Джеймс Паттерсон - Ambush

God knows what would have piqued his interest. He was a great organizer, a talent the church utilized. He could have just as easily organized a gambling ring or some other semi-illegal endeavor, which would’ve caused me grief at every turn.

Sister Agnes had just shown me how much she and the school cared about my children and their education. To say they were going above and beyond the call of duty was an understatement. The only thing they were asking in return was that I keep Seamus on his side of the church and out of Eddie’s and Trent’s educational plans.

Now I was walking into his clean, organized office and felt confident I’d find him in good health and with a worthwhile activity occupying him.

I had two ways I could handle this. I could lie to him or just tell him to mind his own business.

I found Seamus leaning back in a chair sipping coffee.

He looked up at me from the desk. “What are you doing here, Michael?”

“Just had an interesting conversation with Sister Agnes.”

“What could that Ivy League snob want to talk to you about?”

“Why do you call her that?” My grandfather was not usually malicious.

“She’s got a degree in some kind of mathematics from Harvard, and she thinks I have absolutely no role in the school whatsoever.”

“You don’t. You work at the church. Why would you have a role in the school?”

“I have ten great-grandchildren at the school. That’s reason enough right there.”

This was not going to be as easy as I thought.

“Am I missing something? Do you have a personal issue with Sister Agnes?”

“I gave up personal issues when I entered the priesthood. I have never once faltered on the vows I made to the Church.”

I caught the somber tone and edge of outrage. I said, “Not that kind of personal issue. I mean some issue you have with her at the school.”

He looked down at his desk for a moment, then said, “Okay. She might have nixed my suggestion that I teach a class on Irish history.”

“I can’t imagine why a reasonable school administrator would turn down a chance to have a class taught by someone with no background in history or teaching.”

“Don’t be a smart aleck. It doesn’t become you. I learned oral history growing up in the old country. But she wasn’t interested in any of that. She said there weren’t many kids with an Irish heritage at the school. She said even my own great-grandchildren weren’t technically Irish. At least most of them.”

I had dealt with Sister Agnes for years, and I knew she wouldn’t have used the tone that Seamus was using now. But I saw her point. The kids here came from varied and interesting backgrounds. They probably wouldn’t fully appreciate fables told by an elderly priest who still had an Irish accent.

I waited for him to calm down a little, then said, “I’m sorry she shot down your idea. But you have to recognize there’s great opportunities coming for Eddie and Trent. And I don’t want you to cause any heartburn about it. Understood?”

He bowed his head and mumbled, “Understood.”

I joked with my grandfather quite a bit. We traded jabs on a regular basis. But I never liked to see him disappointed. And that’s how he looked right now. As usual, though, in a couple of minutes he was past it. He looked across at me as I sat at the other desk and thought about my day.

My grandfather said, “What’s wrong, Michael? I know that look.”

“Just general stress. Someone trying to kill you tends to do that.”

Seamus chuckled. “They tried to kill Alonzo, too. Unless I’m mistaken, he’s tickled pink by it. Something about missing the action from his old life.”

“That makes him insane.”

“He may be insane, but he has reenergized the school and brought out a whole untapped population of students who never had an interest in sports before. It’s not just soccer. He understands basketball as well. I think his real genius is in motivation.”

“I won’t soon forget how he helped me when those men tried to shoot me the other day. I’m glad he’s a good coach, but I’m even happier he was a tough cop.”

Seamus put down his coffee and straightened some papers on his desk. “What have you got planned for today?”

“I’m going by to visit Juliana in Brooklyn at the TV show set.” I saw him perk up immediately.

“Let me come with you.”

He sounded like a kid pleading to go with his parents.

I said, “I’m just going to say hello, then get back to work.”

“You won’t deny an old man the chance to see his great-granddaughter, will you? I’d love to see what the set looks like.”

“Give me a break. ‘Old man’ — that’s laughable. You get around the city better than I do.”

Then Seamus said the one thing that always got him his way.

“Please.”

I let out a heavy sigh and said, “Okay, but dress in civilian clothes. We don’t want to freak out the movie types. Or maybe they’ll think you’re an extra from another set who wandered over. Either way, don’t wear the collar.”

He sprang from his seat and called out, “C’mon, Alonzo. Michael is taking us to Brooklyn.”

I mumbled, “What the hell — the more the merrier.”

Alex Martinez was in a good mood. She could see the light at the end of the tunnel on this job, which seemed to go on and on. All she wanted to do was go home to her ranch and her daughters and live her life.

She’d already turned down a job offer she’d gotten earlier in the morning. A Swiss banking cartel needed her to clean up a mess in Marseille, France. They had a bank president who had showered his family with gifts paid for through embezzlement. News of the scandal would cripple the stock price. But a fatal hit-and-run would solve everything.

She politely turned the job down, then they offered her more money. She turned it down again, and they said what everyone says: “It’s an easy job. You could phone it in.”

Alex said, “If it’s that easy, why don’t you handle it yourself?” She felt invigorated when she hung up the phone.

Now she was walking onto the set of Century’s End . Dressed in a very sharp skirt with a very conservative blouse, she walked through the hallway with purpose and drive. Not one person questioned her presence.

Sitting at the far end of the set in a director’s chair was the young woman she was looking for. She ran it through her head one more time to make sure she called her Jules, not Juliana. She wanted this to move quickly and smoothly. She just needed to lure the girl away from the set, then make contact with her father.

Alex didn’t like using a stunt like this. She was not much for traumatizing a young person not involved in any crime. But she had to make a choice. Bennett had proved to be resourceful and dangerous. And she wanted to get home. Immediately.

The other issue was the girl herself. She’d be able to identify Alex if anyone could find a photo. Alex wasn’t too worried about that. First she had to get Bennett into the right position. Then she’d worry about witnesses.

Juliana Bennett was having a serious conversation with an attractive young man. The name on the back of his chair was Cade Jason. She had no idea who he was. She’d only done research about Juliana.

Both young people looked up as she came to a stop in front of them.

When she concentrated, Alex had almost no accent when she was speaking English. She looked directly at Juliana and said, “Hello. Are you Jules Baez?”

The girl hesitated, then said, “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“I’m Alice Marshall with the Suzanne Grossman Talent Management Company. Have you heard of us?”

Juliana’s face lit up as she said, “Of course I have. You guys are one of the biggest agencies on the East Coast.”