James Patterson - Honeymoon

“We’re checking there now,” said the patrolman. “How far are you guys from here?”

“Ten minutes,” said Will.

“Agent O’Hara, are you there?” asked the patrolman.

“Right here,” I said.

“I’d like to dismantle the lock on one of the doors to the house. If that’s okay? Just to make sure no one’s inside.”

“Absolutely,” I said. “Take an ax to it.”

“Roger that.”

His voice cut off with another burst of static. Outside the cruiser, the siren blared into the night. Inside, it was silence. Small-town cops Will and Mitch Cravens and me.

I caught Mitch’s eye in the rearview mirror. “I know, I know,” he said. “ Faster. ”

Chapter 102

MITCH GUNNED IT and turned ten minutes of driving into five. We arrived in front of my house with a fifty-foot skid. The street was aglow with police patrol lights, the red and blue twirling all around and up into the night. Pockets of neighbors stood and watched from their lawns, wondering what was going on at the O’Hara house.

At that moment, not much.

I hurried through the open front door to find four cops talking in the foyer. They’d just completed a room-to-room search.

“Empty,” one of them told me.

I went into the kitchen. There were a few dishes in the sink, a roll of Saran Wrap on the counter. They’ve eaten dinner. I checked the phone on the wall by the refrigerator. The message light was blinking, but there was only one message. Mine.

All the cops, including Will and Mitch, had gathered in the adjoining den. I went over to them.

“We need a plan,” I said. “I don’t have one, either. I’m not at my best right now.”

A small dark-haired officer named Nicolo took the lead. He was very organized and said there was already an all-points bulletin out for Nora’s red Mercedes in the entire Tri-State area. Airport security had been notified. He was in the middle of telling me he wanted to use the house as a “command center” when I realized something.

The red Mercedes… a car… the garage. I hadn’t looked to see if the minivan was missing.

I had taken two steps when over my shoulder the room let out a collective sigh of relief. I turned to look at what they were seeing.

There, standing in the kitchen’s entrance, were Max and John Jr., followed by their mother. They all had ice cream cones. Baskin-Robbins from in town.

Their jaws had already dropped at the sight of the police. When they saw me, and how beat-up I looked, those same jaws just about hit the floor.

I rushed over to hug everybody. I was so caught up in the moment that I didn’t even hear the phone ring.

Mitch Cravens did. He walked over and was about to pick it up when his father stopped him. Will Cravens put his index finger to his mouth for quiet. Then he hit the speakerphone.

“Good, I have an audience,” came her voice.

Every head in the room whipped around. Nora did indeed have an audience. Complete, undivided attention, especially mine.

But I wasn’t the one she was calling this time.

“I know you’re there, Mrs. O’Hara,” she said in that same calm tone. “I just wanted to let you know something. I’ve been fucking your husband. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Nora hung up.

The room was deathly silent as I looked my wife in the eye. Actually, my ex- wife for the past two years.

She shook her head. “And you wonder why we got a divorce, you prick!”

Part Five

ESCAPE

Chapter 103

THIS WAS IT. Simple as that. The end.

“Hey, I didn’t recognize you without your trusty backpack, Fitzgerald,” said the Tourist.

“Very funny, O’Hara. I didn’t get to thank you for saving my bacon at Grand Central. So, thanks. I think I could have handled him, but maybe not.”

The Tourist was meeting the Girl with the Backpack at a table in the food court at La Guardia Airport. The blackmailer, the seller, was due any minute. If things went right.

“This is crazy, huh? You think he’ll show? The seller?” she asked.

O’Hara sipped his supersize Coke from McDonald’s. “Only if he wants his money, which I’ll bet he does. Two million good reasons to show up.”

Fitzgerald frowned and shook her head. “Let’s say the seller does show. How do we know he’ll give up everything he has? His copies. Not try to stiff us?”

“You mean like we did to him outside Grand Central? To his late representative, I should say.”

“Hey, he’s the bad guy, remember, O’Hara?”

“I think I’ve got that part down. He’s the bad guy, he’s the bad guy. ”

Just then, O’Hara got word in his earpiece. “He’s coming. We know who it is. He came himself this time.”

Fitzgerald didn’t get it yet. “So why did he come here? Didn’t he know this could be a trap?”

O’Hara leaned in close to her. “Ask him yourself. I’ll bet he has a good answer.”

A guy in his early thirties, blue business suit, aviator sunglasses, briefcase, sat down at the table. He got right to it. “So, you have my money this time?”

O’Hara shook his head. “Nope. No money. Don’t get up, though. We’re all over the food court. Taking your picture for USA Today and Time magazine. The Sing Sing News. ”

“You’re making a big mistake, my friend. You’re fucked,” said the guy in the suit. He started to get up.

But O’Hara pulled him down again.

“Obviously, we don’t think so. Now, listen to me, because here’s the deal. You don’t get any money for the file you stole and then tried to sell back to us. But you do get to walk away from all this. Of course, you leave the briefcase and the copies you made. We know who you are, Agent Viseltear. If you come at us again, or if any of this ever gets out, we take you down. And I mean down. That’s the deal. Not too bad, huh?”

O’Hara stared long and hard at the guy in the suit, Viseltear, who was an analyst at Quantico and a thief. “You follow all of this? You get it?”

Viseltear shook his head slowly. “You don’t want me in a court of law,” he said. “You can’t have this go to court. I get it.”

O’Hara shrugged. “If you come at us again, we take you down. That’s what I need you to get.”

And then he punched Viseltear squarely in the jaw. Almost put him out. “Just like you tried to take me down with your pizza delivery guy in Pleasantville. Now get the hell out of here. Leave the briefcase.”

Still rubbing his jaw, Viseltear stood up from the table.

He was a little wobbly but he walked away, and it was over.

Well, not exactly over, O’Hara couldn’t help thinking—because he knew too much about what had really happened, didn’t he?

He’d looked inside the suitcase, looked at the flash drive, read that little piece in the Style section of the Times. Put one and one together. Came up with 1.2 billion.

But maybe, just maybe, that could turn out to be a good thing for him.

And maybe not.

Things aren’t always as they appear.

Chapter 104

“O’HARA.”

“Susan. Nice to see you.”

“Even under the circumstances?”

“Always. Under any circumstances.”

We were on our way to Frank Walsh’s office on twelve in the FBI building in downtown Manhattan. Susan and I worked under Walsh’s supervision, though usually in separate divisions. Frank Walsh controlled several departments in the New York office.

“Susan. John,” he said, and showed his teeth when we arrived at his office. Walsh is an accomplished smiler, raconteur, and glad-hander, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t smart. He’s Susan’s and my boss after all.