James PATTERSON: The Big Bad Wolf

‘I know where it is.’

Class dismissed , I was thinking as I ran to the helipad. I could hear the CRACK, CRACK of weapons being fired at the shooting range. Then I was on board the helicopter and strapping in. Less than twenty minutes later, the Bell helicopter touched down in Baltimore. I still hadn’t gotten over my meeting with SSA Nooney. Did he understand that I hadn’t asked for this assignment? I didn’t even know why I was in Baltimore.

Two agents in a dark blue sedan were waiting for me. One of them, Jim Heekin, took charge immediately, and also put me in my place. ‘You must be the FNG,’ he said as we shook hands.

I wasn’t familiar with what the letters stood for, so I asked Heekin what they meant as we got into the car.

He smiled, and so did his partner. ‘The Fucking New Guy,’ he said.

‘What we have so far is a bad deal. And it’s hot,’ Heekin continued. ‘City of Baltimore homicide detective is involved. Probably why they wanted you here. He’s holed up in his own house. Most of his immediate family’s in there with him. We don’t know if he’s suicidal, homicidal, or both, but he’s apparently taken the family hostage. Seems familiar with a situation created by a police officer last year in south Jersey. This officer’s family was gathered together for his father’s birthday party. Some birthday party.’

‘Do we know how many are in the house with him?’ I asked.

Heekin shook his head. ‘Best guess, at least a dozen, including a couple of children. Detective won’t let us talk to any of the family members, and he won’t answer our questions. Most of the people in the neighborhood don’t want us here either.’

‘What’s his name?’ I asked as I jotted down a few notes to myself. I couldn’t believe I was about to get involved in a hostage negotiation. It still didn’t make any sense to me – and then it did .

‘His name is Dennis Coulter.’

I looked up in surprise. ‘I know Dennis Coulter. I worked a murder case with him. Shared a bushel of crabs at Obrychi’s once upon a time.’

‘We know,’ said Agent Heekin. ‘He asked for you.’

D etective Coulter had asked for me. What the hell was that all about? I hadn’t known we were so close. Because we weren’t! I’d met him only a couple of times. We were friendly, but not exactly friends. So why did Dennis Coulter want me here?

A while back, I had worked with Dennis Coulter on an investigation of drug dealers who were trying to connect, and control, the trade in D.C. and Baltimore and everything in between. I’d found Coulter to be tough, very egotistical, but good at his job. I remembered he was a big Eubie Blake fan, and that Blake was from Baltimore.

Coulter and his hostages were huddled somewhere inside the house, a gray wood shingle colonial, on Ailsa Avenue in Lauraville, in the northeast part of Baltimore. The Venetian blinds were tightly closed, and what was going on behind the front door was anybody’s guess. Three stone steps climbed to the porch where a rocking chair and a wooden glider sat. The house had been painted recently, which suggested to me that Coulter probably hadn’t been expecting trouble in his life. So what happened?

Several dozen Baltimore P.D., including SWAT team members, had surrounded the house. Weapons were drawn and, in some cases, aimed at the windows and the front door. The Baltimore police helicopter unit Foxtrot had responded.

Not good .

I already had one idea. ‘What do you think about everybody lowering their guns for starters?’ I asked the field commander from the Baltimore P.D. ‘He hasn’t fired on anybody, has he?’

The field commander and SWAT team leader conferred briefly, and then weapons around the perimeter were lowered, at least the ones I could see. Meanwhile, one of the Foxtrot helicopters continued to hover close to the house.

I turned to the commander again. I needed him on my side. ‘Thank you, Lieutenant. Have you been talking to him?’

He pointed to a man crouched behind a cruiser. ‘Detective Fescoe has the honor. He’s been on the horn with Coulter for about an hour.’

I made a point of walking over to Detective Fescoe and introducing myself. ‘Mick Fescoe,’ he said, but didn’t seem overjoyed to meet me. ‘Heard you were coming. We’re fine here.’

‘This intrusion isn’t my idea,’ I told him. ‘I just left the force in D.C. I don’t want to get in anybody’s way.’

‘So, don’t,’ Fescoe said. He was a slender, wiry man who looked as if he might have played some ball at one time. He moved like it.

I rubbed my hand over my chin. ‘Any idea why he asked for me? I don’t know him that well.’

Fescoe’s eyes drifted toward the house. ‘Says he’s being set up by Internal Affairs. Doesn’t trust anybody connected to the Baltimore P.D. He knew you’d gone over to the FBI recently.’

‘Would you tell him I’m here. But also tell him I’m being briefed now. I want to hear how he sounds, before I talk to him.’

Fescoe nodded, then he called into the house. It rang several times before it was picked up.

‘Agent Cross has just arrived, Dennis. He’s being briefed now,’ said Fescoe.

‘Like hell he is. Get him on the hook. Don’t make me shoot in here. I’m getting close to creating a real problem. Get him now !’

Fescoe handed me the phone and I spoke into it. ‘Dennis, this is Alex Cross. I’m here. I did want to be briefed first.’

‘This really Alex Cross?’ Coulter asked and sounded surprised.

‘Yeah, it’s me. I don’t know too many of the details. Except you say you’re being set up by Internal Affairs.’

‘I don’t just say it, I am being set up. I can tell you why, too. I’ll brief you. That way you’ll hear it straight.’

‘All right,’ I told him. ‘I’m on your side so far. I know you, Dennis. I don’t know Baltimore Internal Affairs.’

Coulter cut me off. ‘I want you to listen to me . Don’t talk. Just hear me out.’

‘All right,’ I said. ‘I’m listening.’

I sat down on the ground behind a Baltimore P.D. cruiser, and I got ready to listen to the armed man who was supposedly holding a dozen of his family members hostage. Jesus , I was back on The Job again.

‘They want to kill me,’ Dennis Coulter began. ‘The Baltimore P.D. has me in its crosshairs.’

P op!

I jumped. Someone had pulled open a can of soda and tapped me on the shoulder with it.

I looked up to see none other than Ned Mahoney, from the Hostage Rescue Team at Quantico, handing me a caffeine-free Diet Coke. I had taken a couple of classes from him during orientation. He knew his stuff – in the classroom anyway.

‘Welcome to my private hell,’ I said. ‘What am I doing here, by the way?’

Mahoney winked at me, and dropped down beside me.

‘You’re a rising star, or maybe a risen star. You know the drill. Get him talking. Keep him talking,’ said Mahoney. ‘We hear you’re real good at this.’

‘So what are you doing here?’ I asked.

‘What do you think? Watching, studying your technique. You’re the Director’s boy, right? He thinks you’re gifted.’

I took a sip of soda, then pressed the cold can to my forehead. Hell of an introduction to the FBI for the FNG.

‘Dennis, who wants to kill you?’ I spoke into the cell phone again. ‘Tell me all you can about what’s going on here. I also need to ask about your family. Is everybody all right in there?’

Coulter bristled. ‘Hey! Let’s not waste time on a lot of bullshit negotiation crap. I’m about to be executed. That’s what this is. Make no mistake. Look around you, man. It’s an execution.’