James Patterson - Kill Alex Cross

Halfway up another hallway, Emma stopped at locker 733 and twirled the combination on the lock.

She reached inside, took out an iPhone in a zebra-striped rubber case, and held it out for me.

Her eyes flared again when I pulled on a pair of latex gloves to take it from her.

“Emma, when we spoke on Saturday, you said that the last time you had any contact with Zoe was the afternoon before the kidnapping. Is that right?” I asked.

“Yeah. We have eighth period social studies.”

She craned her neck, trying to see what I was doing. I’d powered up the phone and navigated over to her Sent messages.

Sure enough, there it was, September 9, 8:05 a.m.

“ Z — Quik ciggie b4 assembly? Ditch if you can — pleeeez?? I’ve got major dirt to share... ...xoE ”

“And there were no calls between you two on the morning she and Ethan disappeared? No texts?” I asked.

“That’s right,” Emma told me. “I got to school, put my phone in my locker, and went to homeroom, like always. Why?”

“You’re positive about that? This is important, Emma. This is extremely important.”

“I swear!” She fiddled nervously with the purple ribbon around her wrist. Most of the students and staff had started wearing them since the kidnapping.

“Am I in trouble?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “But I am going to have to hold onto this phone for a little while.”

A minute later, I was double-timing it back down to the visitors’ lot and my car. Finally, we had some kind of pattern to work with — or at least, the suggestion of one. Could that earlier text from Ryan Townsend’s phone have been a test run of some kind? Were there others?

And most of all, if Emma Allison’s phone was in her locker that morning, and she didn’t send this latest message — who did?

The caller had to be the kidnapper. Who else could it be?

Suddenly a lot was happening, even more than I realized. I was shuttling back over to headquarters, when I got a call from Ned Mahoney.

“It’s your better half,” he said, and snorted out a laugh.

“Well, you’ve got Bree, Nana Mama, and John Sampson ahead of you on that one,” I said. “But what’s up?”

“Those two arrests from last night. The dude in the wheelchair and the sixty-something accomplice? I don’t know what kind of black op hole they fell into, but one of them must have coughed up some serious intel. Joint Terrorism Task Force is standing up another whole operation for tomorrow night. They’ve already got full surveillance going on some parking garage in Chinatown. That’s all I have so far, but it’s going to be big, Alex, and I’m not talking about just standing around watching this time.”

I could barely process what Ned was telling me. My mind was overflowing with the details of everything I’d just learned at the Branaff School.

“Thanks, Ned, but my plate’s a little full here,” I said. “Isn’t that what I have you for?”

“Actually, buddy — old friend, old pal — I was calling to get in on your team. This takedown’s going to be all SWAT, but they’re pulling people from the kidnapping side for the investigative unit. I’m thinking this time you bring me in.”

“Ned, I don’t even know what we’re talking about,” I said.

“You will. I wouldn’t be surprised if your captain’s leaving you a voice mail about it right now. There’s a briefing, two o’clock today. It’s at the police academy in Southwest.”

“Why all the way down there?” I asked.

“They need the room. They’re going to be staging this thing all into the night. Like I said — mucho grande . Tell me you’ll let me tag along.”

“You don’t need my permission for that,” I told him.

“Actually, I do this time.”

This was unbelievable. I thought about everything I still had to get done — the things I wanted to do myself and the few things I could hand off. There were dozens of calls and texts on Zoe’s phone to track back. I also had to try and reach the First Lady, if I could.

“Let me make this easy for you,” Ned said, cutting into my thoughts. “You’re coming to the briefing. You know it, and I know it. Can we move on now?”

I swear he’s got caffeine instead of blood. The guy’s one of the Bureau’s locomotives.

And he was right. If this had anything to do with the kidnapping, I wanted to be in on it — whether I had the time and energy or not.

“Yeah,” I said. “All right. Police academy, two o’clock. And where’s this parking garage you’re talking about, anyway?”

That Thursday evening at six o’clock exactly, Hala and Tariq’s attack team convened on the upper level of the Chinatown municipal parking garage on H Street.

There were eight of them in all, four couples who arrived separately and would also travel in their own vehicles to the target site. Everyone wore Western business dress, as they had been instructed to do. The men’s jackets and women’s tops were specially cut to conceal the identical Sig Sauer pistols they’d all been issued.

Only Tariq was unarmed. He’d resisted his part in the assignment, but Hala had insisted he be there. He handed around earbuds, transmitters, and laminated conference badges while she began the briefing.

“I’ll make this as fast as possible,” Hala said. “The U.S. secretary of the interior, Justin Pileggi, is scheduled to address the World Alternative Energy Expo at seven thirty tonight. Pileggi will have a full security detail, of course, and they’ll keep him moving around the convention center. His remarks may or may not start on time. We need to keep ourselves just as unpredictable,” she said. “Anyone watching out for an assassin will have seven of us to contend with. No one can stop us.”

There were a few approving smiles around the circle. A few nervous expressions as well. But they all got the plan.

“If at any time you have a clear shot, you’re to take it,” Hala went on. “At that point, the rest of you should know what to do. Escape, if you’re able. And if not—”

She held up the cyanide capsule from her pocket in one hand and her Sig in the other.

“Those are the options. Any questions?”

No one was smiling now .

“I have a question,” one of the men said. He was the tallest in the group, with a heavy brow and an aggressive stare. “What about the arrests at Masjid Al-Qasim the other night?”

Hala kept her face expressionless, but the question surprised her. She hadn’t realized anyone even knew about the mosque, much less Uncle’s disappearance.

“What about them?” she said.

“Well, it’s troubling, isn’t it?”

The rest of the group remained perfectly still, their eyes darting between Hala and the man. This one wasn’t just obnoxious, she realized. He was dangerous. He’d have to be dealt with accordingly, but now was not the time.

“There were arrests, it’s true,” she said. “There have been murders and suicides as well. Bombings, too. We’re at war, if you haven’t noticed .”

“But who’s in charge now?” he asked. “Who is the leader here in Washington?”

“ I am ,” Hala said without hesitation. “This is how The Family works. One falls, and another is there to take his place. Washington will be brought to its knees, make no mistake about it. Where’s your loyalty, brother?”

“Don’t preach at me, sister,” he shot back. “My loyalty is to Allah, and to The Family. Not to you. Do you even know if this assignment is meant to proceed?”

The truth was, Hala didn’t know. There had been no word either way.