The River Murders

by James Patterson

  “You know that there were men among us who planned attacks against the US.”

  “I know that four men were transferred to regular custody. But they didn’t cause us any problems the night we set you all free.”

  “There are ten of us who owe you our freedom. We can help you if you need it.”

  “Right now all I need is some answers. The government’s not big on spilling its secrets to a guy like me.”

  “The government is made up of people. Mostly good people. If you found the right person, they might give you some honest answers.”

  That made me think. I grabbed his upper arms and almost shouted, “Hassan, that’s a great idea.”

  He flashed me a smile and said, “If I knew what you were talking about, I’m sure I would swell with pride.”

  CHAPTER 18

  HOWEVER UNINTENTIONALLY, HASSAN had pointed me in a new direction. I checked on Natty and brought my exhausted mother back to her house. As soon as she was settled, I ran home and immediately got on my computer.

  I thought back to the night we found the hidden prison and how federal agents from the Department of Homeland Security swooped in and took the men and woman who’d been running the prison.

  I still got a chill when I thought about the woman in charge of the Homeland Security people. She was threatening without having to make explicit threats. That was a real talent. Her name was Cheryl Kravitz. That’s who was going to give me answers. All I had to do was find her.

  My first step was to search the internet for any new stories that might mention her. She popped up in five different stories. In every story, she had declined comment. That wasn’t what I was interested in.

  Three of the news stories dealt with cases in the New York area. One of the cases was in Maryland and the other in Pennsylvania. That meant she was probably stationed in New York or Washington, DC. The most recent article was three months old and covered a case in Jersey City, New Jersey.

  My next step was to log on to my LexisNexis search account and run her name. I was surprised there were several Cheryl Kravitzes on the east coast. Seven in New York alone. Thank God LexisNexis gives a lot of extra information. I guessed at her age and then matched it to one woman listed in the public records section of the site and saw that she had a house on Staten Island. It seemed to add up.

  By dinnertime, Bart Simpson and I strolled over to my mother’s house. I thought I was being sly. But as soon as I stepped in the door, my mom, lounging comfortably on the couch, said, “Look who got dressed up to come visit his girlfriend.” She gave me a smile and a wink.

  She also immediately made me self-conscious about the fact that I was wearing a nice, collared, button-down shirt and new Dockers. I was going to argue, but arguing a point had no effect on my mother. And in this case, she was right. I was hoping to hang out with Alicia for a while.

  My mom said, “Alicia’s training shift at the hospital just ended, and she’s visiting Natty.”

  For some reason that news disturbed me. “Why’s she visiting Natty?”

  “Probably because his brother hasn’t been to see him since he was moved to a regular room.”

  “That happened about an hour ago.”

  “Three hours ago. And that’s why Alicia is being nice and polite by visiting your brother.”

  “I was going to go by and see him tonight.” I hated to lie. That meant I’d probably make the trip down to Newburgh sometime before nine o’clock to pop in and say hello to my brother. But if I did that, I’d miss Alicia. She’d be on her way back here.

  Then I had an idea. I looked at my mom and said, “I’ll go see him right now. Are you okay here alone for a couple of hours?”

  “I’ll be asleep sooner than that. Don’t worry about me. Go see your brother.”

  I raced down to the hospital and caught Alicia just as she was saying good-bye to Natty. I talked her into staying a few minutes longer, then convinced my brother he was exhausted and got him to fall asleep.

  When I suggested coffee, Alicia said she was tired. “I only have class until noon tomorrow. Would you be free to hang out then? Maybe in private somewhere.”

  I felt a rush at the offer. An offer I didn’t take lightly. This beautiful girl, smart and considerate, who wanted to spend time with me. Alone. That was great. I knew I was grinning, but couldn’t stop it.

  Then I thought about my plan.

  Alicia read it on my face. She said, “What? What is it? You can’t do it, can you?”

  “I, er, I have to talk to someone in the city. It’s important. Really important. But I hope to be back midafternoon. That is, if you’ll still meet me.”

  She hesitated. As she caressed my chin with one finger, she said, “I guess we’ll see.”

  CHAPTER 19

  THE NEXT MORNING I was rolling early. I had a huge bucket of guilt over missing Alicia as soon as she was out of class. This was one of the harder choices I’d made since leaving the Navy.

  I didn’t trust my station wagon to make the trip into the city so I borrowed my brother’s idle Impala. I knew right where I was going. The Jacob K. Javits Federal Building off Broadway in lower Manhattan. If my logic was correct, Cheryl Kravitz worked somewhere in that building. If I wanted to find answers, she was the only one I could think of who could provide them.

  I had to park blocks away, which turned out to be good. The federal building was well protected and there was no parking anywhere close. It was best that I approach on foot.

  There were barriers along the sidewalk to keep anyone from driving into the courtyard or up to the building. A detachment of NYPD strategic operations members sat in one corner of the courtyard.

  I noticed food carts lining the sidewalk just outside the barriers. Everything from Philly cheesesteaks to falafels were offered from the vendors and their trusty carts.

  There was heavy security at the front, which included a metal detector. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be seen inside the building. I grabbed a chicken gyro from a woman whose cart was dead center in front of the building, then sat on a low planter where I could see the front door. I was still far enough away to not attract attention, but I noticed everyone coming and going from the building. My hope was that Agent Kravitz didn’t use some secret entrance.

  I finished the gyro and grabbed some French fries and a Coke, then returned to my uncomfortable seat on the hard cement planter. An hour later, I ate a hot dog. This kind of surveillance was deadly boring. I appreciated chatting with the different vendors and sampling a variety of food.

  About twelve thirty, while I was eating what was supposed to be roasted steak on a stick, I saw Agent Kravitz coming out the front door. Just as she walked past me, I wiped my face quickly and stood up.

  I said, “Hello, Agent Kravitz. Remember me?” I could tell the way she faced me, with one hand in her purse, she was always on guard. I respected that. She didn’t have an easy job. And there were a lot of nuts in the world. I guess I didn’t realize she considered me one of those nuts.

  The forty-something woman, at least five foot ten, stared at me for a moment. Slowly, recognition dawned on her. Then she said, “You’re the busybody from Marlboro. The guy that demanded we answer his questions. What’s your name again?”

  “Mitchum.”

  She smiled. “Are you like Cher or Madonna? You only go by one name.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Why are you stalking me?”

  “You mean waiting in front of the building where I knew you worked? You call that stalking?”

  “Yes.”

  “I guess, when you think about it, it could be considered a little creepy. But all I want is to talk with you for a few minutes. Let me buy you some souvlaki. I know a place just over there.” I pointed to a large, hairy man I had spoken to earlier.

  Agent Kravitz glanced over at the man, then shook her head. “We have nothing to talk about.”

  “Are you sure, because I feel like we do.”

  She
turned and said, “Good day, Mr. Mitchum. I have a busy schedule.” She said it without even looking at me. I had been dismissed.

  I thought quickly and said, “That’s fine. I’ll leave. Do you happen to know the address of the New York Times? I got a buddy over there. John O’Neil, you know him? Hell of an investigative reporter. Never mind, I’m sure I can find it.”

  When she stopped walking and just stood there for a moment, I knew I had her.

  CHAPTER 20

  AGENT KRAVITZ MOTIONED me to follow her, and I have to say, even for a tall man, I had trouble matching her pace. Despite me wearing Asics cross-trainers and her wearing attractive pumps, she moved with a determined energy that was hard to match. She also didn’t say a word. Or look at me. I just went with it. Stayed a few steps behind and kept my mouth shut.

  In the next block, Agent Kravitz turned into a place called Potbelly Sandwich Shop. She nodded hello to a couple of people in the crowded chain restaurant.

  I passed on a sandwich, and, after she had ordered her turkey on whole wheat, we sat down.

  She said, “Are you on a diet?”

  I chuckled. “I had a snack or two while I was waiting for you in front of the building.”

  “You’ve got my attention for the next five minutes. Make it count.”

  “Clearly, the only reason I’d be talking to you is about what happened up near Marlboro. Something the government kept very quiet. Something I haven’t spoken about to many people.”

  She was listening, that’s all I could ask for. She said, “Go on.”

  “You left the prison site with four people in custody. The injured woman, the stoner who shot the Wilkses, and two other men who seemed to be in charge.”

  “I remember. You’re using up your time on useless information.”

  “One of the men you took, a bald guy named Rick Jackson, is back.”

  “And the problem is?”

  “Shouldn’t he be in prison somewhere? I can’t imagine someone involved in shit like that, which included a couple of murders, is free to just roam around.”

  “The things you can’t imagine would fill several large books, I’m sure. The fact is, only one person was actually arrested for violating US law. The man who shot the couple who found the prison site. And he’s currently in custody. The others were working on a contract from the government. The contract was canceled, and they were released. Mr. Jackson is a US citizen, free to travel anywhere in the country. It doesn’t matter if you or I agree with the decision. That was the final resolution.”

  “So you don’t care that he ran down my mother, tried to blow up my girlfriend, and shot my brother.”

  “On the contrary, I think that’s terrible. But it sounds like a local law enforcement issue to me. Have you filed a report?”

  That was enough. I just stared at her. I slid my chair back to make her think I was leaving. I said, “I thought you guys took some kind of oath to protect the Constitution as well as citizens of the United States. Tell me how your operation in the hills behind Marlboro, and ignoring the men who built it, is helping this country? You kept claiming the terrorists were a threat. I think you’re the threat. You’re a disgrace.”

  She put down her sandwich. We sat in awkward silence for a few moments. She made an assessment. An assessment of me. I could tell this was someone who did this kind of thing all the time. Could I be trusted? Would I do something crazy? I just gave her some time.

  Finally, she said, “Tell me more about what happened to your family. Are you sure it was Jackson?”

  I told her everything. From the blue SUV striking my mother, to my certainty that it was Jackson because he introduced himself at gunpoint. Just to give her a fair assessment of the situation.

  We had another silence between us as she checked something on her phone. Then called a couple of different people, conducting very short and cryptic conversations.

  Finally, she focused on me. She looked me right in the eye. She still hesitated. “Look, I believe you. I understand what you’re going through. But I’m limited by a number of things. Not the least of which, I’m not assigned to this sort of operation anymore.”

  “So you believe me, but you’re sorry that I or some of my family have to die.”

  Agent Kravitz sighed. “What if I told you, hypothetically, that the men who ran that prison were released by us. All except the man who shot the old couple. The others were held, temporarily, by another agency. And now …” She glanced around the sandwich shop to make sure no one was listening. “Now they might hypothetically work for a private contractor who deals with the US government.”

  “Is that something I could track down? If I swore out a warrant, would someone look for Jackson?”

  Now Agent Kravitz leaned in close. “They work for a company called Deep River. The company does everything from patrol to detention work in Afghanistan. Jackson is possibly on Bagram Air Base.”

  “But if there’s a warrant for Jackson, you could do something, right?”

  “No one’s going to care about a warrant from some little town in upstate New York. And no one will look for this guy. But I’ll make you this deal: if you find him, I mean exactly where he is, I’ll do my best to get a warrant. A federal warrant. Especially if we can get him back to the US.”

  She talked with me a little longer. I was so interested that I lost track of time. When I glanced at my phone, I couldn’t believe it was after noon. I wouldn’t make it home in time to see Alicia.

  CHAPTER 21

  I TRIED TO explain the situation to Alicia, but she wasn’t interested. When I told her I could be home in an hour and a half, she said, “Don’t bother. I told my dad I’d take him to physical therapy. You should visit your brother.”

  I’d made a mess of it with Alicia. It was a familiar story with me. I took her advice and stopped in Newburgh. I made it to my brother’s room at the hospital just after sundown. The first thing I heard as I walked in the room was, “How could you disappear for a full day?” Of course, it was my mom.

  I started to offer explanations, but she wouldn’t understand. And I didn’t have the energy left to fight her. I just shrugged and mumbled, “Sorry.”

  My mom said, “And you managed to piss off Alicia, too. Poor girl thought you guys were going on a date or something.”

  That hurt worse than my mom’s guilt trip.

  At least my brother looked much better. The news was pretty good as well. He’d be coming home in a couple of days. Looking around the private room with all sorts of medical devices beeping and blinking, I knew this was another expensive visit to the hospital.

  A couple of hours later, using my laptop to research Deep River, I looked up DP Lampkin’s company, Non-Metric Solutions. Unlike Deep River, about which there was very little information on the internet, Non-Metric Solutions didn’t seem shy about posting anything.

  I still liked their logo. Neil Armstrong planting the flag on the moon, the photograph captioned, “Metric system? Whose flag is on the moon?” That sounded like my friend’s sense of humor. I wondered if he had anything to do with the logo, or if that’s what attracted him to the company.

  I called DP and told him I could start soon as they needed me. I was shocked how quickly he arranged the weeklong training at their base in Alabama. This clearly was not the US government.

  DP said, “Don’t get me wrong, Mitchum. Afghanistan is no picnic. But it’s calmed down a lot in the last few months. I think you’ll like the work. And I know you’ll like the pay.”

  I woke up the next morning with an odd combination of anxiety and relief. Whatever the outcome of my adventure, I was going to see the world again, just like they told me in the Navy. I never thought I’d see Nevada while I was in the Navy, but I did. Same with Arizona and Cincinnati. I never considered them huge duty posts for the Navy.

  I drove my mom to the hospital in Newburgh because we were going to bring Natty home. At least to my mom’s home. She was very excited.

&
nbsp; I wasn’t terribly happy that my brother would be living under the same roof as Alicia.

  I’d carefully considered the best time to tell my mom I’d taken a job that was going to ship me to Afghanistan. Just the sort of topic to start the day off on the right foot. I considered doing it at the hospital in front of people so my mom wouldn’t fly off the handle. But waiting in the car, I realized it was time. I was as hesitant to start this conversation as anything I’d ever done.

  I said, “Mom, between your stay and Natty’s stay at the hospital, the bills are going to be outrageous.”

  Staring out the window, she let out a snort. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Okay, I will: I’ve taken a job with a security company and I’m going to have to go to Afghanistan for a couple of months.” Just like removing a Band-Aid, I decided to rip it off.

  The silence was chilling. I tried not to speak, just to see how long she’d go. After a full minute, I had to say, “Did you hear what I said?”

  Now her head twisted to face me. It reminded me of something from The Exorcist. I focused on the road with my eyes straight ahead.

  Finally, she said, “You’d desert your family at a time like this?”

  Ouch. She didn’t waste time getting right to the heart of the subject. I said, “I told you who shot Natty and ran you down. I’ve got a contact with the government who told me where the guy probably ran to. And that’s Afghanistan. What good can I do my family here in New York? No one believes any part of my story. Not from the hidden prison to this lunatic shooting Natty. This is my only option.”

  My mom toned it down and said, “It’s a hard story to swallow. I lived it, and I still doubt it. But we don’t need you risking your life. We need you here, with us.”

  She didn’t say much more until we got to the hospital. Alicia greeted me coolly. She was starting her shift. “I just visited Natty. He’s happy to be coming home. I told him I’d make brownies for him tonight.” She looked very seriously at my mother and said, “If that’s all right with you?”