James PATTERSON - Cross Country

“I think so. Don’t tell them anything, Alex. More people will die. Don’t tell them a thing I told you. Do you promise? Alex?”

BLUE-UNIFORMED COPS WERE running up on either side of our car. When they threw open the doors and grabbed at us, Adanne came out easily. I was a lot more work for them.

When I was finally pulled from the front seat, I came up swinging, crunching a straight right fist into somebody’s chin. It felt good.

Then two of them flung me down hard onto the pavement. That didn’t feel so good. Something popped in my shoulder.

Jesus!

My arm flew up reflexively, and a wave of pain crashed over me, even as I felt the joint slip back into place. I wasn’t sure if I could move the arm again, though. How could I fight them now?

The police were yelling on all sides, at least four of them screaming in a mishmash of languages I couldn’t understand.

Then one of them fired his service revolver into the air to make his point crystal clear.

Adanne was shouting too. “I’m with the Guardianl I’m a reporter. Press!”

I could see under the car to where she was lying facedown on the other side. There were pairs of black shoes moving all around her. Then a pistol was pointed at her head.

But that didn’t stop her from yelling at them. “Adanne Tansi! I’m with the Guardian]”

She shouted it over and over, not just for them, but for anyone who could hear in the neighborhood. We had already stopped traffic on both sides of the street.

With any luck, Adanne had just gone from anonymous suspect to known entity. It was a good move – especially given her state of mind after what had happened at her parents’ house.

I saw two of the cops who were standing over me exchange a look. One reached down to pull my hands back and cuff me. When he did, my shoulder felt like it was being torn in half.

Then I was punched and kicked in the small of the back. Everything was getting hazy and surreal again in a hurry. I couldn’t let myself black out.

“Alex!” Adanne’s voice came again. “Alex! I’m over here! Alex!”

I turned my head to look for her. The heel of a shoe came down on my cheek and temple. But I saw her anyway. The police were dragging her away. Past a standard cruiser to an unmarked black sedan.

Going where?

“She’s with the Guardlan!” I yelled at the top of my voice. “She’s with the Guardian! She’s press!”

Adanne kicked and twisted, and I tried to roll the two cops off my back.

But it was too little too late. Adanne was still shouting when they stuffed her into the black sedan, slammed the door, and drove off in a hurry.

A FEVERED VOICE inside my head was screaming for me to help Adanne, but I knew I should think things through before I tried anything.

I had no idea, and no way to find out, if the car they had put me in was following Adanne’s. I was in a police unit, though. Small and cramped by DC standards. Smelling strongly of tobacco and sweat and somebody’s urine. Were these men policemen?

I sat sideways on a ripped vinyl seat in back. My hands were cuffed, and a rusted metal security grate was a few inches from my face. My shoulder throbbed and I was afraid it was broken. But that was the least of my worries right now. What I cared about most was Adanne and what was happening to her.

“Where did they take her?” I asked. The two uniforms in front wouldn’t even turn to look at me. I couldn’t provoke them.

“Talk to me. Tell me where we’re going,” I demanded to know.

Then I saw for myself, and it couldn’t have been any worse.

The first thing I recognized was the signpost at the turn-off for Kirikiri. Then the familiar concrete walls and razor wire crisscrossing the top.

Oh hell, no.

I felt like I’d fallen into some kind of hell on earth. Going in here the first time had been bad enough, but heading back when I knew what to expect?

It took the two cops and two more prison guards to get me out of the car and inside the jail.

I thought they would drag me up to the wards but we went down instead. Down couldn’t be good. Where was Adanne? Was she here too?

My feet bumped over stone steps, then onto the compacted dirt floor of a barely lit corridor. It looked and smelled like the cell block upstairs, but when we passed through one of the reinforced steel doors, I saw they all opened onto the same enormous space.

There was a low ceiling that dripped some kind of sludge, and a row of retrofitted support columns ran right down the middle of the room. They extended into deep shadows on either side.

A blank space. For torture? Interrogation? Execution?

Everything was left to the imagination – on purpose, I was sure.

The police and guards left me there, with my hands cuffed tightly behind my back, secured around one of the posts. The column was rusted steel, about four inches thick, and going nowhere. Just like me.

I stopped struggling as soon as they walked away. Better to save my strength, I figured.

I didn’t know who wanted me here – the Tiger? The police? The government?

Someone else?

A multinational corporation, for God’s sake? Maybe that was it. Anything was possible here.

If I was extraordinarily lucky, Flaherty would come looking for me again; and if I was even luckier, he’d be able to find me down here. But that could take days, and then more time to find Adanne.

If she was still alive.

If they hadn’t gotten the secrets out of her.

If…if…if…

A LIGHT CAME on… two lights actually.

Quickly, one after the other.

I didn’t know how many hours had passed. Or what time of day it was. I knew that I hadn’t slept.

The man I now thought of as the police commander, the one I’d hit with Adanne’s car, stood by one of the doors.

His hand was still on the wall switch. Two single-bulb fixtures shone brightly overhead. They weren’t meant to be easy on the eyes, or the brain, or the soul.

“Tell me what you know about the Tiger,” he said as he strode forward. I noticed he’d changed suits – and that there was a rectangle of gauze taped to his forehead.

“Where’s Adanne Tansi?” I said.

“Don’t make me cross, Cross.” The commander chuckled softly; he’d been a jackass joker the last time too, I remembered. The accent was Yoruban and the voice was calm. Too calm. He had more self-control than I would have thought he should, given that I’d tried to run him over and put tire marks on his ugly face.

“Just tell me if she’s alive,” I said. “That’s all I need to hear from you.”

“She’s alive. Somewhat.” He spread his hands. “Now – the killer you chased here? What do you know? Are you CIA? Or are you working with her? The reporter?”

At least he wanted something from me. Quid pro quo was better than nothing, I guess.

“There are lots of Tigers, killers for hire,” I said. “You know that. The one I’m after is physically large. He operates internationally, with teams in Lagos and Washington at the very least. I believe his name is Sowande.

“As of two days ago, he was in South Darfur. I don’t know where the hell he is now.” I paused and stared into his eyes.

“I’m not CIA, definitely not CIA. Tell me where she is.”

His shoulders barely shrugged. “She’s here. At Kirikiri. No need to worry about her. She’s close by. Look! Look at that. There she is now. The news reporter is here.”

A POLICE OFFICER I didn’t recognize was pushing Adanne into the room. She shuffled ahead of him, with a wad of tape over her mouth. Blood streaked both her cheeks.