Cross the Line (Alex Cross 24)

“They’re busy for a few days.”

“So there could be an attack in the next few days?”

“I suppose you could interpret it that way,” Dolores said. “How’s Nick?”

“I don’t know. Mahoney’s got him stashed away in Virginia somewhere.”

“So how do I respond to Hobbes and Fender?”

I thought about that and said, “Tell them we look forward to hearing from them at their earliest possible convenience.”

“I can do that,” Dolores said, and she hung up.

I heard Bree come in the front door. It was past seven. She looked worse than I felt.

“Don’t ask,” she said.

“Deal,” I said. “Beer?”

“Red wine,” she said. “Pinot noir. And what smells so good?”

“Nana Mama’s on a roll,” I said and retrieved a bottle of her favorite wine.

I poured just about the time my grandmother finished the thin-sliced pork chops and set them on the table along with her mystery sauce. Jannie crutched her way in. We said grace with everyone holding hands.

Nana Mama’s new dish was a hit. Every bite gave you about six different flavors, but it wasn’t so spicy you screamed Fire! Bree and I cleared the dishes. At bedtime, Ali and I talked about respecting elders.

“Would you disrespect Neil deGrasse Tyson?”

“No,” he said. “But Nana Mama’s not—”

“Don’t go there,” I said, wagging a finger. “That argument won’t work. In this house, in this universe, Nana Mama is Neil deGrasse Tyson and more.”

He struggled with that, but then nodded. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” I said, leaning over and kissing his head.

I went into our bedroom and found Bree already under the covers, knees up and reading her new book. I crawled into bed minutes later, and my world seemed a whole lot better than it had when I got home; I felt good and drowsy enough for sleep.

Chapter

74

Dressed in black from his Wolverine boots to his leather jacket and Bell helmet, John Brown accelerated his motorcycle down a moonless rural road. Cass rode behind him.

“I still say we could have used a car,” she grumbled through a tiny earbud Brown wore.

“There’s no car on earth that can stay with this bike,” Brown said. “We may need that speed to get out of here alive.”

The headlight beam caught parked cars ahead by the side of the road and then the lights of the high-walled compound.

“Hobbes?” Brown said.

“Here,” Hobbes replied.

“Troll in to five hundred meters. Fender too.”

“Roger that.”