Along Came a Spider (Alex Cross #1)(59)

At least he didn’t deny he’d been inside the McDonald’s.

“Did you notice any people at the McDonald’s?” I asked. “Do you remember any customers? A counter girl you might have spoken to?”

“Mmmm… It was crowded. No one in particular comes to mind. I recall thinking that some people dress so badly it’s comical. You see it in any mall. All the time at places like HoJo’s and McDonald’s.”

In his mind, he was still inside the McDonald’s. He’d come that far with me. Stay with me, Gary.

“Did you use the rest room?” I already knew that he had gone to the bathroom. Most of his actions were covered in the reports of the arrest.

“Yes, I used the rest room,” he answered.

“How about a beverage? Something to drink? Bring me along with you. Put yourself right there as much as you can.”

He smiled. “Please. Don’t condescend.”

He had cocked his head a little oddly. Then, Gary started to laugh. A peculiar laugh, deeper than usual. Strange, though not completely alarming. His voice patterns were becoming more rapid, and very clipped. His foot was tapping faster and faster.

“You’re not smart enough to do this,” he said.

I was a little surprised by the change in his tone of voice. “To do what? Tell me what you’re saying, Gary. I don’t follow you.”

“To try and trick him. That’s what I’m saying. You’re bright, but not that bright.”

“Who am I trying to trick?”

“Soneji, of course. He’s right there in the McDonald’s. He’s pretending to get coffee, but he’s really pissed off. He’s about to go nuclear. He needs attention now.”

I sat forward in my chair. I hadn’t expected this.

“Why is he angry? Do you know why?” I asked.

“He’s pissed because they got lucky. That’s why.”

“Who got lucky?”

“The police. He’s pissed because stupid people could luck out and ruin everything, screw up the master plan.”

“I’d like to talk to him about it,” I said. I was trying to stay as matter-of-fact as he was. If Soneji were here now, maybe we could talk.

“No! No. You’re not on a level with him. You wouldn’t understand anything he has to say. You don’t have a clue about Soneji.”

“Is he still angry? Is he angry now? Being here in prison? What does Soneji think about being in this cell?”

“He says—fuck you. FUCK YOU!”

He lunged at me. He grabbed my shirt and tie, the front of my sport jacket.

He was physically strong, but so am I. I let him hold, and I held on to him. We were in a powerful bear hug. Our heads came together and cracked. I could have broken free, but I didn’t try. He wasn’t really hurting me. It was more as if he were issuing a threat, drawing a line between us.

Campbell and his guards came rushing down the corridor. Soneji/Murphy let go of me and began throwing himself at the cell door. Spit ran from the side of his mouth. He began screaming. Cursing at the top of his voice.

The guards wrestled him onto the floor. They restrained him with difficulty. Soneji was much more powerful than his slender body would have suggested. I already knew that from experience.

The R.N. followed them in, and gave him a shot of Ativan. Within minutes, he was asleep on the floor of the cell.

The guards lifted him onto his cot and wrapped him in a restraining jacket. I waited until they locked him in the cell.

Who was in the cell?

Gary Soneji?

Gary Murphy?

Or both of them?





CHAPTER 51


THAT NIGHT, Chief Pittman called me at home. I didn’t think he wanted to congratulate me on my work with Soneji/Murphy. I was right. The Jefe did ask me to stop by his office the next morning.

“What’s up?” I asked him.

He wouldn’t tell me over the phone. I guess he didn’t want to spoil the surprise.

In the morning, I made sure I was clean-shaven, and I put on my leather car coat for the occasion. I played a little Lady Day on the porch before I left the house. Think darkness and light. Be darkness and light. I played “The Man I Love,” “For All We Know,”

“That’s Life, I Guess.” Then off to see The Jefe.

When I arrived at Pittman’s office, there was too much activity for quarter to eight in the morning. Even The Jefe’s assistant seemed fully employed for a change.

Old Fred Cook is a failed vice detective, now posing as an administrative assistant. He looks like one of the artifacts they trot out for old-timer baseball games. Fred is mean-spirited, petty, and supremely political. Dealing through him is like giving messages to a wax-museum doll.

“Chief’s ready for you.” He served up one of his thin-lipped smiles. Fred Cook relishes knowing things before the rest of us. Even when he doesn’t know, he acts as if he does.

“What’s going on this morning, Fred?” I asked him straight out. “You can tell me.”

I saw that all-knowing glint in his eyes. “Why don’t you just go in there and see. I’m sure the chief will explain his intentions.”

“I’m proud of you, Fred. You sure can be trusted with a secret. You know, you should be on the National Security Council.”