Patterson, James - Alex Cross 8 - Four Blind Mice

You're in serious trouble, bitch.

Vanessa didn't understand a word but she sure got the tone. Bad shit was going down. Real bad shit. Her stomach dropped. Ordinarily, she wouldn't have gotten into a car with three guys, but the driver had seemed so nice. Now why was he yelling at her? What kind of messed-up language was it? What was happening? She thought that she might throw up and she'd had a chili dog and Fritos for dinner.

“Stop, please stop! ”Vanessa said, and started to cry. It was an act, kind of, but it usually worked on the soldiers from Bragg.

Not this time, though. The insane yelling in the car got even louder. The weird language she didn't understand.

“Ra khoi xe. Ngay bay gro,” said Thomas Starkey.

Get out of the car. Do it now, bitch.

They were waving their scary guns and pointing, and she finally understood that she was supposed to get out of the car. Oh my God, were they going to leave her out here as a sick joke? The bastards!

Or was it worse than that? How much worse could it get?

Then the one in the front seat smacked her with the back of his hand. Why? She was already getting out of the car. Goddamn him! She almost toppled over on her silver platform shoes. Willie Nelson kicked her in the back and Vanessa gasped in pain.

“Ra khoi xe!” the man in front screamed again. Who were they? Were they terrorists or something?

Vanessa was sobbing, but she understood she was supposed to run, to hightail it into the dark woods and creepy swampland. Jesus, God, she didn't want to go in there! There'd be snakes for sure!

The one from the backseat punched her in the back again, and Vanessa started to run. What choice did she have?

"Lue do may se den toil'

You're going to die.

She heard shouts behind her.

Oh God, God, God, what were they saying? What was going to happen to her? Why had she let them pick her up? Big mistake, big mistake!

Then all Vanessa could think about was running.

Alex Cross 8 - Four Blind Mice

Chapter Twenty

Let her go,“ Thomas Starkey said. ”Let's be fair now.

We told Vanessa we'd be good."

So they leaned against the Suburban and let the frightened girl run off into the swamp, gave her a good head start.

Starkey slid on one of the Ranger's new tan berets. It had replaced the black beret of the Special Forces, once the rest of the Army had gone to black. “Here's the first side bet of the evening. Ole Vanessa will be wearing her platform heels when we catch up with her. Or do you boys think she'll shuck the shoes?” asked Starkey. “Bets, gentlemen?”

“Shuck 'em for sure,” said Griffin. “She's dumb, but she's not that stupid. I'll take your bet. Fifty?”

“She'll be wearing the shoes,” pronounced Starkey. “Girl that pretty working the street, she's dumb as a board. A hundred says so.”

Just then they saw a pair of lights veering off the highway. Someone was driving toward where they'd parked. Now who the hell was this?

Trooper," said Starkey. Then he raised his hand in a friendly wave at the slow-moving police car.

“Problem here?” the static said once he'd rolled up close to the big blue Suburban. He didn't bother to get out of his car.

“Just a little pit stop, Officer. We're on our way to Fort Benning from Bragg,” Starkey said in the calmest voice. In truth, he wasn't nervous about the trooper. Just curious about how this would turn out. “We're in the Reserves. If the three of us were on the first team I guess we'd all be in trouble.”

“I saw your vehicle from the road. Thought I better check to make sure everybody was all right. Nothing but swamp back there.”

“Well, we're fine, Officer. Finish our smokes and hit the road again. Thanks for the concern.”

The state trooper was just about to pull away when a woman's scream came from the woods. There was no mistaking that it was a cry for help.

“Now that's a damn shame, Officer.” Starkey swung his pistol out from behind his back. He shot the trooper point-blank in the forehead. Didn't even have to think about it. “No good deed goes unpunished.”

He shook his head as he walked to the police car, shut off the headlights. He got into the front, pushing the dead trooper aside, and pulled the car out of sight from the main road.

“Go find the girl,” he said to Harris and Griffin. “Pronto. She's obviously not too far. And she's still wearing her platforms, the twit. Go! Go!” he repeated. “I'll give you chumps a couple of minutes' lead. I want to get this cruiser completely out of sight. Go. Warren is Point. Brownie is Flanker.”

When Colonel Thomas Starkey finally made his move into the woods, there wasn't a false step on his part. He went straight to where the girl had cried out for help and gotten the state trooper killed.

From that point, it was mostly instinct for him. He saw mussed leaves and grass. A broken branch of a bush where she'd passed. He noted his own internal responses rapid breathing, surging blood flow. He'd been here before.

“Tao se tim ra may, ”he whispered in Vietnamese. “Lue do may se den toi.”

I'm going to find you, honey. You're almost dead.

He was sorry that the chase after the girl had to be rushed, but the dead state trooper was an unexpected development. As always, Starkey had a calm, super aware focus. He was in the zone. Time slowed for him; every detail was precise and every movement controlled. He was moving fast, comfortable and supremely confident in the dark woods. There was just enough moonlight for him to see.

Then he heard laughter up ahead. Saw a light through the branches. He stopped moving. “Son of a bitch!” he muttered. He moved forward cautiously, just in case.

Harris and Griffin had caught the blonde bitch. They had taken off her black hot pants, gagged her with her own scuzzy underwear, cuffed her hands behind her back.

Griffin was ripping off her silver-sequined blouse. All that was left were the sparkly silver platforms.

Vanessa didn't wear a bra and her breasts were small. Pretty face, though. Reminded Starkey of his neighbor's daughter. Starkey thought again that she was a fine little piece to be selling herself for cheap on the street. Too bad, Vanessa.

She struggled and Griffin let her break away, just for the fun of it. But when she tried to run, she tripped and went down hard in the dirt. She stared up at Starkey, who was now standing over her. He thought she was pathetic.

“Why are you doing this?” She was whimpering. Then she said something else through the gag as she tried to push herself up. It sounded like “I never hurt anybody.”

“This is a game we learned a long time ago,” Starkey said in English. “It's just a game, honey. Passes the time. Amuses us. Get the paint,” he said to Master Sergeant Griffin. “I think red for tonight. You look good in red, Vanessa? I think red is your color.”

He looked her right in the eye and pulled the trigger.

Alex Cross 8 - Four Blind Mice

Chapter Twenty-One

I got up at around five-thirty my first morning back in Washington. Same old, same old, which was fine with me.

I put on a Wizards tee-shirt and ancient Georgetown gym shorts and headed downstairs. The lights in the kitchen were still off. Nana wasn't up yet, which was a little surprising.

Well, she deserved to sleep late every once in a while.

I laced up my sneaks and headed outside for a run. Immediately I could smell the Anacostia River. Not the greatest smell, but familiar. My plan was not to think about Ellis Cooper on death row this morning. So far, I was failing.

Our neighborhood has changed a lot in the past few years. The politicians and business-people would say it's all for the good, but I'm not so sure that's right. There's construction on 395 South, and the Fourth Street on-ramp has been closed forever. I doubt it would happen for this long in Georgetown. A lot of the old brownstones