Fear No Evil(Alex Cross #29)(57)

“Stand still, legs wide, arms wide,” someone said.

I assumed the position and heard the familiar sound of a security wand running over my arms and chest. As he went lower, I thought for sure that the GPS transmitter in my belt was going to trigger an alert.

It certainly caused a higher-pitch response the two times he went over the area but to my relief, the wand’s wielder went on after patting down my lower back.

“He’s good,” the man said, stepping away.

We began walking. The surface beneath my feet soon changed. We were crossing slightly uneven brickwork or tile. The air was more perfumed here. A heavy chair moved. Someone took me by the shoulders, pivoted me, and sat me down on a hard wooden chair.

“Wrists on the chair arms.”

I complied and felt zip ties come around and snug me to the chair. Only then did I wonder which of Marco Alejandro’s possible replacements would be across from me when the hood was lifted.

The night before, the former cartel leader had given me three possibilities: his younger brother Juan Alejandro; his brother-in-law Claudio Fortunato; and Salvatore Menendez, who had been Marco’s right hand from the time they were young men.

Marco felt his brother was too young and too hotheaded to act with the discipline and strategy the cartel required, and his brother-in-law lacked the vision and the skills to manifest that vision. Alejandro had predicted his friend Menendez would be in charge.

When the hood was finally removed, I was surprised to see none of those three men. I blinked at the sunlight, realizing I was on a terrace with trellises of blooming purple flowers overhead and sitting at a low stone table across from one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen.

Her long hair was jet-black, drawn back, and braided to show more of her face, which featured high cheekbones, flawless pale skin, ruby lips, and large, roasted-almond-colored eyes, which flashed all over me. In her late forties, by my guess, she wore a starched white blouse, collar open, riding jeans, and tooled-leather boots.

She said, “I can’t decide whether you are a brave man or a fool, Dr. Cross.”

“I’ve been called both, if that helps.”

Her lips curled ever so slightly toward a smile and she relaxed a little. I had no idea who she was until she spoke again.

“How is my brother these days?” she asked.

Marco’s twin sister, Emmanuella. She was married to Claudio Fortunato but she’s not wearing a wedding ring now. I said, “Given the conditions he’s being held in, I’d say your brother is doing well. I’m a licensed psychologist and he seemed mentally healthy to me.”

Emmanuella Alejandro scowled. “I don’t believe it. Marco in a small cage, no contact, nothing for a year? My brother becomes a crazed man, a broken man.”

“He was humbled,” I allowed. “And he has spent the past year reflecting on his life. But in no way would I characterize him as broken.”

“Who are you to him?”

“I’m the guy who ended his year of silence. I spoke with him, got him books, a radio, one hour of exercise a day, and one hour a week of sunlight.”

Alejandro’s sister blinked and her features softened. “Marco sees the sun, then.”

“Once a week now. I had to pull a lot of strings to get it done.”

“He gave you the phone number?”

“And the contact method. He wanted me to talk to you.”

Emmanuella laughed scornfully. “No, he wanted you to talk to Claudio or Salvatore or Juan. Am I right? Marco never in a million years thought it would be me, did he?”

I shook my head. “I guess he underestimated you.”

“He always has. But in just one year, Claudio has become my ex-husband, Salvatore has unfortunately died, and my reckless younger brother has sampled too many of our products.”

“There was no one else to lead, so you stepped in.”

Not boastful but matter-of-fact, Emmanuella said, “Men tried. Salvatore among them. They all failed.”

“Underestimated again.”

“Yes. Now, why did Marco send you to talk with the cartel’s new leader?”

“To warn you,” I said. “Maestro intends to destroy the cartel and your family, Emmanuella. M intends to kill you all, rub out your bloodlines completely.”

“Not if I kill him and his men first,” she said coldly.

“You know who they are?”

“I am close to knowing. They made a mistake when they challenged us on our ground.”

“What mistake was that?”

Emmanuella said nothing for a moment. “Who do you think M is, Dr. Cross?”

“Your brother thinks M is the leader of Maestro, a group dedicated to exposing corruption and ending your family business once and for all.”

“They will fail, whoever they are,” she said dismissively. “We are an infinitely funded business. Even if Maestro manages to kill every last one of us, there’s too much money to be had feeding the cravings of addicted Americans. Another cartel will rise.”

I let that slide. “How are Marco’s children? His wife?”

“Louisa is taken care of. So are his kids.”

“Two boys, thirteen and nine. Two girls, fourteen and five. You have children?”

“Three girls. Eleven, nine, and eight. Why do you ask?”