James Patterson: Cat & Mouse

The woman nodded once, but didn’t sound too convinced. “They do, don’t they. I’m sure you’re right. I hope so. That’s my prayer.”

Two D.C. police detectives were stepping inside the club car. Their faces were screwed tight. Now it would get interesting. He could see more cops approaching through the dining car, which was just one car ahead. There had to be hundreds of cops inside the terminal now. It was showtime. Act Two.

“I’m from Wilmington, Delaware. Wilmington ’s home.” Soneji kept talking to the woman. “Otherwise I’d have left the station already. That’s if they let us back upstairs.”

“They won’t. I tried,” the woman told him. Her eyes were frozen, locked in an odd place. He loved that look. It was hard for Soneji to glance away, to focus on the approaching policemen and the threat they might present.

“We need to see identifications from everyone,” one of the detectives was announcing. He had a deep, no-nonsense voice that got everybody’s attention. “Have IDs with pictures out when we come through. Thank you.”

The two detectives got to his row of seats. This was it, wasn’t it? Funny, he didn’t feel much of anything. He was ready to take both cops out.

Soneji controlled his breathing and also his heartbeat. Control, that was the ticket. He had control over the muscles in his face, and especially his eyes. He’d changed the color of his eyes for today. Changed his fair color from blond to gray. Changed the shape of his face. He looked soft, bloated, as harmless as your average traveling salesman.

He showed a driver’s license and Amex card in the name of Neil Stuart from Wilmington, Delaware. He also had a Visa card and a picture ID for the Sports Club in Wilmington. There was nothing memorable about the way he looked. Just another business sheep.

The detectives were checking his ID when Soneji spotted Alex Cross outside the train car. Make my day.

Cross was coming his way, and he was peering in through the windows at passengers. Cross was still looking pretty good. He was six three and well built. He carried himself like an athlete, and looked younger than forty-one.

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, what a mindblower. Trip the goddamn light fantastic. I’m right here, Cross. You could almost touch me if you wanted to. Look in at me. Look at me, Cross. I command you to look at me now!

The tremendous anger and fury growing inside him was dangerous, Soneji knew. He could wait until Alex Cross was right on top of him, then pop up and put half a dozen shots into his face.

Six head shots. Each of the six would be well deserved for what Cross had done to him. Cross had ruined his life-no, Alex Cross had destroyed him. Cross was the reason all of this was happening now. Cross was to blame for the murders in the train station. It was all Alex Cross’s fault.

Cross, Cross, Cross! Was this the end now? Was this the big finale? How could it be?

Cross looked so almighty as he walked, so above-the-fray. He had to give that to Cross. He was two or three inches taller than the other cops, smooth brown skin. Sugar-that’s what his friend Sampson called him.

Well-he had a surprise for Sugar. Big unexpected surprise. Mindscrewer for the ages surprise.

If you catch me, Dr. Cross-you catch yourself. Do you understand that? Don’t worry-you will soon enough.

“Thank you, Mr. Stuart,” said the detective as he handed Soneji back his credit card and the Delaware driver’s license.

Soneji nodded and offered a thin smile to the detective, and then his eyes flicked back to the window.

Alex Cross was right there. Don’t look so humble, Cross. You’re not that great.

He wanted to start shooting now. He was in heat. He experienced something like hot flashes. He could do Alex Cross right now. There was no doubt about it. He hated that face, that walk, everything about the doctor-detective.

Alex Cross slowed his step. Then Cross looked right in at him. He was five feet away.

Gary Soneji slowly moved his eyes up to Cross, then very naturally over to the other detectives, then back to Cross.

Hello, Sugar.

Cross didn’t recognize him. How could he? The detective looked right at his face-then he moved on. He kept on walking down the platform, picking up speed.

Cross had his back to him and it was an almost irresistibly inviting target. A detective up ahead was calling to him, motioning for Cross to come. He loved the idea of shooting Cross in the back. A cowardly murder, that was the best. That’s what people really hated.

Then Soneji relaxed back into his train seat.

Cross didn’t recognize me. I’m that good. I’m the best he’s ever faced by far. I’ll prove it, too.

Make no mistake about it. I will win.

I am going to murder Alex Cross and his family, and no one can stop it from happening.

IT WAS past five-thirty in the evening before I even got to think about leaving Union Station. I’d been trapped inside all day, talking to witnesses, talking to Ballistics, the medical examiner, making rough sketches of the murder scene in my notepad. Sampson was pacing from about four o’clock on. I could see he was ready to blow out of there, but he was used to my thoroughness.

The FBI had arrived, and I’d gotten a call from Kyle Craig, who had stayed down in Quantico working on Mr. Smith. There was a mob of news reporters outside the terminal. How could it get any worse? I kept thinking, the train has left the station. It was one of those wordplays that gets in your head and won’t leave.

I was bleary-eyed and bone weary by day’s end, but also as sad as I remembered being at a homicide scene. Of course this was no ordinary homicide scene. I had put Soneji away, but somehow I felt responsible that he was out again.

Soneji was nothing if not methodical: He had wanted me at Union Station. Why, though? The answer to that question still wasn’t apparent to me.

I finally snuck out of the station through the tunnels, to avoid the press and whatnot. I went home and showered and changed into fresh clothes.

That helped a little. I lay on my bed and shut my eyes for ten minutes. I needed to clear my head of everything that had happened on this day.

It wasn’t working worth a damn. I thought of calling off the night with Christine Johnson. A voice of warning was in my head. Don’t blow it. Don’t scare her about The Job. She’s the one. I already sensed that Christine had problems with my work as a homicide detective. I couldn’t blame her, especially not today.

Rosie the cat came in to visit. She cuddled against my chest. “Cats are like Baptists,” I whispered to her. “You know they raise hell, but you can’t ever catch them at it.” Rosie purred agreement and chuckled to herself. We’re friends like that.

When I finally came downstairs, I got “the business” from my kids. Even Rosie joined in the fun, racing around the living room like the family’s designated cheerleader.

“You look so nice, Daddy. You look beautiful.” Jannie winked and gave me the A-OK sign.

She was being sincere, but she was also getting a large charge out of my “date” for the night. She obviously delighted in the idea of my getting all dolled up just to see the principal from her school.

Damon was even worse. He saw me coming down the stairs and started giggling. Once he started, he couldn’t stop. He mumbled, “beautiful.”

“I’ll get you for this,” I told him. “Ten times over, maybe a hundred times. Wait until you bring somebody home to meet your pops. Your day will come.”

“It’s worth it,” Damon said, and continued to laugh like the little madman that he can be. His antics got Jannie going so bad that she was finally rolling around on the carpet. Rosie hopped back and forth over the two of them.