James Patterson - I, Alex Cross

Eventually, he came upon Maggie in the Hall of Nations, schmoozing the new Democratic governor from Georgia and his greyhound-faced wife, whose name Teddy could never remember.

"Speak of the devil." Maggie hooked her arm into his. "Hello, darling. We were just talking about you. Douglas, Charlotte, and I."

"Hello Doug, Charlotte. All good things, I hope," he said, and the others laughed as though it were expected of them, which it was.

"Your wife was just telling us you're quite the equestrian," the governor said.

"Ah," Teddy answered. "My little-known secret. I have so few these days. I don't like those to get out."

"We'll have to have you down to the farm sometime. We've got some beautiful trails around our summer place."

"That sounds absolutely terrific – the farm," he said, telling the kind of lie that never hurt anyone. "And the president and I will have to have you overnight at the White House one of these days." He looked over at Maggie, smiling placidly. "Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

DRIVING IN FROM the airport that night, Ned Mahoney and I were part of an emergency conference call that had been pulled together while we were still in the air. Theodore "Teddy" Vance was known to be with his wife, the president of the United States, at the Kennedy Center Honors. We had him. The question on the table was how to proceed.

Most of the resistance was from Secret Service, who ironically had the least say in this decision, except maybe for me. Their deputy director of investigations, Angela Riordan, was doing most of the talking.

"We're certainly not going to put up with any of this habeas grabbus crap, understand? This is the First Gentleman of the United States we're talking about. If the Bureau even thinks about crossing our security line, he'll be gone before anyone gets inside the building. Do I need to repeat myself?"

"We have no issue with that, Angela." This was Luke Hamel, the Bureau's assistant director in charge on the case before it got moved to Charlottesville. We also had the FBI director himself, Ron Burns, listening in with a few of their people from legal. "No one's talking arrest yet," Hamel went on. "We just want to speak with him. He's a person of interest at this point."

"Then there's no reason it can't wait until tomorrow." I recognized the slight accent of Vance's personal attorney, Raj Doshi, who was driving in from Maryland as we spoke.

"Actually, there's a very good reason," I said. "People have already died under this cover-up. Not doing anything tonight means risking more lives, and the fact that we're having this conversation only increases that risk."

"Excuse me – Detective Cross, was it?" Riordan asked. "We're not going to make tactical decisions here based on your gut feelings or your paranoia."

"With all due respect, you have no idea if I'm being paranoid or not," I said. I didn't want to put too fine a point on it, but Ned Mahoney and I were holding more cards here than anyone else on the call.

Ultimately, I think Riordan recognized her lack of options, and she agreed to pull Vance in for questioning.

When Doshi insisted the interview take place off site, the FBI had no objection to the demand. They quickly settled on the Eisenhower Building.

"This is Cross again," I said into the speaker. "Can I assume Dan Cormorant is already on duty at the Kennedy Center?"

"Why do you want to know?" It was Agent Silo Ridge this time; I hadn't even realized he was on the line.

"Cormorant's been my Secret Service contact on Zeus," I said. "I'd be surprised if he didn't have information we could use."

The full truth was that I had some questions of my own for Cormorant, and I wanted to see him face-to-face before I said anything I might regret later.

They never answered me, but it didn't matter. I'd find out soon enough. I could see the Kennedy Center looming straight ahead.

THERE HAD PROBABLY never been a takedown like this one, not in the annals of police history, definitely not in my police history.

We convened on the Kennedy Center 's River Terrace just outside the Grand Foyer, where the party was in full swing. I'd already seen a handful of movie stars floating by the sixty-foot-high windows, but as yet there was no sign of Teddy Vance. No sign of Zeus?

Luke Hamel from the Bureau had brought another senior agent with him, James Walsh, whom I didn't recognize and didn't think I'd met before. My old boss Ron Burns was keeping his distance on this one, but he'd also made sure there was a place here for me and Mahoney. I'd return the favor someday if I could.

From Secret Service, we had Riordan and Ridge in addition to the operational team already on site. That meant agents in tuxes paired up on all the doors, a heavy MPD presence down at street level, and a chopper and EMTs on standby, all standard for any presidential event.

Other than the White House, there wasn't a more secure building in Washington tonight. I could feel the tension spreading everywhere in my body.

Once we were in place, Riordan put the center on a temporary "crash condition" – no one in or out until the First Gentleman was away. Next, traffic was routed away from the building. A lot of drivers were about to be seriously inconvenienced, but that was the least of our problems right now.

The First Gentleman was in all probability a murderer.

Less than a minute passed before Dan Cormorant stepped outside in his tux. He reported straight to Angela Riordan and ignored everyone else.

"Ma'am. We're good to go inside."

"All right. I want a nice, quiet exit on this, understood, Dan? Montana will come out this way, and we'll proceed to the EEOB."

"Yes, ma'am."

He caught me staring at him as he turned to go. I didn't know how much Cormorant had already been told, but my presence spoke for itself. He'd have to know what this was about. Still, I couldn't get a read on him, and he was already headed back in, radioing orders into his cuff.

"This is Cormorant. I need Montana detail ready to move, on my lead. Command, we're going to need full transport from the North Plaza. Immediately ."

On instinct, I leaned over and spoke quietly to Agent Ridge.

"You should go in with him," I said.

He didn't look at me. "Thanks for the tip, Detective."

"I'm serious," I told him, but he put a hand out to keep me back, more like a straight-arm.

"Cross, someday you're going to be king of the world, but in the meantime, just keep your damn shirt on."

I was finding that hard to do. I didn't like this scenario one bit – not if Theodore Vance really was our killer.

SOMETHING WAS WRONG. Teddy could feel the tension coming off Cormorant before the Secret Service agent even spoke into his ear. "Excuse me, sir. Would you come with me, please? It's kind of important."

Maggie saw it too, and knew exactly how to respond. She smiled her best Big Party smile. "Don't keep him long now, Dan, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Governor, hold that thought," Teddy told his and Maggie's guest. "I'll be right back."

Then, not knowing quite why, he leaned in and kissed his wife on the cheek. "I love you, darling," he whispered, and she winked back.

Sweet Maggie. The world would probably never know how good this woman could be. Not that he really loved her, exactly, or could even tell himself what that was supposed to feel like. But it worked. They worked. However much about him she would never know, it couldn't erase what was true between them. Sum of the parts and all that. Complicated, like all relationships.

He double-stepped to come alongside the agent as they moved across the foyer.