Patterson, James - Alex Cross 14 - Cross Country

The Tiger came up close and I could smell his sweat and the tobacco on his breath. He held the knife close to my throat.

“Say it-I am nothing.' Say it! You want to know about your family?” he screamed in my face. “Say-'I am nothing!'”

“I am nothing.”

He cut me, across the biceps. I didn't look at my arm but I knew I was bleeding. I wouldn't show him weakness. No matter what happened to me now.

“Flesh wound!” he said and laughed. His killer boys found it funny too, sick little bastards. I wanted to take all of them down.

He motioned with the knife. “You want to see your family so bad, come on. You can see what's left. Ye ye!”

Cross Country

Chapter 142

I STUMBLED FORWARD toward the deserted-looking farmhouse standing in shadowy darkness, and I wondered if Nana, Ali, and Jannie really were in there.

The closer I got, the less likely it seemed to me. I was afraid I had been living in denial all this time-for days now.

Suddenly I found it hard to walk, to stand, even, but 1 made myself go on, step by step, toward the dark farm that held secrets I maybe didn't want to know.

There was a narrow dirt path winding up to the house and I trudged along a few paces in front of the Tiger and his killers. Were these the same bloodthirsty devils who had murdered Ellie's family?

Was the one in the Houston Rockets shirt the bad lieutenant? Had he traveled back and forth from Africa with the Tiger? What was their connection with what was happening in Lagos and down in the Delta? Could a civil war become a world war? Was it starting in Africa this time?

Suddenly I was struck hard in the small of my back. I lurched forward, and almost went down, but somehow I kept my balance.

Then I whirled around and saw Houston Rockets holding the butt end of his rifle. He was going to hit me with it again.

“Stop right there!” I yelled. “You punk, you little coward.” I wanted to go after him so badly, to wring his neck and break it.

The Tiger laughed, either at me or at his vicious killer.

“No, no, Akeem! I want him conscious. Open the front door, Cross. You are the detective. You made it all the way here. Now you will see. Open the door! Solve the great mystery.”

Cross Country

Chapter 143

I TURNED THE rusty knob, then pushed hard on the sticking wood-frame door. It opened with a loud whine.

At first I couldn't see much, even with the faint glow from the flashlight held behind me.

“Where are they?” I asked.

“Go in an' see,” said the Tiger. “You wanted this-proof of death.”

I walked into the house and still couldn't see anyone in there. My heart was racing. Everything in the first room smelled of mildew, of dirt and age, maybe of death.

“I can't see anything. It's too dark.”

Suddenly a light went on. A living area was illuminated- two small sofas, easy chairs, standing lamps-but I still didn't see anyone else in the room.

I whirled to look at the Tiger, who loomed behind me.

“Where are they?” I yelled. “There's no one in here!”

“Tell me what you know,” he said, seeming serious and businesslike. “What did the she-bitch Adanne tell you? What do you know about the Delta? Tell me!”

I stared back at him. “Do you work for the CIA too? They wanted to know what Adanne told me.”

He laughed out loud. “I work for anybody who pays me. Tell me what you know!”

“I don't know anything. I found out nothing in Africa. If I had, don't you think I'd tell you? I saw you kill Adanne Tansi. That's what I know, only what I saw with my own eyes.”

Someone stepped out of an adjoining hallway. I turned to see Ian Flaherty there in the farmhouse.

“I don't think he knows anything. You can kill him,” he said to the Tiger. “Then he can be with his family. Go ahead. Get it over with.”

A terrible look crossed my face. “So the CIA was in on this from the beginning?”

Flaherty shrugged. “Not the agency, no. Just me. Kill him now. Get it over with.”

Then another voice was in the living room. “You get to die first, asshole.”

Sampson stepped into view. The car I drove had a tracker on it. John had followed the signal all the way down into Maryland. And he wasn't alone.

“It will be a dead tie,” said Bree. She came up alongside Sampson. “You and the Tiger both die. Unless you start talking to us. Where are Nana and the kids?”

The punk in the Houston Rockets shirt pumped his gun. Bree shot him in the left cheek under his eye. He screamed, then dropped.

The Tiger dove back out the front! door.

“I'm not armed,” said Ian Flaherty and raised both hands in the air. “Don't shoot me. I don't know what happened to your family. That wasn't my doing, none of it. Don't shoot me!”

I drove my shoulder hard into Flaherty's chest and then ran past him after the Tiger. Sampson threw me a gun on the way out.

“Use it!” he yelled.

Cross Country

Chapter 144

IT WAS DARK outside, scarily black, and cold as the middle of winter. Just a sliver of moon was visible, with low clouds sliding fast across the night sky. I didn't see the Tiger anywhere.

But then I caught a wisp of movement to the right of the dirt trail we'd taken to the house.

“Alex!” I heard Bree call behind me. I didn't call back to her. I ran ahead and hoped she wouldn't follow, that she couldn't see me in the darkness. I wanted to get to the Tiger first, just me and him.

“Alex!” Bree shouted again. “Don't do it this way. Alex! Alex!”

I continued to track movement, the faint outline of a man running up ahead. Or just noise sometimes, the rustle of branches. I was concentrating on that-when a shadow flew at me out of the brush.

I spun sideways and fired a shot into the chest of a killer in a white tee and white baseball cap. One of the boys! He grunted and fell over in a heap. I kept on running after the Tiger.

He was moving fast, but so was I. Two downhill skiers on a dark slope. I was gaining on him a little but not enough. I didn't call out. I just ran with everything I had in me. There was nothing in my mind except catching him. No caution, not anymore. No fear for myself.

I could hear his heavy footfall, and his breathing, which sounded ragged. Still, I didn't call to him. I held my gun out-and I fired twice. I fired low so 1 wouldn't kill him by mistake. I needed to keep him alive so I could find out where my family was.

I didn't think I hit him, but he turned his body, and that caused him to stumble. I put on an extra burst of speed. I was gaining on him now. I could make out more details, see him clearly.

Then I dove for his legs!

I nearly missed, but I caught him around the ankles and he crashed down on his chest and face and hit his head hard on a rock.

I crawled over him on my hands and knees. Then I went up on my haunches and punched down with all my strength.

My fist connected with his jaw. Sweat and blood flew out to the sides.

“Fucker! Traitor!” he yelled at me, growling like a jungle cat under attack.

“My family-where are they? What happened to them?” I shouted.

Then I punched him again, with everything I had, all the anger and rage living inside. This time he lost a tooth, but he was strong, even hurt like this, and he finally threw me off.

Then he was on me! I shielded my head with my arms and he struck my wrist, perhaps breaking it, I thought. But I didn't make a sound. I arched my body several inches. I managed to grab him around the neck and hold on. I didn't know where the strength was coming from, or how long it would last.

I tried to head-butt him, and because of the odd angle I was at, I connected with his Adam's apple. He gagged, then spit phlegm and blood.