Cross (Alex Cross 12)

“Ahh,” I said.

“But you’re not completely sure, are you? You’re still not convinced.”

“Not a hundred percent.” Then I laughed. “Maybe if we do catch him tonight. Maybe if I blow his brains out. Then we’ll definitely be even.”

“That’s why we’re out here, sugar? To blow his brains out?”

There was a knock against the car’s side window, and I went for my gun.

Chapter 102

“WHAT THE HELL IS he doing here?” Sampson asked.

None other than Tony Mullino was standing next to the car—on my side. What the hell was he doing out here in Montauk?

I slowly lowered the window, hoping to find out, to get an answer, maybe a whole bunch of answers.

“I could have been Sully,” he said, with his head cocked to one side. “You’d both be dead if I was.”

“No, you’d be dead,” Sampson said. He gave Mullino a slow smile and showed off his Glock. “I saw you coming up from behind about two minutes ago. So did Alex.”

I hadn’t, but it was good to know that Sampson still had my back, that somebody did, because maybe I was starting to lose my focus a little—and that could get you shot. Or worse.

Mullino was rubbing his hands together. “Cold as shit out here tonight.” He waited, then repeated himself. “I said it’s fricking frigid, freezing cold out here.”

“Hop in,” I told him. “C’mon inside.”

“You promise not to shoot us in the back?” Sampson said.

Mullino raised both hands and looked either puzzled or alarmed. Sometimes it was hard to tell with him. “I don’t even carry a weapon, fellas. Never did in my life.”

“Maybe you ought to, the friends you keep,” Sampson said. “Something to think about, brother.”

“Okay, brother,” said Mullino, with a mean little laugh that made me rethink who he was.

He opened the car door and slid down into the backseat. The question was still on the table: Why had he shown up here and what did he want?

“He’s not coming?” I said, once he’d shut the rear door on the cold. “Is that right?”

“Nah, he’s not coming,” said Mullino. “Never was.”

“You warn him?” I asked. I was watching Mullino in the rearview mirror. His eyes narrowed and showed extreme nervousness, something uncomfortable, something not right.

“I didn’t have to warn him. Sully’s self-reliant, takes care of himself just fine.” His voice was low, almost a whisper.

“I’ll bet,” I said.

“So what happened, Anthony?” asked Sampson. “Where’s your boy now? Why are you here?”

Mullino’s voice sounded like it was coming from underwater. I didn’t quite catch what he said this time.

Neither did Sampson. “You have to speak up,” he turned around and said. “You hear me? See how it works? You have to get your voice up to a certain volume.”

“He killed John Maggione tonight,” said Mullino. “Kidnapped him, then carved him up. That has been a long time coming.”

There was complete silence in the car. I doubt there was anything he could have said that would have surprised me more. I’d felt earlier that maybe we’d been set up, and we had been.

“How did you hear about it?” I finally asked.