And Flaherty? After the meeting, he had gone to Langley for a “previously scheduled series of meetings.” No way that was the whole truth, or anything close to it. At least I didn't think so.
That night, I went home to an empty house. I'd told Bree that it might be better if I was in the house alone. I was so desperate, I was ready to try anything now.
Millard's words kept coming back. Dr. Cross, regretfully, we think your family is dead.
I fixed a sandwich but only nibbled the corners away. Then I watched the news stations-CNN, CNBC, FOX-but there was almost nothing about the civil war in the Delta.
Unbelievable. A Hollywood actress had killed herself in LA, and that was the big story; it was being covered on every station-almost as if they all had the same news source and used the same journalists.
Finally, I switched the story about the dead actress off, and the silence wasn't a good thing either. I was nearly overwhelmed by sadness and fear that I had lost Nana, Ali, and Jannie.
For a long time I stayed in the kitchen, holding my head in my arms and hands. I remembered certain images, and feelings, and sensations from the past: Ali, just a little boy, and such a sweetheart; Jannie, still my “Velcro” girl, my living memory of her mother; Nana, who had saved me so many times since I'd come to DC at ten after both my parents had died.
I didn't see how 1 could continue to live without them. Could I?
The phone began to ring again and I snatched up the receiver. I hoped it was the Tiger, wanting something, wanting me.
But it wasn't.
“It's Ian Flaherty. I just wanted to check on you. See if you're all right. See if you remembered anything that could help.”
“Help you?” I said in a tight voice. “My family's been ' taken. My family. Do you have any idea what that's like?”
“I think I do. We want to help you, Dr. Cross. Just tell us what you know.”
“Or what, Flaherty? What else can they do to me?”
“The proper question is… what can they do to your family?”
Flaherty left me a number where I could reach him at any time of the day or night.
At least the bastard was staying up late too.
Cross Country
Chapter 136
THE SOUND OF a ringing telephone woke me from a shallow snooze on the living room couch. I picked the phone up, still half asleep, my extremities tingling.
“Cross.”
“Go to ya moto car now. We watchin' ya house, Cross. Lights on upstairs and in di kitchen. You was sleepin' in living room.”
A male speaking. English with a pidgin accent. I'd heard a lot of it in the past few weeks, but I was particularly tuned into it now-every syllable.
“Is my family all right?” I asked. “Where are they? Just tell me that.”
“Bring your cell phone wit you. We have numba and we wan ya follow directions. And don't call no one or your family dead. Go now, Cross. Listen up.”
I was sitting up now, staring out the window in the living room, sliding my feet into my shoes.
I didn't see anyone outside. No cars or lights were visible from where I was.
“Why should I listen to you?” I asked the caller.
A second voice cut in. “Because I say you should!”
The phone at the other end clicked off. The second voice had been gruff, older than the first. And I recognized it instantly.
The Tiger. He was here in Washington. He had my family.
Cross Country
Chapter 137
SUDDENLY I HAD even more questions.
They had the number of the cell phone I had borrowed. How did that happen? I wondered.
Not that it was impossible to get-but how had a gang of hoodlums from Nigeria managed to do it?
I wasn't inclined to conspiracy theories, but it was getting harder and harder to deny the obvious. Someone wanted to know what I had found out in Africa. And to shut me up for good.
Maybe a minute after the call ended, I walked out on the front porch, which I'd decided to keep dark for now. I still couldn't see anyone watching on the street.
Were they here? Had they left already? Did they have Nana and the kids in a nearby truck or van?
I didn't want to play the target any longer than I had to.
I hurried down the steps and got into the Mercedes-the family car that I had bought for safety.
I started it up, then began to back out of the driveway, feeling the car's power. I felt like I needed that-the help of some external force.
The cell phone shrilled-and I stopped.
“You continue to be a fool.” It was the older male again. I wanted to curse him out, but I said nothing. He might have my family. That was a hard thing to hope for, but I did anyway. I had to hope for something.
He laughed into the phone.
“What's funny?” I asked him.
“You are. Don't you want to know which way to turn out of your driveway?” he asked.
“Which way?”
“Make a left. Then you follow my directions straight to hell.”
Cross Country
Chapter 138
