Along Came a Spider (Alex Cross #1)(60)

I went inside expecting the worst. But I underestimated the chief of detectives a little.

Mayor Carl Monroe was in the office with Pittman. So was our police captain, Christopher Clouser, and, of all people, John Sampson. It appeared that one of Washington’s ever-so-popular morning events, a working breakfast, had been set up in the chief’s inner sanctum.

“It’s not all bad,” Sampson said in a low voice. In sharp contrast to his words, Sampson looked like a large animal caught in one of those double-clawed spring-traps hunters use. I got the feeling he would happily have chewed his foot off to escape from the room.

“It’s not bad at all.” Carl Monroe smiled jovially when he saw the chiseled look on my face. “We have some good news for you both. Very good news. Shall I? Yeah, I think so…. You and Sampson are being promoted today. Right here. Congratulations to our newest senior detective and our newest divisional chief.”

They clapped approvingly. Sampson and I exchanged quizzical looks. What the hell was going on?

If I’d known, I would have brought Nana and the kids along. It was like those affairs where the president gives medals and thanks to war widows. Only this time, the dead had been invited to the ceremony. Sampson and I were dead in the eyes of Chief Pittman.

“Maybe you’d like to tell Sampson and me what’s going on here?” I smiled conspiratorially at Monroe. “You know, the subtext.”

Carl Monroe had his magnificent smile blazing away. It was so warm, and personal, and “genuine.” “I was asked to come here,” he said, “because you and Detective Sampson were being promoted. That’s about it. I was very happy to come, Alex”—he made a comic face—”at quarter to eight this morning.”

Actually, it’s hard not to like Carl sometimes. He’s totally aware of who and what he’s become as a politician. He reminds me of the prostitutes on 14th Street who will tell you a raunchy joke or two when you have to pull them in for soliciting.

“There are a couple of other things to discuss,” Pittman said, but then waved off the idea of any real substance entering the ceremonial conversation. “They can wait until after. There’s coffee and sweetcakes first.”

“I think we ought to discuss everything now,” I said. I shifted my eyes to Monroe. “Put it out on the table with the sweetcakes.”

Monroe shook his head. “Why don’t you go slow for a change?”

“I’m not going to be able to run for public office, am I?” I said to the mayor. “Not much of a politician.”

Monroe shrugged, but he continued to smile. “I don’t know about that, Alex. Sometimes a man changes to a more effective style as he gains experience. Sees what works, what doesn’t. It’s definitely more satisfying to be confrontational. Doesn’t always serve the greater good, though.”

“Is that what this is about? The greater good? That’s the topic for this morning’s breakfast?” Sampson asked the group.

“I think so. Yes, I believe it is.” Monroe nodded and bit into one of the sweetcakes.

Chief Pittman poured coffee into an expensive china cup that was too small and delicate for his hand. It made me think of little watercress sandwiches. Rich people’s lunches.

“We’re bumping into the FBI, Justice, the Secret Service, on this kidnapping case. It’s no good for anybody. We’ve decided to pull back completely. To take you off the case again,” Pittman finally said.

Bingo. The other shoe had dropped. The truth was out at our little working breakfast.

All of a sudden, everybody in the office was talking at once. At least two of us were shouting. Neat party.

“This is total bullshit,” Sampson told the mayor to his face. “And you know it. You do know it, don’t you?”

“I’ve begun sessions with Soneji/Murphy,” I said to Pittman and Monroe and Captain Clouser. “I hypnotized him yesterday. Jesus fucking Christ, no. Don’t do this. Not now.”

“We’re aware of your progress with Gary Soneji. We had to make a decision, and we’ve made it.”

“You want the truth, Alex?” Carl Monroe’s voice suddenly rang out in the room. “You want to hear the truth about this?”

I looked at him. “Always.”

Monroe stared right into my eyes. “A great deal of pressure has been used by the attorney general on a lot of people in Washington. A huge trial will begin, I believe, within six weeks at the most. The Orient Express has already left the station, Alex. You’re not on it. I’m not on it. It’s gotten much bigger than either of us. Soneji/Murphy is on it….

“The prosecutor, the Justice Department, has decided to stop your sessions with Soneji/Murphy. A team of psychiatrists has been formally assigned to him. That’s the way it will work from here on. That’s the way it’s going to be. This case has moved into a new phase, and our involvement won’t be needed.”

Sampson and I walked out on our own party. Our involvement was no longer needed.





CHAPTER 52


FOR THE NEXT WEEK, I got home from work at a sane hour, usually between six and six-thirty. No more eighty-and hundred-hour work weeks. Damon and Janelle couldn’t have been happier if I’d been fired from the job outright.

We rented Walt Disney and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles videos, listened to the three-disc set Billie Holiday: The Legacy 1933–1958, fell asleep on the couch together. All sorts of amazing good stuff.