James Patterson - Double Cross

Anthony had a latte and a sweet roll as he waited for Sandy, who licked at the whipped-cream topping before she spoke. “He didn’t even offer me any of his,” she said, and frowned. “And he had two coffees.”

“He was angry at you for violating his space. So tell me everything. What did he say? I want to hear the pathetic details.”

Sandy smacked her lips and licked them clean before she spoke. “Well, as he always is, Dr. Cross was very empathetic, maybe even sympathetic. To me-not to you, you cad. And honest, I guess you’d call it. He finally admitted that he has a huge crush on me. Who wouldn’t? But here’s the real surprise. He wants to suck your cock!”

They both laughed and sipped their steaming drinks, then laughed some more. Finally Anthony leaned in close to Sandy. “He’s not alone on that, is he? Hey, you think he has any idea what we’re up to? What this whole thing is about?”

Sandy shook her head. “ Not … a … clue . I’m quite sure of it.”

“You are? And that’s because…?”

“We’re way too good at what we do. We’re just such brilliant actors, you and I. Of course, you already know that. And I know that. Plus, the script is fabulous.”

Anthony smiled. “We are very good, aren’t we? We could fool just about anyone.”

“Make them believe anything we wanted to. Watch this.”

Sandy got up and sat on Anthony’s lap, facing him. The two of them began to make out, to kiss with their tongues deep in each other’s mouth. Their hands wandered all over, and then Sandy began to grind her pelvis against Anthony.

“Get a room,” said a serious-looking middle-aged woman using a computer a couple of tables away. “Please. I don’t need this in the morning.”

“I agree,” volunteered someone else. “Grow up and act your ages, for God’s sake.”

Sandy whispered in Anthony’s ear, “See? They think we’re still lovers.”

Then she stood and pulled Anthony up too. “Don’t any of you sweat it!” she said in a loud voice. “For God’s sake-he’s my brother !”

They were still laughing when they got outside the coffee shop.

“That was great, so much fun!” Sandy howled and did a little victory dance. Then she waved at the people inside, who were still watching through the windows.

“It was a hoot!” Anthony agreed. Then he got more serious. “I got a message from Kyle Craig. He says he can’t wait to meet DCAK.”

“Well,” said Sandy, “I can’t wait to meet the master of disaster.”

They both laughed at that one, then shared another tongue kiss for their audience in the coffee shop.

“We are so bad .” Sandy giggled.

MAYBE WE WOULD FINALLY catch some kind of break tonight, because God knows we needed one. The Unhinged Tour people had been more than enthusiastic about making room for the profiler and psychologist Dr. Alex Cross on their schedule, just as Kitz had predicted they would. What I couldn’t have anticipated was the kind of reception I would get when we actually showed up.

The event was booked into a worn, barely serviceable Best Western in the southeast police district of Baltimore, just off I-95 and, appropriately enough, across the street from a cemetery. We parked in the back, close to the hotel’s conference-center entrance, then headed inside together.

“Safety in numbers,” Bree said with a hollow laugh.

The reception area was crowded with a noisy, carnival-like mix of people. The majority of them look fairly ordinary, maybe a little redneck , I thought. The others, in dark clothes and skin art, were like the show that the rest had come to see.

Vendors at tables along the wall hawked everything from mug-shot coffee cups to authentic crime-scene artifacts to CDs by groups such as Death Angel and What’s for Lunch?

Bree, Sampson, and I had just gotten in the front door when somebody tapped me on the shoulder. My hand slid down close to my Glock.

The guy behind me, all sideburns and tattoos, grinned and elbowed his girlfriend when I turned around. “See? I told you it was him.” The two of them were attached by a heavy chain strung between the black leather collars around their necks.

“Alex Cross, right?” He reached out and shook my hand, and I could already feel Bree and Sampson gearing up to give me a hard time. “There’s a picture of you on the poster -”

“Poster?” I said.

“But I’ve read your book twice, man. I already knew what you looked like.”

“Except older,” the girlfriend added. “But you still look like your picture.”

I heard Sampson snort out the laugh he’d been trying to hold in.

“Nice to meet you,” I said. “Both of you.” I tried to turn away, but the man who’d tapped me on the back held on to my arm.

“Alex!” he called to someone across the room. “You know who this is?” Then he turned to me again. “His name’s Alex too. Is that crazy or what?”

“Crazy,” I said.

The other Alex, wearing a T-shirt with John Wayne Gacy in full clown makeup, came closer for a look. Then a small crowd began to gather around us, or, rather, around me. This was getting pretty ridiculous in a hurry. I certainly wasn’t enjoying my new celebrity status.

“You’re the profiler guy, aren’t you? Sweet. Let me ask you a serious question -”

“We’ll go and check in,” Bree said up close to my ear. “Leave you to your fans.”

“What’s, like, the gnarliest crime scene you’ve ever worked?” the other Alex asked me.

“No, wait -” I reached out to grab Bree’s elbow, but a black-fingernailed hand landed on my wrist and held there. It belonged to a frail-looking young woman whose hand seemed to have been dipped in pale-yellow wax.

“Alex Cross, right? You’re him, right? Can I get a picture with you? It would mean the world to my mom.”

I FINALLY CAUGHT UP with Bree and Sampson in a cozy spot called Main Ballroom #1. That’s where I’d be speaking tonight at around seven thirty. We’d agreed that my name would be the biggest draw and also create the most buzz online, and I guess we had finally been right about something.

Kitz and his people had been helping get the word out over the Web-baiting the hook, so to speak. Whether or not DCAK would bite now was the question. A lot of other geeks and freaks certainly had.

The ballroom was a long rectangular space that could be partitioned into three smaller rooms with accordion-style walls. A stage and podium were set up at the far end. Several rows of chairs sat in the middle of the floor.

Bree and Sampson were standing near the stage with a short, paunchy man in a normal-looking dark suit but with red-framed glasses that brought to mind Elton John. He had a long, thin braid hanging from his otherwise short salt-and-pepper hair and an Unhinged T-shirt pulled over his long-sleeved button-down shirt. Full geek mode , I was thinking.

Bree smiled wickedly as she said, “Alex, this is Wally Walewski. He’s just giving us the full rundown about tonight. Wait’ll you hear.”

“It’s really most excellent to meet you,” Wally Walewski said, his eyes never quite making it higher than my shoulder. “So, anyway, we’ve got your slides-check. And there’ll be a clicker-check. And a laser pointer on the podium-check. And some water? Anything else? Whatever, I’ll take care of it pronto. I’m on the case.”

“What’s the capacity of the room?” asked Bree.

“Two hundred and eighty is the limit by law, and we’ll definitely be sold out.”

“Definitely,” Sampson said, just for me to hear.