Джеймс Паттерсон - Ambush

“The one you’re thinking about right now. The one that wishes you to know they would like to have a truce. They will no longer support any efforts to harm you or anyone associated with you.”

“And why do I receive such an honor?”

“Purely economics. We don’t want trouble. We don’t want violence. Both things cost us money. You got caught up in something that really shouldn’t have escalated. You have my personal and sincere apologies. And my assurances that it will not happen again.”

“Would you care to share that information with any of my coworkers or the visitors from Colombia?”

“I would not. And I was really just showing my respect. This was a courtesy call. You need not look behind every door anymore.”

“And my son?”

“The attack at the prison will never be repeated. He is safe. At least from us.”

“And if I believe you and let down my guard, who’s to say it’s not just a trick?”

“We don’t need to use tricks. We have an army at our disposal. We chose not to use that army and hired someone with a good reputation. She was unable to complete her assignment. And now I’ve completed mine. Choose to believe me or not. But life will continue. Good day, Detective.”

I could’ve stopped him. But what could anyone do? There was no warrant out on him, and it wasn’t a crime to say that you may or may not be associated with a criminal organization.

Something told me his message was sincere. I stepped over to Mary Catherine and gave her a hug. I felt the weight lifted off my shoulders.

As I watched the man walk away, a hand on my arm made me jump.

I spun to see the smiling face of Father Alonzo Garcia.

He said, “A little nervous, are we?”

I shrugged. “We can’t all be hero priests.”

That got a laugh. “You know how silly that is. For men like us, action is the only answer. I took action. That’s it.”

“And in the process saved my daughter. By extension saved me and my whole life.”

I embraced him.

I attended several of the hearings for Alexandra Martinez. Someone was paying for two of the best lawyers in New York. They were arguing everything from her bond to her immigration status. They wanted her out of jail before trial.

Then the prosecutor stood up. For a change, she had a reason to look smug. She said, “Your Honor, Miss Martinez has been charged in two homicides for which we have reliable eyewitnesses. She’s currently being investigated for as many as six other homicides in New York.

“But before we even worry about any of that, I have to advise the court and counsel for the defendant that the authorities in Italy have contacted me to say they’re currently putting together a warrant for Miss Martinez’s arrest in connection with a murder that occurred in Rome two years ago.”

It was rare that prosecutors had so much ammo when facing high-powered attorneys with wealthy clients. This had to be fun for her. She even milked it a little bit by continuing to stand after she was finished.

A reporter for the New York Daily News slid onto the seat next to me.

He said, “Are there any big cases you’re not involved in?”

“I’m basically just a witness on this one. Why do you care?”

“I’m not sure I buy that whole story about the hero priest. I’d like to get the facts so people could make up their own minds about who’s a hero.”

“The facts are the facts. He saved my life and the lives of several others. Why is that suspect?”

“Because suspicion sells more papers and gets us more clicks on the Internet. It’s also a hell of a lot easier than trying to investigate some kind of fraud at city hall.”

I just turned away and watched the proceedings some more. Life was too short to waste talking to idiots.

I stayed long enough to hear the judge say the words “No bond.”

That was all I was hoping for. At least for now.

When I got home that evening, I enjoyed my Italian dinner cooked by my Irish fiancée.

Seamus’s grace was particularly on point.

Once we were all holding hands, he said, “Heavenly Father, thank you for allowing us all to be together here.” He couldn’t help but pause and look over at Juliana. “In God’s name we thank you.”

There was a perfectly synchronized “Amen” said by all the kids, Mary Catherine, and me.

After dinner, when everything was cleaned up and the kids were diligently working on homework assignments, Mary Catherine snuggled up next to me on the couch as I stared out at the lights of the city.

She wrapped an arm around my waist and laid her head on my chest. She said, “Michael, I’m ready to get married.”

That was not something I saw coming. It had been one of the foremost issues on my mind until Antrole’s death. Now, hearing this beautiful woman, whom I loved more than anything, say she wanted to marry me, I was at a loss for words.

She sat up and looked me in the eyes. “I’d like to do it sooner rather than later. In fact, I’d like to get married as soon as possible.”

“Is it because you’re afraid that if we wait, Seamus might not be able to preside? He is looking a little frail.”

“That’s part of it. But you’re the rest. You and the kids. I love you, and I can’t think of anything I’d want more than to be married to you and raise these kids.”

I sat up and kissed her. We kissed so long that the kids started to make noises from the dining room, where they were doing their homework. Chrissy said she might be sick. That meant it was a good kiss.

And it wouldn’t be the last one these kids saw.

Five days after Alonzo’s ceremony, the family gathered at our apartment on the Upper West Side. There was a ripple of excitement running through the crowd. The kids had jostled for position on the couch and on the carpet so that they could look into the screen of the new laptop computer I had bought for Trent and Eddie. They were going to need it for the special classes at Columbia University.

Wedged in the middle of the crowd was Seamus, who looked as excited as an eight-year-old at Christmas. I didn’t even fool with the computer. I deferred to Eddie and let him set up the video chat. We were looking at a prison administrator on the screen to make sure our connection was stable.

This was our reward for Brian’s helping out on the case. Sergeant Marcia and I had written up an affidavit detailing Brian’s help on a case that not only hurt a drug cartel but also captured an assassin who was wanted all over the world.

It wasn’t enough to get him released early, but the judge did have him moved to a medium-security youthful offender program at the Mohawk Correctional Facility, in Oneida County. It was closer to us and, after what had happened to Brian, considered much safer. One of the perks was that Brian got to make a weekly phone call via computer. That meant we had a live video feed of him every week.

Brian’s face came on the screen. I pumped my fist as if the Giants had just scored a touchdown. It was a tiny victory, but after all we had been through, it made my heart race with excitement. It was great to see his wide smile as he took in the video feed of his nine brothers and sisters, his father, his great-grandfather, and his soon-to-be stepmother.

Each of the kids got to say hello individually and chat with him for a minute. I’m sure when they put the time limits on these calls, no one at the New York State Department of Corrections considered the possibility that an inmate would have nine siblings.

Then the boys talked to him as a group for a minute.

Ricky said, “How’s the food in there?”