Chapter 97.
WE TRANSPORTED LAWRENCE LIPTON to the Dallas field office and held him there. I threatened to transfer him to Washington if there was any interference from the local police or even the press. I struck a deal with them. I promised Dallas detectives they"d have their turn with Lipton. As soon as I was done.At eleven o"clock that night I slumped into a windowless interview room. It was sterile and claustrophobic, and I felt as if I"d been there a couple hundred times before. I nodded to Lawrence Lipton. He didn"t respond; he looked just awful. Probably I did too."We can help you, your family. We"ll keep them safe. n.o.body else can help you now," I said. "That"s the truth."Lipton finally spoke to me. "I don"t want to talk to you again. I already told you, I"m not involved in any of the s.h.i.t you say I am. I"m not going to talk anymore. Get my lawyer." He waved me away.For the past seven hours he"d been questioned by other FBI agents. This was my third session, and it wasn"t getting easier. His lawyers were in the building, but they"d backed off. They had been informed that he could be formally charged with kidnapping and conspiracy to commit murder and immediately transported to Washington. His father was also in the building but had been denied access to his son. I"d interviewed Henry Lipton, and he had wept and insisted his son"s arrest was a mistake.I sat down across from Lawrence. "Your father is in the building. Would you like to see him?" I asked.He laughed. "Sure. All I have to do is admit that I"m a kidnapper and murderer. Then I can see my father and ask his forgiveness for my sins."I ignored the sarcasm. He wasn"t very good at it. "You know we can confiscate the records of your father"s company, shut it down? Also, your father is a likely target for the Wolf. We"re not here to hurt your family members," I added. "Not unless your father is involved in this too."He shook his head, kept his eyes lowered. "My father has never been in trouble.""That"s what I keep hearing," I said. "I"ve read a lot about you and your family in the past day or so. Gone all the way back to your school days at Texas. You were involved in a couple of sc.r.a.pes in Austin. Two date rapes. Neither case went to trial. Your father saved you then. It won"t happen this time."Lawrence Lipton didn"t respond. His eyes were dead, and he looked as if he hadn"t slept in days. His blue dress shirt was as wrinkled as a used tissue, soaked with perspiration at the underarms. His hair was wet, dripping little rivers of moisture down to his shirt collar and sideburns. The skin under his eyes sagged and had a purplish tint in the harsh interrogation room light.He finally said, "I don"t want my family hurt. Leave my father out of this. Get him protection."I nodded. "Okay, Lawrence. Where do we start? I"m ready to put your family in protective custody until we catch him.""And afterward?" he asked. "It doesn"t stop with him.""We"ll protect your family."Lipton sighed loudly, then said, "All right, I"m the money-man. I"m Sterling. I might be able to get you to the Wolf. But I need promises in writing. Lots of promises."
Chapter 98.
I WAS HEADING into the deepest darkness again, attracted to it as most people are attracted to sunlight. I kept thinking about Elizabeth Connolly, still missing and feared dead.Lipton"s father visited him a couple of times and the two men wept together. Mrs. Lipton was allowed to see her husband. There was a lot of crying among the family members, and most of the emotions seemed genuine.I was in the interrogation room with Sterling until a little past three in the morning. I was prepared to stay later, as long as it took to get the information I needed. Several deals were struck with his lawyers during the night.At around two, with most of the lawyering done, Lipton and I sat down to talk again. Two senior agents from the Dallas field office were in the room with us. They were only there to take notes and tape-record.This was my interview to conduct."How did you get involved with the Wolf?" I asked Lawrence Lipton, after a few minutes during which I emphasized my concern for his family. He seemed clearer headed and more focused than he"d been a few hours before. I sensed that a weight had been lifted from him. Guilt, betrayal of his family _ especially his father? His school records revealed he was a bright but troubled student. His problems always centered on an obsession with s.e.x, but he"d never received a day of treatment. Lawrence Lipton was a freak."How did I get involved?" he repeated, seeming to be asking the question of himself. "I have a thing for young girls, you see. Teens, preteens. There"s lots of it available these days. The Internet opened new sources."?or what? Be as concrete as you can, Lawrence."He shrugged. "For freaks like myself. Nowadays we can get what we want when we want it. And I know how to search for the nastiest sites. At first I settled for photos and movies. I especially liked real-time films.""We found some. In your office at home.""One day a man came to see me. He came to the office, just like you did.""To blackmail you?" I asked.Lipton shook his head. "No, not blackmail. He said he wanted to know what I really wanted. s.e.xually. And that he would help me get it. I threw him out. He came back the next day. He had records of everything I"d bought on the Internet. "So what do you really want?" he asked again. I wanted young girls. Pretty ones, with no strings attached, no rules. He supplied me with two or three a month. Exactly what I fantasized. Color of hair, shape of b.r.e.a.s.t.s, shoe size, freckles, anything I desired.""What happened to the girls? Did you murder them? You have to tell me.""I"m not a killer. I liked to see the girls get off. Some did. We"d party, then they would be released. Always. They didn"t know who I was or where I was from.""So you were satisfied with the arrangement?"Lipton nodded and his eyes lit up. "Very. I"d been dreaming of this my whole life. The reality was as good as the fantasy. Of course, there was a price.": bill had to be paid?""Oh, yeah. I got to meet the Wolf, at least I think it was him. He had sent an emissary to my office in the early days. But then he came to see me. In person, he was very scary. Red Mafia, he said. The KGB came up, but I don"t know what his connection to them was.""What did he want from you?""To go into business with him, to be a partner. He needed my company"s expertise with computers and the Internet. The s.e.x club was secondary with him, a throw-in. He was heavily into extortion, money laundering, counterfeiting. The club was my thing. Once our deal was struck, I went looking for wealthy freaks who wanted their dreams fulfilled. Freaks who were willing to spend six figures for a slave, male, female, didn"t matter. Sometimes a specific target, sometimes a physical type.""To murder?" I asked Lipton."Whatever they wanted. Let me tell you where I think he was going with the club. He wanted to involve very rich, powerful men. We already had one, a senator from West Virginia. He had big plans.""Does the Wolf live in Dallas?" I finally asked. "You"ve got to help me if you want my help."Lipton shook his head. "He isn"t from around here. He doesn"t live in Dallas. Not in Texas. He"s a mystery man.""But you know where he is?"He hesitated but finally went on. "He doesn"t know that I know. He"s smart, but not about computers. I tracked him once. He was sure his messages were secure, but I had them cracked. I needed to have something on him."Then Sterling told me where he thought I could find the Wolf. And also, who he was. If I could believe what he was saying, Sterling knew the name Pasha Sorokin was using in the United States.It was Ari Manning.
Chapter 99.
I SAT HIGH in the c.o.c.kpit of a luxury cabin cruiser in the Intercostal Waterway near Millionaires Row in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. Were we close to the Wolf now? I needed to believe that we were. Sterling swore to it, and he had no reason to lie to us, did he? He had every reason to tell the truth.Sightseers came here on motorboat tours, so I figured we wouldn"t be noticed right away. Besides, darkness was starting to fall. We drove past mansions that were mostly Mediterranean or Portuguese style, but an occasional Georgian Colonial supposedly signaled "northern money." We"d been warned to tread lightly, not to ruffle feathers in this wealthy neighborhood, which, frankly, wouldn"t be possible. We were going to ruffle a lot of feathers in a few minutes...o...b..ard the cruiser with me were Ned Mahoney and two of his seven-person a.s.sault teams. Mahoney didn"t ordinarily go on missions himself, but since Baltimore, the director had been changing that. The FBI had to get stronger in the field.I watched a large waterfront house through binoculars as our boat approached a dock. Several expensive yachts and speedboats bobbed in the water nearby. We had secured a floor plan of the house and learned it had been purchased for twenty-four million two years ago. Don"t ruffle any feathers.A large party was in progress at the estate, which belonged to Ari Manning. According to Sterling, he was Pasha Sorokin, the Wolf."Looks like everybody"s having a fine old time," Mahoney said from the deck. "Man, I love a good party. Food, music, dancing, bubbly.""Yeah, it"s jumping. And the surprise guests haven"t even shown up," I said.Ari Manning was known around Fort Lauderdale and Miami for the parties he hosted, sometimes a couple a week. His extravaganzas were famous for their surprises _ surprise guests, like the coaches of the Miami Dolphins and the Miami Heat; hot musical and comedy acts from Las Vegas; politicians and diplomats and amba.s.sadors, even right up to the White House."Guess we"re tonight"s surprise special guests," Mahoney said, and grinned at me."Flown in all the way from Dallas," I said. "With our entourage of fourteen."The guests, the nature of the glitzy party itself, made the operation tense, which was probably why Mahoney and I felt compelled to make a few jokes. We"d talked about waiting, but HRT wanted to go in now, while we knew the Wolf was there. The director agreed, and had actually made the final decision.A guy in a ridiculous sailor suit was vigorously waving us away from the dock. We kept coming. "What"s this a.s.shole on the dock want?" Mahoney asked me."We"re full up! You"re too late!" the man on the dock shouted to us. His voice carried above the music blasting from the back part of the mansion."Party doesn"t start without us," Ned Mahoney called back. Then he tooted the horn."No, no! Don"t come in here!" Sailor Suit yelled. "Get away!"Mahoney tooted the horn again.The cruiser b.u.mped a Bertram speeder, and the guy on the dock looked as if he were going to have a stroke. "Jesus, be careful. This is a private party! You can"t just come in here. Are you friends of Mr. Manning?"Mahoney tooted again. "Absolutely. Here"s my invitation." He pulled out his ID and his gun.I was already off the boat and running toward the house.
Chapter 100.
I PUSHED MY WAY through the crowd of very well-heeled partygoers making their way to candlelit tables. Dinner was being served now. Steak and lobsters, lots of champagne, and pricey wine. Everybody seemed to have worn their Dolce & Gabbana, their Versace, their Yves Saint Laurent couture. I had on faded jeans and a blue FBI windbreaker.Coiffed heads turned and eyes ushed at me as if I were a party crasher. I was. The party crasher from h.e.l.l. These people had no idea."FBI," Mahoney called from behind as he led his heavily armed teams into the crowd.I knew from Sterling what Pasha Sorokin looked like, and I headed his way. He was right there. The Wolf had on an expensive gray suit, a blue cashmere T-shirt. He was talking to two men near a billowing blue-and-yellow-striped canopy where the grills were working. Enormous cuts of meat and fish were being prepared by smiling, sweaty chefs, all of them black or Hispanic.I pulled out my Glock, and Pasha Sorokin stared at me without moving a muscle. He just stared. Didn"t make a move, didn"t try to run. Then he smiled, as if he"d been expecting me and was glad I"d finally arrived. What was with this guy?I saw him ush a hand signal to a white-haired man whose arm was draped around a curvy blonde less than half his age. "Atticus!" Sorokin called, and the man scurried over faster than kitchen help."I"m Atticus Stonestrom, Mr. Manning"s lawyer," he said. "You have absolutely no reason to be here, to barge into Mr. Manning"s house like this. You"re completely out of line, and I"m asking you to leave.""Not going to happen. Let"s move this private party inside. Just the three of us," I said to Stonestrom and Sorokin. "Unless you want the arrest to take place in front of all these guests."The Wolf looked at his lawyer, then shrugged as if this were no big deal to him. He started to walk toward the house. Then he turned, pretending he"d just remembered something. "Your little boy"s name," he said. "It"s also Alex, isn"t it?"
Chapter 101.
SHE WASN_T DEAD! How good was that? How amazing?Elizabeth Connolly was lost in her own world again, and it was the best place. She was walking a perfect beach on Oahu"s north sh.o.r.e. She was picking up the most amazing seash.e.l.ls, one after the other, comparing the textures.Then she heard shouts, "FBI!" She couldn"t believe it.The FBI was here? At the house? Her heart pounded, then nearly stopped, then pounded again even harder.Had they finally come to rescue her? Why else would they be here? Oh my good G.o.d!Lizzie began to shake all over. Tears spilled down her cheeks. They had to find her and let her out now. The Wolf"s arrogance was about to burn him down!I"m in here. I"m here! I"m right here!The party got terribly quiet suddenly. Everyone was whispering, and it was hard to hear. But she definitely heard "FBI," and theories as to why they were here. "Drugs." Everyone seemed to think so.Lizzie prayed this wasn"t about drugs. What if they took the Wolf to jail? She would be left here. She couldn"t stop shaking. She had to let the FBI know she was here. But how? She was always bound and gagged. They were so close.. . . I"m in the closet! Please look in the closet!She had imagined dozens of escape plans, but only after the Wolf opened the door and leashed her to go to the bathroom or walk in the main part of the house. Lizzie knew there was no way to get out of the locked closet. Not tied up the way she was. She didn"t know how to signal the FBI.Then she heard someone making a loud announcement. A male. Deep voice. Calm and in control."I"m Agent Mahoney with the FBI. Everyone leave the main house immediately. Please a.s.semble on the back lawns. Everyone is to leave the house now! No one leaves the grounds."Lizzie heard shoes sc.r.a.ping the hardwood floors, rapid footsteps. People were leaving. Then what? She"d be all alone. If they took the Wolf away . . . what would happen to her? There had to be something she could do to let the FBI know she was in here. What?Someone named Atticus Stonestrom was talking loudly.Then she heard the Wolf speak, and it chilled her. He was still in the house. Arguing with someone. She couldn"t tell who, or exactly what they were saying.What can I do? Something! Anything!What, what?What haven"t I thought of before?And then Lizzie had an idea. Actually, she"d had it before but always dismissed it. Because it scared the h.e.l.l out of her.
Chapter 102.
"I"M GLAD YOU"RE HERE to see this for yourself, Atticus," the Wolf said to his lawyer. "This is such bulls.h.i.t hara.s.sment. My businesses are beyond reproach. You know that better than anyone. This is highly insulting." He looked at me. "Do you know how many business a.s.sociates you"ve insulted at this party?"I was still restraining myself from responding to his threat to my family, to Little Alex. I didn"t want to take him down; I wanted to take him out."Trust me, this isn"t hara.s.sment," I told the lawyer. "We"re here to arrest your client for kidnapping."Sorokin rolled his eyes. :re you people mad? Do you know who I am?" he asked. Jesus, I"d heard almost the same speech in Dallas.:s a matter of fact, I do," I said. "Your real name is Pasha Sorokin, not Ari Manning. Some people say you"re the Russian G.o.dfather. You"re the Wolf."Sorokin heard me out, then he laughed a crazy laugh. "You are such fools. You, especially." He pointed at me. "You just don"t get it."Suddenly there were shouts coming from one of the other rooms on the first floor. "Fire!" someone was yelling."C"mon, Alex!" Mahoney said. He and I left Sorokin with three other agents and ran to see what the h.e.l.l was going on. How could there be a ?re? Now?There was a ?re. It seemed to have started in the large study off the main living room, in a closet. Swirls of smoke came from under the door. A lot of smoke.I grabbed the doork.n.o.b, which was hot. The closet was locked. I lowered my shoulder and hit the door hard. I slammed into it again. The wood cracked this time. I hit it once more, and the door collapsed. Thick black smoke billowed out.I stepped up close and tried to peer inside. Then I saw something move.Someone was in there. I could see a face.Elizabeth Connolly was in there _ and she was on ?re!
Chapter 103.
I TOOK A BREATH, then lunged forward into the cloud of smoke and heat. I felt the skin on my face begin to burn. I forced myself inside the walk-in closet. Stooped down. I grabbed Elizabeth Connolly in my arms and stumbled backward out of the closet with her. My eyes were tearing, and my face felt blistered. Elizabeth"s eyes were open wide as I removed her gag. Ned Mahoney worked on the rope bindings around her arms."Thank you," she whispered in a voice hoa.r.s.e with smoke. "Oh, thank you," she gasped.Tears ran from her eyes, smudging the soot on her cheeks. My heart thumped a wild beat as I held her hand and waited for the paramedics to come. I couldn"t believe she was alive, but it made everything worthwhile.I only got to savor the feeling for a few seconds. Shots rang out. I ran from the den, turned the corner, and saw two agents down but alive."A bodyguard came in firing," the closest agent told me. "He and Manning ran upstairs."I hurried up the stairs with Ned Mahoney following close behind. Why would the Wolf go upstairs? It didn"t make sense to me. More agents joined us. We searched every room. Nothing! We couldn"t find the Wolf or the bodyguard. Why had they run upstairs?Mahoney and I did another full walk-through of all the rooms on the second and third floors. Fort Lauderdale police had begun to arrive and helped secure the house."I don"t see how he got out of here," Mahoney said. We were huddled together in the second- floor hallway, puzzled and disgusted."Has to be a way out up here somewhere. Let"s look again."We retraced our steps down the second-floor hallway, checking in several guest bedrooms. At the far end of the hall was another stairway, probably used by the help. We"d already searched it. Sealed it off at the bottom. Then it struck me: a small detail I had overlooked.I hurried down to the first landing. There was a cas.e.m.e.nt window and a window seat there. It was just as I"d remembered. Two small cushions on the floor. I opened the cover of the window seat.Ned Mahoney groaned out loud. He saw what I"d found. The escape route. The Wolf had gotten out!"He might still be in here. Let"s see where this goes," I said. Then I lowered myself into the opening. There were narrow wooden stairs, a half dozen of them. Mahoney held a flashlight on me as I climbed down."It"s here, Ned," I called back to him. I saw how they"d made it out. A window was open. I could see water a few feet below."They went into the Intercoastal," I called up to Mahoney. "They"re in the water!"
Chapter 104.
I JOINED THE FRANTIC search in the waterway and the rest of the neighborhood, but it was already dark. Mahoney and I raced up and down narrow estate-lined streets. Then we drove along nearby Las Olas Boulevard, hoping that someone had spotted two men in soaking-wet clothes. But no one had seen the Wolf or his bodyguard.I wouldn"t give up. I went back to the Isla Bahia estates area. Something was wrong. Why hadn"t anyone spotted two men fitting that description? I wondered if they had diving gear in the cellar alcove. How thoroughly had the Wolf planned his escape? What precautions had he taken?Then I let my mind go in a different direction: He"s arrogant and fearless. He didn"t believe we"d find him and come here to take him down. He didn"t have an escape route! So maybe he"s still hiding in Isla Bahia.I pa.s.sed my ideas on to HRT, but they"d already begun to go door-to-door at the estates. There were now dozens of agents and local police combing the exclusive neighborhood in Fort Lauderdale. I wouldn"t give up, wouldn"t let the others quit. Whatever drove me _ perseverance? stubbornness? _ had paid off before. But we didn"t find the Wolf, or anyone who"d seen him in Isla Bahia."There"s nothing? No sign? n.o.body saw anything?" I asked Mahoney."Nothing," Mahoney said. "We found a c.o.c.ker spaniel on the loose. That"s it.""We know who owns the dog?" I asked.Mahoney rolled his eyes. I didn"t blame him. "I"ll check." He went away and came back after a couple of minutes."It belongs to a Mr. and Mrs. Steve Davis. The Davise"s live at the end of the street. We"ll bring them their dog. Satisfied?"I shook my head. "Not really. Let"s the two of us return the dog," I said. "I don"t know why a dog would be loose this late at night. Is the family home?"Doesn"t look like it. The lights are off at the house. C"mon, Alex. Jesus. This is hopeless. You"re clutching at straws. Pasha Sorokin is gone.""Let"s go. Get the dog," I said. "We"re going to the Davis house."
Chapter 105.
WE HAD STARTED TOWARD the Davis house with the brown-and-white c.o.c.ker spaniel when a report came over the two-way: "Two suspicious males. Heading toward Las Olas Boulevard. They"ve spotted us! We"re in pursuit."We were only a few blocks from the shopping district and got there in minutes. The c.o.c.ker spaniel was barking in the backseat. Fort Lauderdale police patrol cars and FBI sedans had already formed a tight ring around a Gap clothing store. More patrol cars were arriving, their sirens screaming in the night. The street was crowded, and the local police were having trouble stopping pedestrian flow.Mahoney drove up to the blockade. We left a window cracked for the dog. He and I jumped out and ran toward the Gap. We were wearing black jackets, carrying handguns.The store lights were blazing. I could see people inside. But not the Wolf. Not the bodyguard either."We think it"s him," an agent told us when we got up close to the store."How many gunmen inside?" I asked."We count two. Two that we know about. Could be more. There"s a lot of confusion.""Yeah, no s.h.i.t," said Mahoney. "I get that impression."For the next few minutes nothing useful happened, except that more Lauderdale patrol cars arrived on the scene. So did a heavily armed and armored SWAT unit. A hostage negotiator showed up. Then a pair of news helicopters began to hover over the Gap and surrounding stores."n.o.body"s answering the G.o.dd.a.m.n phone inside," the negotiator reported. "It just rings."Mahoney looked questioningly at me and I shrugged. "We don"t even know if it"s them inside."The negotiator took up a bullhorn. "This is the Fort Lauderdale police. Come out of the store now. We"re not going to negotiate. Come out with your hands up. Whoever"s in there, get out now!"The approach sounded wrong to me. Too confrontational. I walked up to the negotiator. "I"m FBI, Agent Cross. Do we need to back him into a corner? He"s violent. He"s extremely dangerous."The negotiator was a stocky guy with a thick mustache; he was wearing a black jacket, but it wasn"t secured. "Get the f.u.c.k away from me!" he shouted in my face."This is a federal case," I shouted right back. I grabbed the bullhorn out of his hand. The negotiator went at me with his fists, but Mahoney wrestled him to the ground. The press was watching; to h.e.l.l with them. We had a job to do here."This is the FBI!" I said into the bullhorn. "I want to talk to Pasha Sorokin." Then suddenly the strangest thing of the night happened,and it had been a very strange night. I almost couldn"t believe it. Two men emerged from the front door of the Gap. They held their hands in front of their faces, shieldingthem from the cameras, or maybe from us. "Get down on the ground!" I shouted at them. They didn"tcomply. But then I could see _ it was Sorokin and the bodyguard. "We"re not armed," Sorokin yelled, loudly enough for everybody to hear. "We"re innocent citizens. We have no guns."I didn"t know whether to believe him. None of us knew what to make of this. The TV helicopter over our heads was getting too close."What"s he doing?" Mahoney asked me."Don"t know . . . Get down!" I shouted again.The Wolf and the bodyguard continued to walk toward us. Slowly and carefully.I moved ahead with Mahoney. We had our guns out. Was this a trick? What could they try with dozens of ribs and handguns aimed at them?The Wolf smiled when he saw me. Why the h.e.l.l was he smiling?"So, you caught us," he called out. "Big deal! It doesn"t matter, you know. I have a surprise for you, FBI. Ready? My name is Pasha Sorokin. But I"m not the Wolf." He laughed. "I"m just some guy shopping in the Gap. My clothes got wet. I"m not the Wolf, Mr. FBI. Is that funny or what? Does it make your day? It makes mine. And it will make the Wolf"s too."
Chapter 106.
PASHA SOROKIN wasn"t the Wolf. Was that possible? There was no way to know for sure. Over the next forty-eight hours it was confirmed that the men we had captured in Florida were Pasha Sorokin and Russian Federov. They were Red Mafia, but both claimed never to have met the real Wolf. They said they had played the "parts" they were given _ stand-in roles, according to them. Now they were willing to make the best deals they could.There was no way for us to know for sure what was going on, but the deal-making went on for two days. The Bureau liked to make deals. I didn"t. Contacts were made inside the Mafia; more doubts were raised about Pasha Sorokin"s being the Wolf. Finally, the CIA operatives who"d gotten the Wolf out of Russia were found and brought to Pasha"s cell. They said he wasn"t the man they"d help get out of the Soviet Union.Then it was Sorokin who gave us a name we wanted _ one that blew my mind completely, blew everybody"s minds. It was part of his deal.He gave us Sphinx.The next morning, four teams of FBI agents waited outside Sphinx"s house until he left for work. We had agreed not to take him inside the house. I wouldn"t let it go down that way. I just couldn"t do it.We all felt that Lizzie Connolly and her daughters had been through more than enough pain already. They didn"t need to see Brendan Connolly, Sphinx , arrested at the family house in Buckhead. They didn"t need to find out the awful truth about him like that.I sat in a dark blue sedan parked two blocks up the street but with a view of the large Georgian-style house. I was feeling numb. I remembered the first time I"d been there. I recalled my talk with the girls, and then with Brendan Connolly in his den. His grief had seemed heartfelt, as genuine as his young daughters.Of course, no one had suspected he had betrayed his wife, sold her to another man. Pasha Sorokin had met Elizabeth at a party in the Connolly house. He"d wanted her; Brendan Connolly didn"t. The judge had been having affairs for years. Elizabeth reminded Sorokin of the model Claudia Schiffer, who had appeared on billboards all over Moscow during his gangster days. So the horrifying trade was made. A husband had sold his own wife into captivity; he"d gotten rid of her in the worst way imaginable. How could he have hated Elizabeth so much? And how could she have loved him?Ned Mahoney was in the car with me, waiting for action: the takedown of Sphinx. If we couldn"t have the Wolf yet, he was our second choice _ the consolation prize."I wonder if Elizabeth knew about her husband"s secret life?" Mahoney muttered."Maybe she suspected something. They didn"t sleep together regularly. When I visited the house, Connolly showed me the den. There was a bed in there. Unmade.""Think he"ll go to work today?" Mahoney asked. He was calmly munching an apple. A very cool head to work with."He knows we took down Sorokin and Federov. I figure he"ll be cautious. He"ll probably play it straight. Hard to tell.""Maybe we should take him at the house. You think?" He bit into his apple again. "Alex?"I shook my head. "I can"t do it, Ned. Not to his family.""Okay. Just asking, buddy."We waited. A little past nine, Brendan Connolly finally came out the front door of the house. He walked to a silver Porsche Boxster parked in the circular driveway. He had on a blue suit, carried a black gym bag. He was whistling."Sc.u.mbag!" Mahoney whispered. Then he spoke into his two-way: "This is Alpha One . . . we have Sphinx leaving the house. He"s getting into a Porsche. Prepare to converge. Vehicle license is V6T-81K."We heard back immediately. "This is Braves One ...we have Sphinx in full sight too. We"ve got him covered. He"s ours."Then, ;raves Three in place at second intersect. We"re waiting on him.""Should be about ten to fifteen seconds. He"s heading down the street. Making a right."I spoke very calmly to Mahoney. "I want to take him down, Ned."He looked straight ahead through the windshield. Didn"t answer me. But he didn"t say no.I watched the Porsche proceed at a normal speed to the next cross street. The Boxster eased into the turn. And then Brendan Connolly ran!"Oh, boy," said Mahoney, and tossed away his apple.
Chapter 107.
A MESSAGE CAME OVER the shortwave. "Suspect is going southeast. He must have seen us!"I gunned our car in the direction the Porsche had disappeared. I managed to get the sedan up to sixty-five on the narrow, winding street lined with gated McMansions. I still couldn"t see the silver Porsche up ahead."I"m heading east," I said into the two-way. "I"ll take a chance he"s trying to get to the highway." I didn"t know what else to do. I pa.s.sed several cars coming the other way on the quiet street. A couple of drivers sat on their horns. That"s what I would have done too. I was going seventy-five miles an hour in a residential area."I see him!" Mahoney yelled.I stepped down hard on the gas. I was finally making up some ground. I spotted a blue sedan approaching the Porsche from the east. It was Braves Two. We had Brendan Connolly from two sides. Now the question was whether or not he"d give up.Suddenly the Porsche shot right off the road and into a thicket of bushes that rose higher than the car"s roof. The Porsche tilted forward, then disappeared down a steep slope.I didn"t slow down until the last second, then I braked hard and went into a controlled shudder and spin."Jesus Christ!" Mahoney shouted from the pa.s.senger seat."Thought you were HRT," I said.Mahoney laughed. "All right then, partner! Let"s go get the bad guy!"I steered the sedan through the bushes and found myself on a steep hill dotted with large rocks and trees. When the first branches cleared, I still had limited vision because of all the other trees. Then I saw the Porsche smack into a midsize oak and carom to one side. The car slid sideways another fifty feet before it finally stopped.Sphinx was down.Let"s go get the bad guy!
Chapter 108.
MAHONEY AND I WANTED Sphinx, and it was personal with me, maybe with both of us. I let our sedan roll another fifty or sixty yards. Then I braked and the car stopped. Mahoney and I jumped out. We almost slid down the steep hill, which was slippery with mud."Crazy son of a b.i.t.c.h!" Ned Mahoney shouted, as we stumbled ahead."What choice did he have? He had to run.""I mean you. You"re crazy! What a ride."We saw Brendan Connolly lurch out of the damaged Porsche. He held a handgun aimed our way. Connolly ?red off two quick shots. He wasn"t good with a gun, but he was shooting real bullets."Son of a b.i.t.c.h!" Mahoney ?red a shot and hit the Porsche _ just to show Connolly that we could shoot him if we wanted to."Put the gun down," Mahoney shouted. "Put the gun down!"Brendan Connolly started to run down the hill, but he was stumbling a lot. Mahoney and I kept gaining on him until we were only thirty yards or so behind."Let me," I said.Brendan Connolly looked back over his shoulder just then. I could tell he was tired, scared, or both. His legs and arms were pumping in a disjointed rhythm. He might work out in some gym, but he wasn"t ready for this."Get back! I"ll shoot!" he shouted , almost right into my face.I hit him, and it was like a speeding tractor-trailer back-ending a barely moving compact. Connolly went down, rolling crazily. I stayed upright. Didn"t even lose my balance. This was the good part. It almost made up for some of our misses and failures.Connolly"s ignominious roll finally stopped after twenty feet, but then he made his biggest mistake, he got back up.I was on him in a second. I was all over Sphinx, and it was where I wanted to be. Mano a mano with this b.a.s.t.a.r.d. He had sold his own wife, the mother of his children.I threw a hard right-handed shot into the bridge of Connolly"s nose. The perfect shot, or close to it. Probably broke it, from the crunch I heard. He went down on one kneebut he got up again. Former college jock. Former tough guy. Current a.s.shole.His nose was hanging to one side. Good deal. I threw an uppercut into the pit of Connolly"s stomach and liked the feeling so much I threw another. I crunched another right into his gut, which was softening to the touch. Then a quick, hard hook to his cheek. I was getting stronger.I jabbed his broken nose and Connolly moaned. I jabbed again. I looped a roundhouse at his chin, connected, bulls-eye. Brendan Connolly"s blue eyes rolled back into his forehead. The lights went out and he dropped into the mud and stayed there, where he belonged.I heard a voice behind me. "That how it"s done in D.C.?" Mahoney asked from a few yards up the hill.I looked up at him. "That"s how it"s done, Natty b.u.mppo. Hope you took notes."
Chapter 109.
THE NEXT COUPLE OF WEEKS were quiet, disturbingly, maddeningly so. I found out I was being a.s.signed to headquarters in Washington, as deputy director of Investigations under Director Burns. : big fat plum," I was told by everybody. It sounded like a desk job to me, and I didn"t want that. I wanted the Wolf. I wanted the street. I wanted action. I hadn"t come over to the Bureau to be a desk jockey in the Hoover Building.I was given a week off, and Nana, the kids, and I went everywhere together. There was a lot of tension in the house, though. We were waiting to hear what Christine Johnson was going to do.Every time I looked at Alex my heart ached; every time I held him in my arms or tucked him into bed at the end of the day, I thought about his leaving the house for good. I couldn"t let that happen, but my lawyer had advised me it could.The director needed to see me in his office one morning during my week off. It wasn"t too much of a problem. I stopped in after I had dropped the kids off at school. Tony Woods, Burns"s a.s.sistant, seemed particularly glad to see me."You"re something of a hero for the moment. Enjoy it," he said, sounding, as always, like an Ivy League prof. "Won"t last long.""Always the optimist, Tony," I said."That"s my job description, young man."I wondered how much Ron Burns shared with his a.s.sistant, and also what the director had in mind this morning. I wanted to ask Tony about this plum job I was slated for. But I didn"t. I figured he wouldn"t tell me anyway.Coffee and sweet rolls were waiting in Burns"s office, but the director wasn"t there. It was a little past eight. I wondered if he"d even gotten to work yet. It was hard to imagine that Ron Burns had a life outside the office, though I knew he had a wife and four children, and lived out in Virginia, about an hour from D.C.Burns finally appeared at the door in a blue dress shirt and tie, with his shirtsleeves rolled up. So now I knew he"d had at least one meeting before this one. Actually, I hoped this meeting wasn"t about another case that he wanted me to dive into. Unless it involved the Wolf.Burns grinned when he saw me sitting there. He read my look instantly. "Actually, I have a couple of nasty cases for you to work on. But that isn"t why I wanted to see you, Alex. Have some coffee. Relax. You"re on vacation, right?"He walked into the room and sat down across from me. "I want to hear how it"s going so far. You miss being a homicide detective? Still want to stay in the Bureau? You can leave if you want to. The Washington PD wants you back. Badly.""That"s good to hear, that I"m wanted. As for the Bureau, what can I say? The resources are amazing. Lots of good people here, great people. I hope you know that.""I do. I"m a fan of our personnel, most of them, anyway. And on the dark side?" he asked. "Problem areas? Things to work on? I want to hear what you think. I need to hear it. Tell me the truth, as you see it.""Bureaucracy. It"s a way of life. It"s almost the FBI"s culture. And fear. It"s mostly political in nature, and it inhibits agents_ imaginations. Did I mention bureaucracy? It"s bad, awful, crippling. Just listen to your agents.""I"m listening," Burns said. "Go on.""The agents aren"t allowed to be nearly as good as they can be. Of course, that"s a complaint with most jobs, isn"t it?""Even your old job with the Washington PD?""Not as much as here. That"s because I sidestepped a lot of red tape and other bulls.h.i.t that got in the way.""Good. Keep sidestepping the bulls.h.i.t, Alex," Burns said. "even if it"s mine."I smiled. "Is that an order?"Burns nodded soberly. I felt that he had something else on his mind. "I had a difficult meeting before you got here. Gordon Nooney is leaving the Bureau."I shook my head. "I hope I didn"t have anything to do with that. I don"t know Nooney well enough to judge him. Seriously. I don"t.""Sorry, but you did have something to do with it. But it was my decision. The buck pa.s.ses through here at a hundred miles an hour, and I like it that way. I do know Nooney well enough to judge him. Nooney was the leak to the Washington Post. That son of a b.i.t.c.h has been doing it for years. Alex, I thought about putting you in Nooney"s job."I was shocked to hear it. "I"ve never trained people. I didn"t finish orientation myself.""But you could train our people."I wasn"t sure about that. "Maybe I could struggle through. But I like the streets. It"s in my blood. I"ve learned to accept that about myself.""I know. I get it, Alex. I want you to work right here in the Hoover Building, though. We"re going to change things. We"re going to win more than we lose. Work the big cases with Stacy Pollack here at headquarters. She"s one of the best. Tough, smart, she could run this place someday.""I can work with Stacy," I said, and left it at that.Ron Burns put out his hand and I took it."This is going to be good. Exciting stuff," he said. "Which reminds me of a promise I made. There"s a spot here for Detective John Sampson, and any D.C. street cop you like. Anybody who wants to win. We"re going to win, Alex."I shook Ron Burns"s hand on it. The thing is, I wanted to win too.
Chapter 110.
ON MONDAY MORNING I was in my new office on the fifth floor at headquarters in D.C. Tony Woods had given me a walking tour earlier that morning, and I was struck by strange, funny details that I couldn"t get out of my head. Like . . . the office doors were metal all through the building, except on the executive floor, where they were wooden. The odd thing, though, was that the wooden doors looked exactly like the metal ones. Welcome to the FBI.Anyway, I had a lot of reading to do, and I hoped I"d get used to being in an eleven-by- fifteen-foot office, which was kind of bare. The furniture looked as if it were on loan from the Government Accounting Office; there was a desk and chair, a file cabinet with a large dial lock, and a coat tree that held my black Kevlar vest and blue nylon raid jacket. The office looked down on Pennsylvania Avenue, which was something of a perk.Just past two that afternoon, I got a phone call, actually the first incoming call to my new office. It was Tony Woods. "All settled in?" he asked. "Anything you need?""I"m getting there, Tony. I"ll be fine. Thanks for asking.""Good. Alex, you"re going out of town in about an hour. There"s a lead on the Wolf in Brooklyn. Stacy Pollack will be going with you, so it"s a big deal. You fly out of Quantico at fifteen hundred. This thing isn"t over."I called home, then I gathered some paperwork on the Wolf, grabbed the overnight bag I"d been told to keep in my office, and headed to the parking garage. Stacy Pollack came down a few minutes later.She drove, and it took us less than half an hour to get to the small private airfield at Quantico. On the way, she told me about the lead in Brooklyn. Supposedly, the real Wolf had been spotted at Brighton Beach. At least we weren"t giving up on him.One of the black Bells was saddled up and waiting for us. Stacy and I got out of the sedan and walked side by side toward the helicopter. The skies were bright blue and streaming with clouds that appeared to be shredding in the distance."Nice day for a train wreck," Stacy said, and grinned.A shot rang out from the woods directly behind us. I had thrown back my head, laughing at Stacy"s little joke. I saw her get hit and blood spatter. I went down and covered her body.Agents ran onto the tarmac. One of them fired in the direction of the sniper shot. Two came sprinting toward us: the others ran toward the woods in the direction of the shot.I lay on Stacy, trying to protect her, hoping she wasn"t dead, and wondering if maybe the bullet had been meant for me.You"ll never catch the Wolf, Pasha Sorokin had said in Florida. He will catch you. Now the warning had come true.The briefing that night at the Hoover Building was the most emotional I had seen at the Bureau so far. Stacy Pollack was alive, but she was in critical condition at Walter Reed. Most of the agents respected Stacy Pollack tremendously, and they couldn"t believe she"d been targeted. I still wondered if the bullet had been meant for her. She and I had been headed to New York to see about the Wolf; he was the chief suspect in the shooting. But did he have help? Was there someone inside the Bureau?"The other bad news," Ron Burns told the group that night, "is that our lead in Brighton Beach turns out to be bogus. The Wolf isn"t in New York, and apparently he wasn"t there recently. The questions that we have to answer are, Did he know we were going after him? If he knew, how did he know? Did one of us tell him? I promise that we will spare nothing to get the answers to those questions."After the meeting, I was one of the agents invited to a smaller briefing held in the director"s conference room. The mood continued to be somber, serious, and angry. Burns took the floor again, and he seemed more upset by the Stacy Pollack shooting than anyone else."When I said that we were going to bring that Russian b.a.s.t.a.r.d down, I wasn"t using hyperbole for effect. I"m establishing a BAM team to go after him. Sorokin said that the Wolf would come after us and he did. Now we"re going to go after him, with everything we have, all our resources."Heads around the room nodded their approval. I"d heard of the existence of BAM teams in the FBI but hadn"t known if they were real or not. I knew what the acronym stood for: By Any Means. It was what we needed to hear right now. It was what I needed to hear.BAM.
Chapter 111.
EVERYTHING FELT LIKE it was going much too fast, like it was spinning out of control. Maybe that was right. The case was out of our control _ the Wolf was running it.I got a phone call at home two nights later. It was quarter past three in the morning. "This had better be good.""It isn"t. All h.e.l.l"s broken loose, Alex. It"s a war." The caller was Tony Woods, and he sounded groggy.I ma.s.saged my forehead as I spoke. "What war? Tell me what happened.""We got word from Texas a few minutes ago. Lawrence Lipton is dead, murdered. They got to him in his cell."I was starting to wake up in a hurry."How? He was in our custody, wasn"t he?""Two agents were killed with Lipton. He predicted it, didn"t he?"I nodded, then I said, "Yeah.""Alex, they got to the Lipton family too. They"re all dead. HRT is on the way to your house, also the director"s, even Mahoney"s. Anybody who worked on the case is considered vulnerable and at risk."That got me up out of bed. I took my Glock out of the locked cabinet beside my bed."I"ll be waiting for HRT," I told Woods, then I hurried downstairs with my gun in hand.Was the Wolf already here? I wondered.The war came to our house a few minutes later, and even though it was HRT, it couldn"t have been much scarier. Nana Mama was up and she greeted the heavily armed FBI agents with angry looks but also offers of coffee. Then she and I went to wake the children as gently as we could."This isn"t right, Alex. Not in our home," Nana whispered as we went upstairs to get Jannie and Damon. "The line has to be drawn somewhere, doesn"t it? This is bad.""I know it is. It"s gotten out of control, everything has. The world is that way now.""So what are you going to do about it? What are you planning to do?""Right now, wake the kids. Hug them, kiss them. Get them out of this house for a while.":re you listening to yourself?" Nana asked as we arrived at the doorway to Damon"s bedroom. He was already sitting up in bed. ?" he said.Ned Mahoney came up behind me. "Alex, can I have a second?" What was he doing here? What else had happened?"I"ll wake them, get them dressed," Nana said. "Talk to your friend."I stayed behind with Mahoney. "What is it, Ned? Can"t it wait for a couple of minutes? Jesus.""The b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. .h.i.t Burns"s house. Everybody"s all right. We got there in time."I stared into Mahoney"s eyes. "Your family?""They"re out of the house. They"re safe for now. We"ve got to find him and burn him."I nodded. "Let me get my kids up."Twenty minutes later my family was escorted outside to a waiting van. They climbed inside like frightened refugees in a war zone. That"s what the world was becoming, wasn"t it? Every city and town was a potential battlefield. No place was safe.Just before I climbed into the van, I spotted a photographer posted across the street from our house on Fifth Street. It looked like he was photographing the evacuation of our house. Why was that?I"m not sure how I knew who he was, but somehow I did. He"s not from any newspaper, I thought. I felt myself filling with rage and disgust. He works for Christine"s lawyers.
Chapter 112.
CHAOS.The next day, and for two days after that, I found myself in Huntsville, Texas, the site of the federal prison where Lawrence Lipton had been murdered while he was in the custody of the Federal Bureau. No one there had any explanation for how Lipton and two agents had been killed.It had happened during the night. In his cell. Actually, the small suite where he was kept under guard. None of the video cameras had a record of visitors. None of the interviews or interrogations had turned up a suspect. Lipton had had most of the bones in his body broken. Zamochit. The Red Mafia trademark.The same method had been used on an Italian Mau figure named Augustino Palumbo this past summer. According to stories, Palumbo"s killer had been a Russian mobster, possibly the Wolf. The murder had taken place at the super-max prison in Florence, Colorado.The following morning I arrived in Colorado. I was there to visit a killer named Kyle Craig, who had once been an FBI agent, and also a friend of mine. Kyle was responsible for dozens of murders; he was one of the worst psychopathic killers in history. I had captured him. My friend.We met in an interview room on death row in the isolation unit. Kyle looked surprisingly fit. When I"d last seen him he had been gaunt and very pale, with deep, dark hollows under his eyes. He appeared to have put on at least thirty pounds, all of it muscle. I wondered why, what had given Kyle hope? Whatever it was scared me a little."All roads lead to Florence?" he quipped, and grinned as I entered the interview room. "Some a.s.sociates of yours from the Bureau were here just yesterday. Or was it the day before? You know, the last time we met, Alex, you said you didn"t care what I think. That hurt."I corrected him, which I knew would annoy Kyle. "Not exactly what I said. You accused me of being condescending and told me that you didn"t like it. I said, _Who cares what you like anymore?_ I do care about what you think. That"s why I"m here."Kyle laughed again, and the braying sound he made, the baring of his teeth, chilled me. "You always were my favorite," he said."You were expecting me?" I asked."Hmm. Hard to say. Not really. Maybe at some time in the future.""You look like you have big plans. You"re all buffed.""What plans could I possibly have?""The usual. Grand delusions, homicidal fantasies, rape, the slaughter of innocents.""I do hate it when you play psychologist, Alex. You didn"t make it in that world for a good reason."I shrugged. "I know that, Kyle. None of my patients in Southeast had money to pay me. I needed to start a practice in Georgetown. Maybe I will someday."He laughed again. "Talk about delusions. So why are you here? No, I"ll tell you why. There"s been a terrible miscarriage of justice and I"m being released. You"re the messenger of glad tidings.""The only miscarriage is that you haven"t been executed, Kyle."Kyle"s eyes sparkled. I was one of his favorites. "All right, now that you"ve charmed me, what is it that you want?""You know what I want, Kyle," I said. "You know exactly why I"m here."He clapped his hands loudly. "Zamochit! The mad Russian!"For the next half an hour I told Kyle everything I knew about the Wolf; well, nearly everything. Then I gave him the kicker. "He met with you on the night he came here to kill Little Gus Palumbo. Did you set up the kill for him? Somebody did."Kyle leaned back and seemed to be considering his options, but I knew he"d already decided what he meant to do. He was always a step or two ahead.Finally he leaned forward and beckoned me closer. I wasn"t afraid of Kyle, at least not physically, not even with his extra pounds of muscle. I almost hoped he"d make a move."I do this out of love and respect for you," Kyle said. "I did meet with the Russian last summer. Ruthless chap, no conscience. I liked him. We played chess. I know who he is, my friend. I might be able to help you."
Chapter 113.
IT TOOK ME another day at Florence, but I finally negotiated a name out of Kyle. Now, could we believe him? The name was checked and rechecked in Washington, and the Bureau was becoming confident that he had given us the Red Mafia leader. I had doubts, because it came from Kyle. But we had no other leads.Maybe Kyle was trying to blow me up or embarra.s.s the Bureau. Or maybe he wanted to demonstrate how smart he was, how well-connected, how superior to us all. The name, the person"s position, made the arrest controversial and risky. If we went after this man and we were wrong, the embarra.s.sment would stick to the Bureau.So we waited for nearly a week. We checked all of our information again and did several interviews in the field. The suspect was put under surveillance.When we had completed the due diligence, I met with Ron Burns and the director of the CIA in Burns"s office. Ron got to the point. "We believe he"s the Wolf, Alex. Craig is probably telling the truth."Thomas Weir from the CIA nodded my way. "We"ve been watching this suspect in New York for some time. We thought he"d been KGB back in Russia, but there wasn"t conclusive evidence. We never suspected Red Mafia, never the Wolf. Not this man. Not given his position with the Russian government."Weir"s look was intense. "We increased the levels of audio surveillance to include the apartment where the suspect lives in Manhattan. He"s making arrangements to go after Director Burns again."Burns looked at me. "He doesn"t forgive and forget, Alex. Neither do I.""Is that it? We go to New York and arrest him?"Burns and Weir nodded solemnly. "This should be the end of it," said Burns. "Go and take down the Wolf. Bring me his head."
Chapter 114.
THIS SHOULD BE the end of it. From Director Burns"s mouth to G.o.d"s ear.The Century is a famous art deco apartment building on Central Park West, north of Columbus Circle, in New York City. For decades it has been a residence of choice for well-to- do actors, artists, and businesspeople, especially those who are humble enough to share s.p.a.ce with working-cla.s.s families who"ve pa.s.sed down their apartments for decades.We arrived at the building around four in the morning. HRT immediately took over the three main entrances on Central Park, Sixty-second, and Sixty-third Streets. This was the largest bust I had been a part of, definitely the most complicated: The New York City Police, FBI, CIA, and Secret Service were all involved in the operation. We were about to take down an important Russian. The head of the trade delegation to New York. A businessman himself, supposedly above suspicion. The repercussions would be severe if we were wrong. But how could we be wrong? Not this time.I was at the Century, along with my partner for the past week or so. Ned Mahoney was hardworking, honest, and tough in the clutch. The head of HRT had been to my house and even pa.s.sed Nana"s inspection, mostly because he"d grown up on the streets of D.C.Ned and I and a dozen others were climbing the stairs to two penthouse floors, since the suspect"s apartment was on twenty-one and twenty-two. He was powerful and wealthy. He had a good reputation with Wall Street and the banks. Was he the Wolf? If so, why hadn"t his name ever come up before? Because the Wolf was so good, so careful?"Be glad when this is over with," Mahoney said without a huff or a puff as he mounted the stairs."How did it get out of hand like this?" I asked. "There are too many people here.""Always too much politics. Better get used to it. World we live in. Too many suits, not enough workers."We finally reached twenty-one. Ned and I and four other agents stopped there. The rest of the team continued to twenty-two. We waited for them to get into position. This was it. I hoped this was it. Was the real Wolf on one of these two floors?I heard an urgent voice in my earpiece. "Suspect coming out of a window! Man in his underwear jumped from the tower! Jesus Christ! He"s down on the landing between the towers. He"s on the roof. Running."Mahoney and I understood what had happened. We rushed down to the twentieth floor. The Century had two towers that rose up from twenty. A large expanse of roof connected them.We burst out onto the roof and immediately saw a barefoot man in his underwear. He was burly, balding, bearded. He turned and fired at us with a pistol. The Wolf? Balding? Burly? Could this be him?He hit Mahoney!He hit me!We went down hard. Chest shots! Hurt like h.e.l.l! Took my breath away. Fortunately, we were wearing Kevlar vests.The man in his underwear wasn"t.Mahoney"s return fire took out a kneecap; my first shot struck his thick stomach. He went down, spurting blood and howling.We ran to the side of Andrei Prokopev. Mahoney kicked away his gun. "You"re under arrest!" Ned yelled into the face of the wounded Russian. "We know who you are."A helicopter appeared between the Century"s towers. A woman was screaming from one of the windows several stories above us. Now the helicopter was landing! What the h.e.l.l was this?A man came out of a window in the tower and dropped to the roof.Then another man. Professional gunmen, it looked like. Bodyguards?They were quick on the draw and began shooting the instant they hit the roof. HRT returned fire. Several shots were exchanged. Both gunmen were hit and went down. Neither got up again. HRT was that good.The helicopter was setting down on the roof. It wasn"t media or police. It was there to get the Wolf and whisk him away, wasn"t it? There were shots from the helicopter. Mahoney and I fired into the c.o.c.kpit. There was another rapid exchange of gun fire. Then the shooting from the helicopter stopped.For several seconds the only sound on the roof was the loud, eerie whir of the helicopter"s rotor blades. "Clear!" one of our agents finally yelled. "They"re down in the copter!""You"re under arrest!" Mahoney screamed at the Russian in his underwear. "You"re the Wolf. You attacked the director"s house, his family!"I had something else in mind, another kind of message. I leaned in close and said, "Kyle Craig did this to you." I wanted him to know, and maybe pay Kyle back someday.Maybe with zamochit.
Chapter 115.
I HOPED TO G.o.d it was over now. We all did. Ned Mahoney flew back to Quantico that morning, but I spent the rest of the day at FBI headquarters in lower Manhattan. The Russian government had filed protests everywhere they could, but Andrei Prokopev was still in custody, and State Department people were all over the FBI offices. Even a few Wall Street firms had questioned the arrest.So far, I hadn"t been allowed to talk to the Russian again. He was scheduled for surgery, but his life wasn"t in danger. He was being grilled by someone, just not by me.Burns finally reached me at around four o"clock in the office I was using at FBI New York. "Alex, I want you to head back to Washington," he said. "Flight arrangements have been made. We"ll be waiting for you here." That was all he told me.Burns signed off, so I didn"t get the chance to ask any questions. It was obvious that he didn"t want me to. Around seven-thirty I arrived at the Hoover Building and was told to go to the SIOC conference area on five. They were waiting for me there. Not exactly waiting, since a shirtsleeves meeting was already in progress. Ron Burns was at the table, which wasn"t a good sign. Everybody looked tense and exhausted."Let me bring Alex up to date," Burns said when I entered the room. "Have a rest, kick back. There"s been a new wrinkle. None of us are very happy about it. You won"t be either."I shook my head and felt a little sick as I sat down. I didn"t need new wrinkles; I had more than enough already."The Russians are actually cooperating for a change," Burns said. "It seems that they"re not denying Andrei Prokopev has Red Mafia connections. He does. They"ve been monitoring him for some time themselves. They hoped to use him to penetrate the huge black market still coming out of Moscow."I cleared my throat. "But."Burns nodded. "Right. The Russians tell us, now, that Prokopev is not the man we"re looking for. They"re certain of it."I felt completely drained. "Because?"It was Burns"s turn to shake his head. "They know what the Wolf looks like. He was KGB, after all. The real Wolf set us up to believe he was Prokopev. Andrei Prokopev was one of his rivals in the Red Mafia.""To be the Russian G.o.dfather?""To be the G.o.dfather, Russian or otherwise."I pursed my lips, took a breath. "Do the Russians knowwho the Wolf really is?"Burns"s eyes narrowed. "If they do, they won"t tell us. Not yet, anyway. Maybe they"re afraid of him too."
Chapter 116.
LATE THAT NIGHT I sat at the piano on the sunporch with one of Billy Collins"s poems running around my head. It was called "The Blues." It inspired me so much that I sat at the piano and made up a melody to go with the poem. We had lost to the Wolf. It happened a lot in police work, though n.o.body wanted to admit it. Lives had been saved, though. Elizabeth Connolly and a couple of others had been found; Brendan Connolly was in jail. Andrei Prokopev had been caught. But we seemed to have lost the big one, for now, anyway. The Wolf was still out there. The G.o.dfather was free to do what he did, and that wasn"t good for anybody.The next morning, I arrived early to meet Jamilla Hughes"s flight into Reagan National. I had the usual b.u.t.terflies before her plane got in. But mostly I couldn"t wait to see Jam. Nana and the kids had insisted on coming to the airport with me. A little show of support for Jamilla. And for me. For all of us, actually.The airport was crowded but seemed relatively quiet and peaceful, probably on account of the high ceilings. My family and I stood at an exit from Terminal A, near the security check. I saw Jam, then so did the kids, who started poking me. She was wearing black from head to toe; she looked better than ever, and Jamilla always looked good to me."She"s beautiful and so cool," Jannie said, and lightly touched the back of my hand. "You know that, don"t you, Daddy?""She is, isn"t she," I agreed, looking at Jannie now, rather than at Jamilla. "She"s also smart. Except about men, it would seem.""We really like her," Jannie continued. "Can you tell?""I can. I like her too.""But do you love her?" Jannie asked in her usual no-nonsense, get-to-the-heart-of-the-matter way. "Do you?"I didn"t say anything. That part was between Jam and me."Well,do you?" Nana joined in.I didn"t answer Nana either, so she shook her head, rolled her eyes."What do the boys think?" I turned to Damon and Little Alex. The Big Boy was clapping his hands and smiling, so I knew where he stood."She"s definitely all that," said Damon, and he grinned. He always got a little goofy around Jamilla.I moved toward her, and they let me go alone. I snuck a glance back at them, and they were grinning like a Cheshire cat family. I had a lump in my throat. Don"t know why. I felt a little s.p.a.cey, and my knees were weak. Don"t know why either."I can"t believe everybody came," Jamilla said as she slid into my arms. "That makes me happy. I can"t tell you how much, Alex. Wow. I think I"m going to cry. Even though I"m a tough-as-nails homicide detective. You all right? You aren"t all right. I can tell.""Oh, I"m fine now." I held her tight, then I actually picked Jam up, set her back down.We were quiet for a moment. "We"re going to fight for Little Alex," she said."Of course," I told her. Then I said something that I"d never told Jamilla before, though it had been on the tip of my tongue many times. "I love you," I whispered."I love you too," she said. "More than you can imagine. More than even I can imagine."A single tear ran down Jamilla"s cheek. I kissed it away.Then I saw the photographer taking pictures of us.The same one who was at the house the day we were evacuated for personal safety.The one hired by Christine"s lawyer.Had he gotten Jamilla"s tear on film?