Cross the Line (Alex Cross 24)

After much hesitation, Hobbes said, “Works for me.”

“Me too,” Fender said.

Brown glanced at Cass, who nodded.

“Let’s head home, then,” Brown said. “We’ve got thirty-two hours to—”

“Holy shit!” Hobbes cried, struggling against his bowed fishing pole. “I got a big one hooked! A monster!”

Chapter

72

After two grinding and unsuccessful days trying to track Lester Hobbes and Charles Fender, I trudged down Fifth Street, wanting home and family and a break from the pressure that had been building relentlessly.

If Condon was right, politicians were the next targets. Corrupt politicians, but politicians nonetheless, which meant we were trying to stop an assassination.

But the assassination of whom? And how many? At what level?

Federal? Mahoney had alerted U.S. Capitol Hill Police to the increased threat, but without specifics, they couldn’t do much.

State? Municipal?

The truth was we could have been looking at any pol within a hundred and fifty miles of the nation’s capital. As far as limiting the pool to the dishonest, you could kick any azalea in Washington and a corrupt politician would scurry out. The number of potential targets felt overwhelming.

My cell phone beeped with a message from Judith Noble just as I walked up the steps to our home and heard symphonic music blaring.

“Turn the TV down!” Nana Mama shouted.

Stuffing my phone back in my pocket, I went in, cringing at how loud the music was and sticking my fingers in my ears. Ali sat on the couch staring at images of outer space on the screen and holding the remote away

from my grandmother.

“Give it,” I said, putting out my hand.

Ali grimaced but handed it to me. I hit the mute button.

The house mercifully went silent. Nana Mama was trembling, she was so angry. “He would not listen to me. He flat-out defied me.”

“I didn’t want to listen to Jannie crying anymore,” Ali said. “Is that so hard to understand?”

“Jannie’s crying?” I said.

“You better go up and talk to her,” my grandmother said. “She thinks the world’s come to an end.”

I pointed my finger at Ali, said, “You and I are going to have a talk later about respecting your elders. In the meantime, get in the kitchen and do whatever Nana Mama tells you to do, and do it with your lips buttoned tight and your head on straight. Understand, young man?”

Ali’s lower lip began to tremble, but he nodded and got up. “Sorry, Nana Mama,” he mumbled as he walked past her. “I just don’t like hearing her cry.”

“Doesn’t give you the right to be sassing me,” Nana Mama said.

I went upstairs and knocked at Jannie’s door.

“Go away,” Jannie said.

“It’s Dad.”

A few moments later the door opened. Jannie hobbled backward on her crutches, sat down hard on her bed, and burst into tears.