Triple Cross (Alex Cross #30)(88)

CHAPTER 99




Manhattan


ON WEDNESDAY, IN AN empty hospital room in a section of the NYU Medical Center far from the maternity ward, Bree watched a screen that Rosella Salazar’s partner had set up for her.

Connie Ellis, the assistant Manhattan DA overseeing the Paula Watkins investigation, stood next to her, also watching the screen.

It featured a feed from an iPhone that Detective Thompson had mounted on a tall tripod and carried to the room Dusan Volkov had been moved into after being brought out of a medically induced coma. Volkov’s head was heavily bandaged, but doctors had told Thompson and Salazar that while Bree’s bullet had grazed the side of his skull, he had not suffered a severe brain injury.

The Russian was certainly alert when Salazar, who’d been released from the hospital just the day before, walked slowly and gingerly into the room, followed by her partner. She ignored Volkov, who was handcuffed to the bed, and said something to the uniformed officer who’d been guarding him.

The officer left the room. Thompson turned on the sound as Salazar eased into a chair by the foot of Volkov’s bed. He was watching both of them closely but said nothing until she and Thompson identified themselves.

“I know who she is,” Volkov said to Thompson, gesturing at Salazar. “You? No. Does not matter, I say nothing until lawyer comes here.”

“Someone from the public defender’s office is on the way,” Thompson said. “Not that it really matters. The evidence against you is overwhelming and it will get even more overwhelming once we execute search warrants on your home and businesses.”

“What evidence? I know no evidence.”

Salazar said, “Give me a break, Dusan. I saw you and two of your men kill Frances Duchaine and her bodyguards in cold blood. I shot your men. You were shot trying to kill me. I’ll testify to that in court. Security footage up and down Forty-Second Street ensures that you will never see the light of day as a free man again.”

The Russian said nothing.

“I wish this state still gave the needle, Dusan,” Thompson said. “You deserve it.”

A man who looked about seventeen knocked and entered. “I am Sergei Andreyev,” he said. “I will be representing Mr. Volkov.”

“You’re from the public defender’s office?” Thompson asked.

“No, I was hired by friends of Mr. Volkov.” He said something to the mobster in Russian. Volkov smiled.

Andreyev looked at Thompson and Salazar. “I would like a moment with my client, please. And turn the camera off.”

Thompson helped Salazar up and shut off the camera. A few moments later, they returned to the room Bree and Ellis were in.

Salazar groaned as she sat on the edge of the bed. “God, I hate getting up and down, and I’m going to need to pump if Junior takes a long time in there.”

Thompson said, “TMI, Rosella. Anyone need coffee?”

“Bad for the baby,” Salazar said.

“I’ll take a small one,” Bree said.

Thompson left. Salazar said, “I’m not expecting him to say much. Just doing this as a courtesy for the lieutenant before I go on serious maternity leave.”

“How long?”

“Six months,” she said, smiling and then yawning. “I’m going to need it.”

Salazar’s partner returned with coffee ten minutes later. Bree was mixing in cream and stevia when Volkov’s attorney knocked on the doorjamb.

“My client has something valuable to trade,” he said to the assistant DA. “In return, you take life without parole off the table.”

“After he killed three people in cold blood?” Ellis laughed. “I don’t think so.”

Andreyev said, “You will think differently when you hear what he has to tell you.”

“Can’t take anything off the table unless I have some idea of what he’s offering.”

“How about the person behind the Paula Watkins and the Frances Duchaine killings? All of the killings.”

Bree said, “He knows?”

Volkov’s attorney looked at her. “Who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ellis said. “Answer the question.”

Andreyev nodded. “He knows who hired him to kill Duchaine and he knows who tried to hire him to do the Watkins murders.”

The assistant DA studied him. “This better be solid.”

“He’s betting his life on it.”





CHAPTER 100




Washington, DC


MAHONEY DRAGGED LIU AND Moore in handcuffs into FBI headquarters and marched them through the halls to a processing unit.

“Separate rooms?” Ned asked as they were fingerprinted, had their mug shots taken, and were dressed in jailhouse jumpsuits.

“No,” I said. “Together. We want them to turn on each other in real time.”

“Moore has intelligence training, probably interrogation training. I say we focus on Liu. She’s more likely to break.”

“Agreed. She can be all over the map, and Moore’s a stoic.”

“You lead, then.”

“You’re sure?”

“This is your best game, Alex. Play it.”

Sampson walked up to us, shaking his phone. “You’re going to like what just came back on the Kane murder weapon.”