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 burst. Washington was starting to look like downtown Beirut. Cameras whirred and clicked everywhere.
I stood up suddenly and came out from behind a police sedan. Not too far, just enough to get killed. Some more assholes at the scene cheered me on.
“The TV stations are here, Gary,” I shouted. “They’re filming this now. They’re filming me as I stand here. I’m gonna wind up as the big star. Slow start, but a hell of a finish for me.”
Soneji/Murphy started to laugh. His laughter went on for a while. Was he manic? Depressive?
“You finally got me figured out?” he shouted at me. “Have you? Do you know who I am now? Do you know what I want?”
“I doubt it. I know that you’re hurt. I know you think you’re dying. Otherwise”—I stopped to make this sound as dramatic as it would be to him—“otherwise, you wouldn’t have let us catch you again.’’
Directly across Pennsylvania Avenue, Soneji/Murphy stood up behind the bright red Jeep. Both children lay on the sidewalk behind him. Neither seemed to be hurt so far.
Gary took a theatrical bow in my direction. He looked like the all-American boy, just as he did in court.
I was walking toward him now. Getting closer and closer.
“Nice touch,” he called to me. “Well said. But I’m the star.” He suddenly shifted his gun in my direction.
A shot rang out behind me.
Gary Soneji/Murphy flew back in the direction of the shoe-repair shop. He landed on the sidewalk, then rolled over. Both young hostages started to scream. They scrambled up and ran away.
I sprinted as fast as I could across Pennsylvania Avenue. “Don’t shoot!” I yelled. “Hold your fire.”
I turned and saw Sampson standing there. His service revolver was still aimed at Gary Murphy. He turned the revolver up toward the sky. He kept his eyes on me. He’d finished it for both of us.
Gary lay in a crumpled heap on the sidewalk. A stream of bright red blood flowed steadily from his head and mouth. He wasn’t moving. The automatic rifle was still clutched in his hand.
I reached out and took the gun away first. I heard cameras clicking away behind us. I touched his shoulder. “Gary?”
Very careful
ly, I turned the body over. There was still no movement. No sign of life. He looked like the all-American boy again. He’d come to this party as himself, as Gary Murphy.
As I looked down, Gary’s eyes suddenly opened and rolled back. He looked straight up at me. His lips parted slowly.
“Help me,’’ he finally whispered in a soft, choked voice. “Help me, Dr. Cross. Please help me.”
I knelt down close beside him. “Who are you?” I asked him.
“I’m Gary…. Gary Murphy,” he said.