Double Cross

Chapter 66

AFTER THE SPEECH, a brief Q amp;A, and some unexpectedly warm applause, I was installed by Wally Walewski behind a wobbly card table in the reception area. Check.

Anyone who wanted to could meet me here, get a book signed, that kind of thing. For the first twenty minutes, I shook hands, made pleasant small talk, and signed everything from books to the palm of one woman’s hand. Almost everybody was nice. Polite too. As far as I could tell, not a serial killer in the bunch.

The only request I refused was a T-shirt that said DCAK on the front and Keep on living, fuckers across the back.

“How’s it going over there?” I finally heard through my acoustic tube earpiece.

I looked down the line, where Bree was standing with dozens of fans who were still waiting patiently, chatting with one another. “Quiet so far,” I said. “Strange but nice enough people. Unfortunately.”

Bree turned her back away from the line and spoke low. “That sucks. Okay, then… Sampson, I’m going to take another quick swing through the crowd. I’ll check back in with you when we’re at the front door. Hopefully, somebody here isn’t all that nice.”

I heard John’s reply in my ear. “Sounds good to me. Alex, you riding home with us? Or hoping to get lucky with one of your fans?” I just smiled at the next person in line.

“I’ll be back soon,” Bree said, and disappeared into the crowd. “You be good, now.”

“I’ll try my best.”

A few minutes later, as I was signing a book, I felt a presence behind me.

When I looked up, though, no one was there. But I was sure someone had been.

“She left you a note.”

The woman across the table from me pointed to a piece of paper at my elbow. I unfolded it and saw a printout from a Web page.

Black background, bold white letters. I read the message.

Guess again, smart guy. I’m not psychotic! And I’m not dumb!

See you back in DC, where it’s all happening.

In fact, you’re missing the show.