.”

He cut me, across the biceps. I didn’t look at my arm but I knew I was bleeding. I wouldn’t show him weakness. No matter what happened to me now.

“Flesh wound!” he said and laughed. His killer boys found it funny too, sick little bastards. I wanted to take all of them down.

He motioned with the knife. “You want to see your family so bad, come on. You can see what’s left. Ye ye!”

Chapter 142

I STUMBLED FORWARD toward the deserted-looking farmhouse standing in shadowy darkness, and I wondered if Nana, Ali, and Jannie really were in there.

The closer I got, the less likely it seemed to me. I was afraid I had been living in denial all this time – for days now.

Suddenly I found it hard to walk, to stand, even, but I made myself go on, step by step, toward the dark farm that held secrets I maybe didn’t want to know.

There was a narrow dirt path winding up to the house and I trudged along a few paces in front of the Tiger and his killers. Were these the same bloodthirsty devils who had murdered Ellie’s family?

Was the one in the Houston Rockets shirt the bad lieutenant? Had he traveled back and forth from Africa with the Tiger? What was their connection with what was happening in Lagos and down in the Delta? Could a civil war become a world war? Was it starting in Africa this time?

Suddenly I was struck hard in the small of my back. I lurched forward, and almost went down, but somehow I kept my balance.

Then I whirled around and saw Houston Rockets holding the butt end of his rifle. He was going to hit me with it again.

“Stop right there!” I yelled. “You punk, you little coward.” I wanted to go after him so badly, to wring his neck and break it.

The Tiger laughed, either at me or at his vicious killer.

“No, no, Akeem! I want him conscious. Open the front door, Cross. You are the detective. You made it all the way here. Now you will see. Open the door! Solve the great mystery.”

Chapter 143

I TURNED THE rusty knob, then pushed hard on the sticking wood-frame door. It opened with a loud whine.

At first I couldn’t see much, even with the faint glow from the flashlight held behind me.

“Where are they?” I asked.

“Go in an’ see,” said the Tiger. “You wanted this – proof of death.”

I walked into the house and still couldn’t see anyone in there. My heart was racing. Everything in the first room smelled of mildew, of dirt and age, maybe of death.

“I can’t see anything. It’s too dark.”

Suddenly a light went on. A living area was illuminated – two small sofas, easy chairs, standing lamps – but I still didn’t see anyone else in the room.

I whirled to look at the Tiger, who loomed behind me.

“Where are they?” I yelled. “There’s no one in here!”

“Tell me what you know,” he said, seeming serious and businesslike. “What did the she-bitch Adanne tell you? What do you know about the Delta? Tell me!”

I stared back at him. “Do you work for the CIA too? They wanted to know what Adanne told me.”

He laughed out loud. “I work for anybody who pays me. Tell me what you know!”

“I don’t know anything. I found out nothing in Africa. If I had, don’t you think I’d tell you? I saw you kill Adanne Tansi. That’s what I know, only what I saw with my own eyes.”

Someone stepped out of an adjoining hallway. I turned to see Ian Flaherty there in the farmhouse.

“I don’t think he knows anything. You can kill him,” he said to the Tiger. “Then he can be with his family. Go ahead. Get it over with.”

A terrible look crossed my face. “So the CIA was in on this from the beginning?”

Flaherty shrugged. “Not the agency, no. Just me. Kill him now. Get it over with.”

Then another voice was in the living room. “You get to die first, asshole.”

Sampson stepped into view. The car I drove had a tracker on it. John had followed the signal all the way down into Maryland. And he wasn’t alone.

“It will be a dead tie,” said Bree. She came up alongside Sampson. “You and the Tiger both die. Unless you start talking to us. Where are Nana and the kids?”

The punk in the Houston Rockets shirt pumped his gun. Bree shot him in the left cheek under his eye. He screamed, then dropped.

The Tiger dove back out the front door.

“I’m not armed,” said Ian Flaherty and raised both hands in the air. “Don’t shoot me. I don’t know what happened to your family. That wasn’t my doing, none of it. Don’t shoot me!”

I drove my shoulder hard into Flaherty’s chest and then ran past him after the Tiger. Sampson threw me a gun on the way out.

“Use it!” he yelled.

Chapter 144

IT WAS DARK outside, scarily black, and cold as the middle of winter. Just a sliver of moon was visible, with low clouds sliding fast across the night sky. I didn’t see the Tiger anywhere.

But then I caught a wisp of movement to the right of the dirt trail we’d taken to the house.

“Alex!” I heard Bree call behind me. I didn’t call back to her. I ran ahead and hoped she wouldn’t follow, that she couldn’t see me in the darkness. I wanted to get to the Tiger first, just me and him.

“Alex!” Bree shouted again. “Don’t do it this way. Alex! Alex!”

I continued to track movement, the faint outline of a man running up ahead. Or just noise sometimes, the rustle of branches. I was concentrating on that when a shadow flew at me out of the brush.

I spun sideways and fired a shot into the chest of a killer in a white tee and white baseball cap. One of the boys! He grunted and fell over in a heap. I kept on running after the Tiger.

He was moving fast, but so was I. Two downhill skiers on a dark slope. I was gaining on him a little but not enough. I didn’t call out. I just ran with everything I had in me. There was nothing in my mind except catching him. No caution, not anymore. No fear for myself.

I could hear his heavy footfall, and his breathing, which sounded ragged. Still, I didn’t call to him. I held my gun out and I fired twice. I fired low so I wouldn’t kill him by mistake. I needed to keep him alive so I could find out where my family was.

I didn’t think I hit him, but he turned his body, and that caused him to stumble. I put on an extra burst of speed. I was gaining on him now. I could make out more details, see him clearly.

Then I dove for his legs!

I nearly missed, but I caught him around the ankles and he crashed down on his chest and face and hit his head hard on a rock.

I crawled over him on my hands and knees. Then I went up on my haunches and punched down with all my strength.

My fist connected with his jaw. Sweat and blood flew out to the sides.

“Fucker! Traitor!” he yelled at me, growling like a jungle cat under attack.

“My family – where are they? What happened to them?” I shouted.

Then I punched him again, with everything I had, all the anger and rage living inside. This time he lost a tooth, but he was strong, even hurt like this, and he finally threw me off.

Then he was on me! I shielded my head with my arms and he struck my wrist, perhaps breaking it, I thought. But I didn’t make a sound. I arched my body several inches. I managed to grab him around the neck and hold on. I didn’t know where the strength was coming from, or how long it would last.

I tried to head-butt him, and because of the odd angle I was at, I connected with his Adam’s apple. He gagged, then spit phlegm and blood.

“My family!” I yelled again.

“Fuck your family!” he cursed. “Fuck your kids! Fuck you!”

Then he got to the hunting knife. I was still thinking that I had to keep him alive – not that I had to survive this, but that he did. I held his knife hand at the wrist, but I was losing my grip. The fight was turning his way. This was it; this was how I died. I would never know about Nana, Ali, Jannie. That was the worst part, not knowing.

A shot rang in the night.

The Tiger straightened up, but then he came back down at me with the knife. “Die!” he yelled. “Like your family died!”

A second shot struck where his right eye had been glaring at me a second before.

“Where are they?” I yelled again. “Where is my family?”

He didn’t say another word. His good eye was all hatred. The rest of his face was a bloody mess. The Tiger couldn’t answer. He collapsed on me, dead.

“Where are they?” I whispered.

Chapter 145

BREE CAME RUNNING up as I pushed the massive corpse away from me. Even now that he was dead, I still hated the bastard with all my heart and soul. Bree knelt on the ground and hugged me. “I’m sorry, Alex. I’m so sorry. All I saw was the knife. I had to shoot him.”

I kept holding on to her and rocking. “Not your fault. Not your fault.” But then I began to shudder and shake. I knew what I had lost here, knew that the Tiger had been my last chance to find my family.

We left the body and trudged back to the farmhouse. Police cars from the neighboring towns were arriving, and the trees were lit with a crimson-and-blue glare from their domes.

Sampson came out of the farmhouse as we approached. “I’ve gone through every room. There’s no one here. I don’t see any sign of them either, Alex. No blood anywhere, nothing obvious anyway. I don’t think they were ever here.”

I nodded, trying to register crime scene facts and to comprehend their meaning. “I want to look again anyway. I need to look for myself. What about Flaherty?” I suddenly thought to ask.

“The state police have him for now. He showed them he was CIA. I don’t know what happens next. I don’t think they can hold him.”

Chapter 146

WE SEARCHED THE house and a nearby work shed, and a barn – until first light of day.

Then we began to comb the surrounding grounds. At this point there were more than thirty police officers and FBI agents searching at the scene, but it still didn’t seem like enough manpower to me.

Everything was feeling even more unreal now. I was here, but I wasn’t. I had no idea about the passage of time either; it seemed as if I could have been at the farm for a couple of days or for just a few minutes.

Proof of life, I thought. That’s what I want, isn’t it? And if not that, then proof of death.

We found a Nissan minivan that had to be the vehicle the Tiger and his killer thugs had come to the farm in. The van held small arms, clothing, and video games in cardboard boxes.

But there was no sign of blood inside, no rope to tie anyone up with. Nothing to make us believe Nana or the kids had been inside the vehicle.

There were more tire tracks up near the house, but nothing seemed unusual. Judging from the look of the place, I figured it hadn’t been a working farm for at least a couple of years. Town records showed that it belonged to a Leopoldo Gout, but we hadn’t been able to contact the owner yet. Who was Leopoldo Gout? What did he know about what had happened here?

Finally, at around four that afternoon, Bree walked me to my car. Then she drove me home to Fifth Street. I was in no shape to continue looking, she said, and she was right.

I hoped against hope for a good ending, but there was no one there at the house. The mess in the kitchen remained as I had found it, and I left it just that way.

For memories’ sake.

Nana’s kitchen. Her favorite place to be.

Chapter 147

IT WAS ALL so baffling, so incomprehensible, wrong in so many ways.

Bree and I brainstormed for a while, but I couldn’t concentrate. My thinking was too chaotic; I was too crazy in the head, too disturbed and lost. I didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to eat, and I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t even keep my eyes shut the one time I lay down on the living room couch. I thought about taking a drive, then decided no, not right now.

“I’m going to go for a run,” I finally told Bree. “Clear my head. There has to be something I’m missing.”

“Okay, Alex. I’ll be here. Have a good run.”

She didn’t offer to come, understanding that I wanted to be alone now. I did need to be by myself, to plan, to do something that would make some sense of what had happened.

I ran, at first along familiar streets close to my house, but then on the streets winding off Fifth, where I didn’t remember ever coming on foot before.

Finally I was able to concentrate a little better, and I began to think about what Adanne had told me in Lagos. Had her secrets caused any of this – the death of her family, her own murder, whatever had happened to Nana, Ali, and Jannie?

“Alex, I know terrible things,” she’d told me. “I’m writing a story about it. I have to tell somebody what I found out.” She was afraid that something would happen to her.

Well, something had happened to Adanne.

I continued to run and I found that I was getting stronger physically, or moving faster, anyway. What a cruel world this could be sometimes. Jesus. That wasn’t how I looked at things usually. That wasn’t me. Only now it was.

I didn’t notice anything, until a gray van stopped suddenly at the curb and the sliding door flew open. Three men jumped out. Suddenly they were all over me, knocking me down, pushing my face into the grass and dirt on somebody’s lawn.

Then I felt a sting in my thigh.

A needle?

Three men, not boys. Not the Tiger’s team.

Who then?

Who was holding me now?

What did they want?

Chapter 148

THERE WAS A damp cloth over my face, some kind of a hood that reeked of rubbing alcohol. Then I was being pulled to my feet. I’d been unconscious, but I didn’t know for how long.

I had no idea where I was now, but it wasn’t a five-star hotel. I could smell, almost taste, body odor, feces, and urine. The ground under my feet was rough stone, maybe concrete. Did that tell me anything?

“Put your hands flat against the wall and spread your legs. Stay just like that. Don’t move, or you’ll be shot.”

“Where’s my family? Where the hell are they? Who are you?”

Instead of an answer to the question, I heard an amplified whirring sound in the room.

“Stay just like that or you die right here and now. Then you’ll never know about your family. Never is a long time, Dr. Cross. Think about it.”

I thought about other things first. Who had grabbed me off the street in Southeast and was holding me now?

Could it be another Tiger? Somebody else from Nigeria?

The voice didn’t sound like it. No accent. American. Could it be the CIA?

“Where’s my family?” I asked again.

No one answered, and I stayed there with my hands tied and held flat against the wall over my head. I knew this particular kind of torture had a name, wall-standing. I was also made to wear a hood and was subjected to loud noise and sleep deprivation. I’d heard about these torture techniques before. Now I was the victim.

No one answered any of my questions, and I wondered if I was alone. Was I delirious? Was I dreaming all this?

My hands went numb first.

Then I could feel pins and needles stinging my ankles and feet. Then shooting pains moving up and down my legs.

My head began to swim and I thought I was going to pass out.

“I have to pee,” I said. “I have to go.”

No answer.

I held it as long as I could, then let go down my legs, over my bare feet. No one reacted. Was anyone there? Was I alone now?

Wall-standing. Some American government officials had said that it was okay to use techniques like this on suspected terrorists.

Was I a terror suspect? What had I done to deserve this? Who was torturing me?

My hands were completely numb and I badly wanted to sleep. I could think of little else and would have given anything just to lie down on the floor. I couldn’t give in, though.

Wall-standing. I can do this.

I thought about stepping away from the wall and what the consequences might be. I held internal debates with myself. They wouldn’t kill me, would they? What would be the point of it?

Finally, I turned my body so that only one hand was on the wall. Did that count? Was it a violation of the rules?

Immediately I was kicked hard behind the knees! I went down hard on the floor. Cold to the touch. A bed finally!

But I was yanked right back up and thrown hard against the wall. Still, no one spoke. But I assumed the position. Not just my legs were trembling now. Everything was – my entire body was shaking terribly.

Who else was with me in the room?

What did they want from me?

Chapter 149

THEN I WAS talking to Jannie. I was hugging her, and I was so happy that she was all right. “Where’s Ali? Where’s Nana?” I asked in an excited whisper. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Suddenly I came to and realized that I had been sleeping on my feet. Jannie wasn’t here.

It was only me.

I had the sense that I was in the second day of captivity, Or may be the third day. Suddenly I was startled as someone pulled the cloth hood up around my nose, still keeping my eyes in darkness.

“What?” I muttered. “Who are you?” As I spoke, I realized how dry my lips and mouth were.

I was given water, which splashed from somewhere, maybe a bottle, pouring down my throat and all over my face.

“Don’t be greedy, now,” someone said and snickered. A captor with a cruel sense of humor. “Eat this! Slowly. Don’t make yourself choke.”

I was fed three crackers, one right after the other. I didn’t choke, but I was afraid I was going to throw them up as fast as I’d eaten them.

“Water?” I asked. “More water, please?” My throat was tightening up again.

There was a long pause, but then the bottle was returned to my lips. Once more, I drank greedily.

“Too fast,” someone said. “You’ll cramp up. Don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Then I was pushed into position again.

Wall-standing.

Chapter 150

SOMETIME AFTER THAT, I began to seriously hallucinate and I wondered if there was something in the water, or maybe even the crackers I’d eaten.

I was convinced that I was back in Africa and that I was lost somewhere in a vast desert. I knew I was going to die soon, and that didn’t seem like such a bad thing. I actually welcomed death and wondered if I would meet Nana, Jannie, and Ali on the other side. Would Maria be there too? And others I had lost?

I was struck hard in the back and I fell to my knees again.

“You were dreaming – asleep on your feet. That’s not allowed, hotshot.”

“Sorry.”

“Of course you are. Now, would you like this to stop? Would you like to sleep? I’ll bet that you would.”

More than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.

“Where–?” I began to say.

“Right – Where is your fucking family? You’re nothing if not consistent, or is it stubborn? Or stupid? Now, listen to me closely. I will let you sleep. I will give you closure about your family… Are you with me so far?… Are you following what I’m saying?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what? Tell me what you are agreeing to.”

“You’ll tell me about my family. Let me sleep.”

“Provided that what?”

I don’t attack and kill you, you sonofabitch. Where there’s a will…

“Provided I answer your questions.”

“Very good. Would you like more water, hotshot?”

“Yes.”

The cloth hood was lifted halfway and the water bottle was returned to my lips. I drank as much as I wanted to, but then there was silence. It frightened the hell out of me. Had he gone away? The one who knew what had happened to my family? The one who had actually talked to me for a minute or so.

“I saw terrible things in Africa, especially in Sudan,” I said. “I don’t think any of that interests you. A family – the Tansis – were murdered. In Lagos. Maybe because they were talking to me. Or because of what Adanne wrote in the newspaper. You can get her articles.

“Are you there? You wanted me to talk, right? Are you listening now?

“Anyway, Adanne Tansi and I were taken to a prison,” I continued. “She was murdered there. I saw it happen. The Tiger killed her. I don’t know who the other men holding us were. I don’t know who the hell you are!

“Before we got to the prison, Adanne told me about a long piece she was writing – it was to appear in the London Guardian… the Guardian. Maybe some other papers. I’m not sure.

“She had learned that the United States might be manipulating factions in the Delta… to ensure the oil fields would stay in the right hands. Adanne had tapes of interviews. They were taken from her.

“Whoever captured us… must have them now. You have the tapes, don’t you?”

I stopped talking and waited for an answer, any kind of response.

But no one said anything. That was the technique – and guess what? It worked. I kept talking.

“Adanne told me the man known as the Tiger was also being paid by our government. I don’t know if that’s true. You probably know, don’t you?”

I stopped again, then went on. “By the CIA, maybe. The oil companies? By someone from here. Adanne wrote that, and she told another writer, named Ellie Cox. She was killed because of what she knew.

“That’s what I know. That’s what Adanne found out. That’s all of it.”

I stopped again. There was still no response, not a word from the interrogator.

I waited.

I waited.

I waited.

Chapter 151

YOU THINK YOU know what’s going to happen in life. But you never do. And usually the surprises aren’t good ones either.

No one spoke to me for a long time, and I kept waiting for somebody to put a gun to my head, to finally pull the trigger.

Hours after I was interrogated, I heard footsteps in the room where I was being kept. More than one person. At least two.

I pulled myself away from the wall and moved forward. I stumbled and fell to my knees. I pushed myself back up and somebody grabbed my arm.

“Fucker can’t even walk by himself.”

I heard a door being slid open and then I felt cool air hit my face. I was pulled forward and then shoved inside some kind of van or truck.

“Let’s go!” said someone in the front. “We don’t have much time for this.”

For what?

What was happening now?

I had no idea where I was going now, but I knew the chances were good that I was going to die. At certain times in the past, I’d been pleasantly surprised that I’d lasted as long as I had. Still, it felt unreal that I would probably die in the next few minutes. I prayed for my family; and then I said a prayer for myself.

Good, moderately lapsed Christian that I am, I even said a prayer of contrition.

Then the van pulled to a stop. This was it. “End of the line!” I heard one of the bastards say.

I was pushed out and landed hard on the street, and then I heard the vehicle drive away, gravel crunching under spinning tires.

I crawled up and over a curb and then just lay there, partly on grass, partly on a sidewalk or walkway.

They hadn’t killed me.

I was still alive.

Finally I slept.

Chapter 152

THEN I WAS awake; at least I thought I was.

“I’m Officer Maise, with the DC Metro police. Are you all right, sir?” The patrolman spoke to me even as he lifted the hood that covered my head.

“Why are your hands tied? What happened to you?” he asked next.

“I’m Alex Cross. I’m a detective with Major Crimes. I was kidnapped.”

He had the hood all the way off now, but I couldn’t see much of anything yet, not even his face. My eyes were slow to adjust to the light – to the streetlights mostly. It was dark outside. Night.

“Yes, sir, Detective Cross. We’ve all been looking for you,” patrolman Maise said. “Let me call it in.”

“How long… you been looking?”

“Three days.”

Finally, I could see his face, which showed concern but also surprise. He had found me. I was alive. I’d been missing for three days.

“Can you get these binds off?” I asked.

“I’ll call it in first. Then I’ll get the ropes off you.”

“No press,” I told him.

“Of course not. Why would I call the press?” the patrolman asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I’m not thinking straight yet.”

Chapter 153

I WAS TAKEN home by Officer Maise. The house on Fifth Street was dark and obviously empty. Bree had been staying with us off and on, but she had kept her place, so I figured she was at her apartment tonight. Why would she stay here by herself?

I would call Bree soon, but I needed to go inside the house right now. I entered through the sunporch, passing the silent piano on my way, imagining playing it for the kids or, sometimes, just for myself.

No, I guess I was remembering.

The kitchen had been cleaned up since the last time I’d been there. Probably Bree had done it.

Now it was neat, as if nobody lived here.

I continued walking from room to room, everything quiet, and I felt unbearably sad. I turned on lights as I went, feeling like a visitor in my own house. Nothing about my life felt right, or even real. The world had become such a cruel, unsafe place. How had it happened?

How much blame should America take, and did accepting blame really help anybody? Wasn’t it time to stop offering criticism and start providing solutions? It was easy to be a critic; it took no imagination. Problem solving was the bitch.

I finally made it up to my office in the attic, and I sat at my desk, looking down on the street, wondering if there was anyone out there watching me.

Had the interrogators believed me? Did it matter? It struck me that I didn’t really know that much about the world, the larger picture, anyway. But who did these days?

None of us, maybe. That’s what made it so daunting and scary – and took away hope too. That’s what gave us a feeling that everything was out of our control. So who was in control? Somebody had to be – but who? Somebody had to have some answers. Somebody had just imprisoned and tortured me.

I continued to wander around the house. I needed to call people – Damon, who I hoped was still safely stashed away, and Bree and Sampson. But I couldn’t make the calls yet. I didn’t know what to tell any of them, or how to face them.

No, that wasn’t it exactly. The truth was, I didn’t want to put them in danger. Somebody out there might still think that I knew something, something dangerous and important, or maybe just embarrassing to them.

And the really scary part?

They were right.

Chapter 154

I HAD TOLD my interrogators about the possible CIA and Tiger connection, but that wasn’t important to them. They’d let me go, hadn’t they? They could deny all that – and besides, the Tiger was dead. I had cleaned up that particular mess for them.

But the thing I hadn’t told them was the real subject of Adanne’s story: The Americans, the French, the Dutch, the English, and several very important corporations were working with the Chinese in the Delta. China needed oil even more than we did. China was cutting corners. They were ready to pay top dollar for oil and willing to make deals, whatever it took. And because of these business ventures, thousands of Africans had died – men, women, and children. That was the one thing that I knew for certain. It was what Adanne had been researching and writing about.

It was what she had contacted Ellie Cox about; she had talked to Ellie about her research. That was what got her family murdered in Georgetown.

Adanne had told me horror stories during our time together, especially about life and death in Sudan. Rape was the weapon of war there, and girls of age five and up were abused, sometimes by “peacekeepers.” Hundreds and hundreds of mass graves had been discovered but were rarely reported on. Police corruption and brutality, some of which I’d witnessed myself, were rampant – an epidemic, really, and kidnappers were working in the Delta area, especially around Port Harcourt.

On the couch that had been in Nana’s living room since I was a boy, I slept, finally. But not like a baby. That kind of sleep would never come to me again. The truth was, I had accepted that my family was gone, just like so many other families that had been murdered before them. Nothing would ever be the same for me again.

Chapter 155

I WAS WOKEN up early in the morning. Somebody was coming into the house!

I could tell that it was more than one person.

I jumped up from the couch, trying to collect my thoughts in a hurry, to focus on how to get to my gun in the den, when two men burst into the living room!

I was surprised – no, I was shocked – to see Steven Millard and Merrill Snyder from the CIA. Millard spoke first.

“Detective Cross, we didn’t know you were here. We–”

Someone else walked into the living room behind Millard and Snyder. My God, it was Ali.

And he looked all right to me – unharmed.

He looked just incredible-safe, alive, home.

“Ali!” I called and went forward to him. “Ali”

“Daddy! Daddy!” he shrieked as he ran and threw himself into my outstretched arms. My little boy was crying and shaking uncontrollably.

No, no – I was the one crying and shaking. Ali was just holding on to me incredibly tightly. He kept repeating, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” I couldn’t hear the words enough times.

What was happening here? I wondered, looking to the CIA men for answers. Now I saw that Eric Dana and my friend Al Tunney had come to the house as well.

Then I heard, “Alex? Is that you in there? Alex, is that you?”

The voice was Nana’s, but the next person entering the living room was Jannie.

She had her arms stretched out, and she was sobbing as she ran and crashed into my chest. “Oh, my sweet girl, my darling girl,” I whispered as she pressed into me. “Oh, Jannie, sweetheart. Oh, my baby, my baby.”

’I’m okay, we’re okay,“Jannie said.”They kept us in a room. They asked us so many questions. We didn’t know why, Daddy, we didn’t know anything.”

“No, of course you didn’t.”

Then Nana slouched into the living room, and she looked terrible and wonderful all at the same time. She came to us, and then we were all group hugging. The CIA agents just looked on, warmly, it seemed to me, but they said nothing.

“They didn’t harm us,” said Nana. “Thank God, we’re all here together. We’re all safe.”

That was enough for this unbelievable moment, the most emotional one of my life – we were all together, and we were safe.

Chapter 156

THE GOOD MOOD was broken by Steven Millard from the CIA. “Detective Cross, can we have a moment? Whenever you’re ready,” he said.

I went out with Millard, who I took to be the highest-ranking of the CIA representatives at the house. He was the group chief, right? There were four of their vehicles parked outside. Three agents, two of them women, stood around on the sidewalk. I wondered if they had been picked to make it easier for my family when they were brought home.

“Where were they? Where did you find them?” I asked Millard. “Who took them?”

He walked ramrod straight and I decided he had probably been military before he came to the CIA. He seemed very sure of himself, confident about who he was and his role here. So what was it? Who the hell was Steven Millard? What was his role?

“I told you before, Detective, we’re the good guys – we’re still the good guys. Most of us are busting our asses to do a good job and help keep this country safe. Ian Flaherty wasn’t. He sold us out, maybe a couple of times. The last time, it was to the Chinese. Maybe to a bad apple from their basket.”

“My family,” I said, reminding Millard of my question.

“We had Flaherty under surveillance from the moment he reached Washington. Trust me on that one. He led us to your family. I don’t know if they would’ve been released. A couple of mercenaries were with them – they were working with Flaherty. Flaherty was working for the Chinese. Your family was questioned, but mostly they were just insurance, in case it was needed. Flaherty was afraid you might have found out about him in Lagos.”

I shook my head. “Bribery has become a way of life there. Adanne Tansi knew the Chinese were involved with oil trading in the Delta. Thousands of Nigerians have been murdered down there, as you know.”

“Yes, we know,” said Millard.

“And you knew the civil war was coming, but you did nothing to stop it.”

“There was nothing we could do. We don’t need another Iraq, do we?”

I stared into his eyes. “Where’s Flaherty now?”

Millard didn’t flinch as he answered. “We have him. We’re talking to him now. Eventually he’ll talk to us. We know that Mr. Sowande, your Tiger, worked for him.”

“That’s all you can tell me?”

Millard shook his head. “No. I can tell you this. Go home to your family, Detective Cross. They’re special. You’ve been away from them too much.”

I nodded at Millard. He wasn’t going to level with me, so there was nothing else to say. I turned around and began to walk back to my house.

He was right about one thing: My family was special.

They were waiting for me on the porch, and as I got close, another dark sedan pulled up in front. Damon stepped out, and he looked my way. He half waved, half saluted.

But then Damon came running, and so did I.

The Cross family was back together again. Maybe that was all that mattered.