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

I nodded, and walked away from Sampson. I had to finish this. Somehow, it had to be over with.

The EMS people were trying to get me down on the lawn. Our tiny lawn. Or get me on their stretcher.

1 had another idea. The front door had been left wide open. He'd left the door to the house open. Why had he done that?

“Be right with you,” I said to the medics as I walked past them. "Hold that stretcher, though. II

People were yelling at me, but I pushed forward, anyway.

I moved silently and purposefully through the living room and into the kitchen. I opened the door that's catty-cornered to our back door, and hurried downstairs.

I didn't see anything in the basement. No movement. Nothing out of order. The cellar was my last good idea.

I walked over to a bin near the furnace where Nana dumps all the dirty laundry for the next washload. It's the farthest corner of the basement from the stairs. No Soneji/Murphy in the dark basement.

S ampson came running down the cellar stairs. “He's not here! Someone saw him downtown. He's down around Dupont Circle.”

“He wants to make one more big play,” I muttered. “Son-of-a-bitch.” Son of Lindbergh.

Sampson didn't try to stop me from going with him. He could see in my eyes that he couldn't, anyway. The two of us hurried to his car. I figured I was all right. I'd drop if I wasn't.

A young punk from the neighborhood looked at the sticky blood down the front of my shirt. “You dying, Cross? That be good.” He gave me my eulogy.

It took us ten minutes or so to get down to Dupont Circle. Police squad cars were parked everywhereflashing eerie red and blue in the dawn's earliest light.

It was late in the night shift for most of these boys.

Nobody needed a madman on the loose in downtown Washington.

One more big play.

I Want to Be Somebody. During the next hour or so nothing happened-except that it got light out. Pedestrians began to appear around the circle. The traffic thickened as Washington opened up for business.

The early risers were curious and stopped to ask the police questions. None of us would tell them anything, except to “please keep moving along. Just keep walking, please. There's nothing to see. ” Thank God.

An EMS doctor treated my wounds. There was more blood than actual damage. He wanted me to go straight to the hospital, of course. That could wait. One more big play. Dupont Circle? Downtown Washington, D.C.? Gary SonejilMurphy loved to play in the capital.

I told the EMS doc to back off, and he did. I hit him up for a couple of Percodan. They did the trick for the moment.

Sampson stood by my side, sucking on a cigarette. “You're gonna just fall over,” he said to me. “You'll just collapse. Like some big African elephant had a sudden heart attack. I was savoring my Percodan buzz. ”Wasn't a sudden heart attack,“ I said to him. ”Big African elephant got knifed a couple of times. Wasn't an elephant, either. It was an African antelope. Graceful, beautiful, powerful beast.

I eventually started to walk back toward Sampson's car.

“You got an idea?” he called after me. “Alex?”

“Yeah. Let's ride, no good standing around here at Dupont Circle. He's not going to start shooting up rushhour traffic.”

“You sure about that, Alex?” “I'm sure about it.”

We rode around downtown Washington until just before eight. It was getting hopeless. I was starting to get real sleepy in the car.

This big African antelope was about ready to fall over. Beads of sweat slipped across my eyebrows, dripping down my nose. I was trying to think like Gary Soneji/Murphy. Was he downtown now? Or had he already escaped from Washington?

A call came over the car radio at 7:58.

“Suspect spotted on Pennsylvania Avenue, near Lafayette Park. Suspect has an automatic weapon in his possession. Suspect is approaching the White House. All cars move in!”

One more big play. At least I finally had him figured out a little. He was less than two blocks from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue when they'd found him. That was two blocks from the White House.

I Want to Be Somebody.

They had him pinned down between a shoe-repair shop and a brownstone building full of law offices. He was using a parked Jeep Cherokee for cover.

There was another complication. He had hostages. He'd taken two young kids who had been on their way to school early that morning. The children looked to be eleven or twelve, about the same age Gary had been w hen his stepmother started locking him up. There was a boy and a girl. Shades of Maggie Rose and Michael Goldberg, almost two years before.

“I'm Divisional Chief Cross,” I said and got through the police barricades that were already set up across Pennsylvania Avenue.

The White House was clearly visible down the street. I wondered if the president was watching us on TV. At least one CNN news truck was already on the scene.

A couple of news-station helicopters moved in overhead. This was restricted air space near the White House, so they couldn't get too close. Somebody said M. ayor Monroe was on his way. Gary had bigger prey in mind. He had demanded to see the president. Otherwise, he'd kill the two children.

Traffic on Pennsylvania Avenue and the intersecting streets was already backed up as far as I could see. Several drivers and other passengers were deserting their vehicles, leaving them on the street. Scores of them stayed to watch the spectacle, though. Millions now watched on television.

“You think he's heading for the White House?” Sampson asked.

“I know a few states he'd probably carry,” I said.

I talked to the police SWAT team leader behind the barricades. I told him I thought Gary Soneji/Murphy was ready to go down in flames. He offered to light the match.

A negotiator was already at the scene. He was more than willing to hand over the honor to me. I was finally going to negotiate a settlement with Soneji/Murphy.

“We get the chance”-Sampson grabbed me and spoke very directly-“ we're going to pop him. Nothing tricky, Alex. ”

“Tell that to him,” I said to Sampson. “But if you get the chance, hit him. Do him.”

I wiped my face several times on my sleeve. I was sweating bullets. I was also nauseated and dizzy. I had an electric bullhorn and I flicked the power on. The power was in my hands. I want to be somebody' too. Was that true? Was that what it had finally come to? “This is Alex Cross,” I called out. A few wiseguys in the crowd cheered. Mostly, it got very quiet on the downtown D.C. street.

A burst of wild gunfire suddenly erupted across the street. Loud noise. Car windows blew out all over Pennsylvania Avenue. He did an amazing amount of damage in just a few seconds. Nobody was hurt that I could see. The two children were unharmed. Hi back at ya, Gary. Then a voice came from across the street. Gary's voice.

He was shouting at me. It was just the two of 'us. Was that what he wanted? His own High Noon in the middle of the capital. Live national TV coverage.

“Let me see you, Dr. Cross. Come on out, Alex. Show your pretty face to everybody. ”

“Why should I?” I spoke over the bullhorn to Soneji.

“Don't even think about it,” Sampson whispered from behind me. “You do, I'll shoot you myself.”

There was another explosion of gunfire from across the avenue. This one went on even longer than the first

Beirut. Cameras whirred and clicked everywhere. police sedan. Not too far, just enough to get killed.

“The TV stations are here, Gary,” I shouted. stand here. I'm gonna wind up as the big star. Slow

Soneji/Murphy started to laugh. His laughter went on

“You finally got me figured out?” he shouted at me. what I want?“ think you're dying. Otherwise”-l stopped to make this you wouldn't have let us catch you again. stood up behind the bright red Jeep. Both children lay so far. like the all-American boy, just as he did in court. closer. the star." He suddenly shifted his gun in my direction.