Patterson, James: Alex Cross 1 - Along Came A Spider

Jezzie Flanagan stayed behind. “I've heard about you, Detective Cross, now that I think of it. You're the psychologist. There was an article in the Washington Post.” She smiled nicely, a demi-smile.

I didn't smile back. “You know newspaper articles,”

I told her. “Usually a pack of half-truths. In that case, definitely some tall tales.”

“I'm not so sure about that,” she said. “Nice to meet you, anyway.” Then she walked into the office behind Secretary Goldberg, the mayor, and the star FBI agent. Nobody invited me-the psychologist-detective of magazine fame. Nobody invited Sampson.

Monroe did poke his head out. "Stick around, you two. Don't make any waves. Don't get pissy, either. We need you here. I need to talk with you, Alex. Stay put. Don't get pissy Sampson and I tried to be good cops. We stood around outside the headmaster's office for another ten minutes. Finally, we left our posts. We were feeling pissy. I kept seeing the face of little Mustaf Sanders. Who was going to go and find his killer? No one. Mustaf had already been forgotten - I knew that would never happen with the two private-school children.

A little later that morning, Sampson and I were lying across the natural pine floor of the Day School “playroom” with a few of the children. We were there with Luisa, Jonathan, Stuart, MaryBen-y, and her “big” sister Brigid. No one had been able to pick these kids up yet, and they were frightened. Some of the children at the school had wet their pants, and there was one case of severe vomiting. There was the possibility of crisis trauma, a condition I had some experience treating.

Also down on the polished wood floor with us was the teacher, Vivian Kim. We'd wanted to talk to her about Soneji's visit to her class, and Soneji, in general. “We're new kids in your school,” Sampson joked with the children. He had actually taken his sunglasses off, though I wasn't sure if he had to. Kids usually take to Sampson. He fits into their “friendly monster” grouping.

“No you're not!” said Mary-Berry. Sampson had gotten her to smile already. A good sign.

“That's right, we're really policemen,” I told the kids. “We're here to make sure everybody's okay now. I mean, phew, what-a-morning!”

Ms. Kim smiled at me from across the floor. She knew I was trying to give the kids some reassurance. The police were there and it was safe again. No one could hurt them now; order had been restored.

“Are you a good policeman?” Jonathan asked me. He seemed very serious and earnest for such a small boy. “Yes, I am. So is my partner here, Detective Sampson. ”

“ You're big. You're awfully big,” said Luisa. “Big, big, BIG as my house!”

“So we can protect everybody better,” Sampson said to the little girl. Sampson had caught on fast.

“Do you have any kids?” Brigid asked me. She'd carefully observed us both before speaking. She was wonderfully bright-eyed, and I liked her already. “I have two children,” I said. “A boy and a girl.” “And what are their names?” asked Brigid. She had neatly reversed our roles.

“Janelle and Damon,” I told her. “Janelle's four and Damon's six.”

“What's your wife's name?” asked Stuart.

“I don't have a wife,” I told him.

“My, my, my, Mr. Rogers,” Sampson said under his breath.

'Are you divorced?“ Mary-Berry asked me. ”Is that the deal?"

Ms. Kim laughed out loud. “What a question to ask our nice friend, Mary-it ”Are they going to hurt Maggie Rose and Michael Goldberg?" Jonathan the Serious wanted to know. It was a good, fair question. It deserved an answer.

“I hope they won't, Jonathan. I will tell you one thing. Nobody will hurt you. Detective Sampson an( are here just to make sure.”

“We're tough, in case you couldn't tell.” Sampson grinned. “Grrr. Nobody will ever hurt these kids. Grrr. ”

Luisa started to cry a few minutes later. She was a cute kid. I wanted to hug her, but I couldn't. “What's the matter, Luisa?” Ms. Kim asked. “Your morn or your dad will be here soon.”

“No, they won't.” The little girl shook her head. “They won't come. They never pick me up at school.”

“Someone will come,” I said in a quiet voice. “And tomorrow, everything will be fine again.”

The door to the playroom slowly opened. I looked away from the children. It was Mayor Carl Monroe come for a visit to our city's schools for the advantaged.

“You keeping out of trouble, Alex?” Mr. Mayor ded and smiled as he took in the unusual playroom e. Monroe was in his mid-forties, and ruggedly handsome. He had a full head of hair and a thick black mustache. He looked businesslike in a navy blue suit, white shirt, and bright yellow tie.

"Oh, yeah. I'm just trying to do something worthwhile with my spare time. here. Both Sampson and I are. t I

That got a mayoral chuckle. “Looks like you've succeeded. Let's take a ride. Come with me, Alex. We've got to talk over a few things.”

I said good-bye to the kids and Ms. Kim and walked with Monroe out of the school building. Maybe I'd find out what was really going on now, and why I was on the kidnapping instead of my homicide cases. And if I had any choice in the matter.

“You come in your own car, Alex?” Monroe asked as we jogged down the school's front steps.

“Mine and HFC Finance's,” I said.,

“We'll take your car. How's the S.I.T. group working out for you? The concept's strong,” he said as we continued toward the parking area. He had apparently already sent his own driver and car ahead. A man of the people, our mayor.

“What exactly is the concept for S.I.T.?” I asked him. I'd been pondering my current job situation, especially reporting in to George Pittman.

Carl Monroe smiled broadly. He can be very slick with people, and he's actually very smart. He always appears to be caring and benevolent, and maybe he is. He can even listen when he needs to.

“The main idea is to make sure that the strongest black men and women in the Metro police force rise to the top, as they should. Not just the ass-kissers, Alex. That hasn't always happened in the past.”

“I think we'd be all right without too much affirmative action. You heard about the murders in Condon and Langley Tefface?” I asked Monroe.

He nodded, but didn't say anything more about the signature murders. They were not a priority with the mayor today.

“Mother, daughter, three-year-old little boy,” I persisted, starting to get angry again. “Nobody gives a shit about them.”

“So what's new, Alex? Nobody cared about their lives. Why should anybody care about their deaths?”

We had gotten to my car, a '74 Porsche that has seen much better days. The doors creaked and there was a faint odor of past fast-food lunches. I drove it during the three years I was in private practice. We both got in.

“You know, Alex, Colin Powell is head of the Joint Chiefs now. Louis Sullivan was our secretary of Health and Human Services. Jesse Jackson helped to get me this job,” Monroe said as we got onto Canal Road and headed downtown. He stared at his reflection in the side window as he talked.

“And now you're helping me?” I said. “Without even being asked. That's real nice, real thoughtful.”

“That's right,” he agreed. “You're so damn quick, Alex. ”

"Then help me out here. I want to solve the murders in the projects. I'm sorry as hell about those two white

Janwo Patterson children, but their kidnapping won't go wanting for tion or help. Fact is, that's going to be a problem. Too much goddamned help."

“Of course it is. We both know that. ” Monroe nodded agreement. “Those dumb bastards will be tripping all over one another. Listen to me, Alex. Will you just listen?”