London Bridges (Alex Cross 10)

Mahoney shrugged his wide shoulders. “I don’t care if he did or not. Here we are up here, there he is down with the garbage. Maybe there’s some justice after all. Well, maybe not,” Ned said, and laughed, putting his arm around me and squeezing.

“We won,” I said to him. “Damnit, we finally won, Neddy.”

Chapter 120

WE WON!

The next morning I flew back to Quantico in a Bell helicopter with Ned Mahoney and some of his stellar crew. They were celebrating the Wolf’s demise at HRT over in Quantico, but I wanted to get home. I’d told Nana to keep the kids away from school because we were celebrating.

We won!

I let myself decompress for some of the car ride from Quantico to Washington. When I finally got to the house, when I could see it up ahead, I started to feel closer to normal, almost myself, or at least somebody I recognized. No one had come out onto the porch yet, so Nana and the kids hadn’t seen me arrive. I decided to surprise them.

We won!

The front door wasn’t locked, and I went inside. A few lights were on, but I didn’t see anybody yet. Maybe they’re going to surprise me?

Keeping very quiet, I made my way back to the kitchen. The lights were on—plates and silverware had been laid out for lunch—but nobody was there, either.

Kind of strange. Just a little bit off kilter. Rosie the cat came meowing from somewhere, rubbing up against me.

Finally I called out, “I’m home. Your daddy’s home. Where is everybody? I’m home from the wars.”

I hurried upstairs, but nobody was there. I checked for notes that might have been left for me. Nothing.

I ran downstairs. I looked out back, then up and down Fifth Street in front of the house. Not a soul in sight anywhere. Where were Nana and the kids? They knew I was coming.

I went back inside and made a few phone calls to places Nana and the kids might be. But Nana almost always left a note when she went out with the kids, even for an hour or so, and they’d been expecting me.

Suddenly I felt sick. I waited another half an hour before I contacted some people at the Hoover Building, starting with Tony Woods in the director’s office. In the meantime, I’d looked around the house again, found no sign of any kind of disturbance.

A team of technical people arrived, and shortly afterward one of them approached me in the kitchen. “There are footprints out in the yard, probably male. Some dirt was recently tracked into the house. Could have been repairmen, or a delivery service, but it’s definitely fresh.”

That was all they found that afternoon, not another clue, not one.

Sampson and Billie came over in the evening, and we sat together and waited, at least for a call, something to go on, something to give me hope. But no call came, and sometime after two in the morning, Sampson finally went home. Billie had left about ten.

I stayed up all night—but nothing, no contact. No word at all about Nana and the kids. I talked to Jamilla on my cell phone, and it helped, but not enough. Nothing could have helped that night.

Finally, early in the morning, I stood at the front door bleary-eyed and stared up and down the street. It occurred to me that this had always been my worst fear, maybe everybody’s worst fear, to be all alone, with nobody, and to have those you love the most in terrible danger.

We lost.

Chapter 121

THE E-MAIL CAME on the fifth day. I almost couldn’t bear to read it. I thought that I might throw up as I stared down at the words.

Alex, I read.

Surprise, dear boy.

I am actually not as cruel or heartless a person as you might think I am. The really cruel ones, the truly unreasonable ones, the ones we should all fear, are mostly in your own United States and in Western Europe. The money I have now will help stop them, help stop their greed. Do you believe that? You should. Why not? Why the hell not?

I thank you for what you did for me, and for Hana, Daniela, and Jozef. We owe you something, and I pay my debts. To me, “you are a gnat, but at least you are a gnat.” Your family will be returned today, but now we’re even. You will never see me again. I don’t want to see you, either. If I do, you will die. That is a promise.

Klára Cernohosska,

Wolf