Merry Christmas, Alex Cross

CHAPTER 99

Fifteen minutes later, at a quarter to one in the morning, I stood in the snow on the roof of the detention center with Ned Mahoney, waiting for a U.S. Marine helicopter that was coming in from Quantico loaded with members of the Critical Incident Response Group.

“We’ve got a location on the train,” Mahoney said. “It’s almost to Trenton. We’ll stop it somewhere north of there, someplace rural.”

“What if it’s booby-trapped?” I asked.

“Believe me, we’ll be wearing full HAZMAT gear,” Mahoney said. “Sounds sporty, doesn’t it? I can’t believe you don’t want to be there to see this through.”

I’d known Mahoney for nearly fifteen years, worked side by side with him for several of those years, had been to his home too many times to count, knew all the doings of his wife and children. And yet right then, he seemed a stranger to me.

“I didn’t like what went on in that room, Ned,” I said.

“You think I did, Alex?” he shot back.

“It’s beneath us.”

“It is,” he agreed, pain rippling through his face. “Shows you that you’ve got to meet people like that on their own turf, using their rules. It’s a sad thing to say, but true.”

“They were kids.”

“They were leverage against an insane scheme.”

I heard the thumping of the helicopter coming, saw the spotlight on its belly. “What if her attorney finds out, Ned? Demands to see a tape of the interrogation. Everything Hala told us will be fruit of the poisoned tree, disallowed in court.”

“Not everything has to play out in court,” Mahoney replied coldly. “Besides, when I raised my hand there just before we began, the battery pack on the camera in the observation booth mysteriously fell off. Anything that went on beyond that is baseless hearsay on Dr. Al Dossari’s part, her word against ours, and who is a judge going to trust, Alex? A twenty-year veteran of the FBI and the legendary Dr. Alex Cross, or a madwoman willing to send nerve gas into Manhattan?”

I gazed at him as if he were transforming before my eyes, seeing new dimensions to his character. “I never pegged you as a master strategist, Ned.”

He raised his arm to block the snow being thrown up by the helicopter, yelled, “I have my moments. You can take my car home if you’re good to drive.”

“I’ll make it,” I said and accepted the keys as the chopper settled into the snow. “Ned?”

“What’s that, Alex?”

“Be careful,” I said. “You’ve got a lot of people to come back to.”

Mahoney locked gazes with me, understanding. He shook my hand. “Thanks, Alex. It means a lot.”