Cross Country

by James Patterson

  The place was like an impossible maze, with rows of identical huts wherever we looked. And so many displaced people, thousands and thousands, many of them sick and dying.

  I took a deep breath, fighting off the day’s frustration. “All right. Let’s go. You’re right.”

  We started picking our way back and had just come around a corner, when I stopped again. I put a hand out to keep Adanne from taking another step. “Hold up. Don’t move,” I said quietly.

  I had spotted a large man ducking out of one of the shelters. He was wearing what I’d call street clothes anywhere else. Here, they marked him as an outsider.

  He was huge, both tall and broad, with dark trousers, a long white dashiki, and sunglasses under a heavy brow and shaved head.

  I took a step back, just out of sight.

  It was him. I was sure it was the same bastard I’d seen at Chantilly. The Tiger—the one I was chasing.

  “Alex—”

  “Shh. That’s him, Adanne.”

  “Oh, my God, you’re right!”

  The man gestured to someone out of sight, and then two young boys walked out of the shelter behind him. One was nobody to me. The other wore a red-and-white Houston Rockets jersey. I recognized him instantly from Sierra Leone.

  Adanne gripped my arm tightly and she whispered, “What are you going to do?”

  They were walking away but were still in plain sight.

  “I want you to wait five minutes and then find your way back. I’ll meet you.”

  “Alex!” She opened her mouth to say more but stopped. It was probably my eyes that told her how serious I was. Because I had realized that everything I’d been told was true. The rules I knew just didn’t apply here.

  There was no taking him in—no transporting him back to Washington.

  I was going to have to kill the Tiger, possibly right here in the Abu Shouk camp.

  I had few qualms about it either. The Tiger was a murderer.

  And I had finally caught up with him.

  Chapter 91

  I HUNG BACK, following the killer at a distance. It sure wasn’t hard to keep him in sight. I had no specific plan. Not yet.

  Then I saw a shovel sitting unattended outside somebody’s hut. I took it and kept moving.

  It was just past sunset, a time when everything looked tinted with blue, and sound carried. Maybe he heard me, because he turned around. I ducked out of sight, or at least I hoped so.

  The huts along the footpath were packed in tightly. I wedged myself into a foot-wide gap between two of them. The walls on either side were crude mud-brick. They grated on my arms as I tried to push my way through and get the Tiger back in sight.

  I had made it about halfway, when one of his young thugs stepped out into the alley.

  He didn’t move. He just shouted something in Yoruban.

  When I looked over my shoulder, Houston Rockets was at the other end of the alley. I could see the white of his grin but not his eyes in the dim half-light.

  “It’s him,” he called out in a high-pitched voice, almost a giggle. “The American cop!”

  Something slammed hard into the wall inside the hut. The entire hut buckled, and large chunks of dried mud fell into the alley.

  “Again!” Houston Rockets yelled.

  I realized what was happening—they meant to crush me in the narrow passageway.

  The whole wall exploded then. Bricks and debris and dirt poured down on my head and shoulders.

  I waded forward, took a hard swing, and struck the nearest punk with my shovel.

  And then—I found myself face-to-face with the Tiger.

  Chapter 92

  “NOW YOU WILL die,” he said to me matter-of-factly, as if the deed were a foregone conclusion.

  I didn’t doubt that he was telling the truth.

  He looked incredibly calm, his eyes barely registering emotion as he reached forward and grabbed me by the arm and throat. My only thought was to hold on to the shovel, and to swing it if I got the chance.

  He threw me back down the alley as easily as if I were a child. No, a child’s doll. I landed hard on splintering wood and plaster. Something sharp sliced into my back.

  I registered Houston Rockets blocking the other escape route. There was nowhere for me to run.

  The Tiger came charging at me. So I swung the shovel as hard as I could, going for the bastard’s knees.

  The shovel head connected—not a home run, but maybe a double. The Tiger buckled, but he didn’t go down. Unbelievable. I’d hit him in the kneecaps and there he stood, glowering at me.

  “That’s all you have?” he said.

  It was as though he didn’t feel anything at all. So I raised the shovel again and struck his left arm. He must have been hurt, but he didn’t show it, his face revealing no more emotion than a wall of slate.

  “Now—my turn,” he said. “Can you take a punch?”

  Suddenly a floodlight hit my eyes. There were voices behind it. Who was there?

  “Ne bouge pas!”

  I heard footsteps scuffing on the dirt and the metallic rustle of guns. Suddenly, green-helmeted AU soldiers were in the alley with us, three of them.

  “Laisse la tomber!” one of the soldiers yelled.

  It took a second to realize I was just as much a suspect here as the Tiger. Or, worse—maybe I was the only suspect.

  I dropped the shovel and didn’t wait for any more questions. “This man is wanted in the United States and Nigeria for murder. I’m a policeman.”

  “Tais-toi!” One of the soldiers said and put his rifle right in my face. Jesus! The last thing I wanted was to have my nose broken again.

  “Listen to me! Écoutez-moi!” This was a Senegalese platoon, and my French wasn’t the greatest. The scene was getting more insane and out of control by the second. “He’s got two accomplices. Deux garçons, vous comprenez? They are all murderers!”

  That last remark got me a punch in the gut. I doubled over, trying to catch my breath while the Tiger just stood there, mute, uttering not a word of protest.

  Perfectly calm. Smarter than I was.

  And in control? I wondered.

  Chapter 93

  THEY BROUGHT US both out of the alley at gunpoint and made us kneel in the dirt. A crowd had gathered, maybe a couple hundred people already.

  There were only five AU troops on the scene, barely enough to cover us and keep everyone else back a few yards. Several people were pointing—at the Tiger. Because he was so large? Or because they knew who he was? Or maybe how dangerous?

  “Alex? Alex?” I heard Adanne’s voice, and nothing could have sounded more welcome to me.

  Then I saw her push through the crowd to the front. Her eyes went wide when she spotted the Tiger kneeling a few feet away from me. He saw her too.

  “Let me through! I’m with the Guardian.” She took an ID out of her pocket, but a soldier shoved her back.

  She called out to me again, and she kept yelling, risking her own safety. “Alex! Tell them that the Guardian is doing your story! Tell them the Guardian is here. I will write their story.”

  But then my ears took in something else—the high-pitched whine of a vehicle traveling in reverse!

  Was that right? Was I hearing it correctly? Who was coming now?

  The crowd on one side started to stir, from the rear at first. Then people were scattering wildly, screaming or cursing.

  Everything was turning to chaos, even worse than it had been.

  I could see a black pickup truck now, backing toward us at high speed. It weaved recklessly along the very narrow street, taking out several shade canopies as it came. There were gunshots too, possibly coming from the truck.

  The AU team scrambled back first. Then the truck stopped twenty yards away.

  Houston Rockets was in the back, shielding himself with a young girl. She was maybe twelve or thirteen. He had one arm around her throat. His other hand—held high over his head—was holding a grenade for everyone to see
.

  The Tiger wasted no time. He jumped up and ran for the truck. The passenger door opened for him and he disappeared inside.

  I saw his huge hand come out and slap the roof hard.

  As the pickup raced away, the young girl was thrown from the back. Thank God for that anyway.

  But as we watched in shock, she clawed the air with both arms and hit the ground with her head. Then she exploded!

  Houston Rockets must have shoved the grenade into the girl’s clothing. They had no reason to kill her. The murder was just for show—or maybe for my eyes.

  Or Adanne’s?

  Chapter 94

  THE NEXT MORNING, we returned to Lagos, exhausted and with heavy hearts. Clearly, this kind of insanity happened often here. How could the people bear it?

  Adanne insisted that her family put me up for a day or so. “Whatever you need, Alex. I want to get this killer as badly as you do. I’ve written about him enough.”

  She had her own apartment in the city, but we drove to her parents’ house on a part of Victoria Island—to a side of this fascinating megacity that I hadn’t seen before.

  The streets here were wide and clean, with no buildings taller than two stories. Most of the homes sat behind yellow or pink stucco walls. Still, there was a familiar smell of fruit and flowers decaying in the air.

  Adanne pulled up to a gate and punched in a code.

  “Alex,” she said before we got out of her car, “I prefer to save my parents the stress and worry. I told them we’ve been in Abuja. They’re worried about civil war.”

  “Okay,” I agreed. “Abuja it is.”

  “Thank you. You’re very kind,” she whispered up close to my ear. “Oh, here they are. They’ll think you’re a new boyfriend. But I’ll clear that up, don’t worry.”

  Everyone was coming out through the carport to the parking pad as we pulled in. I was still pondering the idea of Adanne’s new boyfriend.

  Two boys, adorable, smiling twins in school uniforms and undone neckties, appeared. They were elbowing each other to be the first to open Adanne’s door.

  There were hugs all around for Adanne and then introductions for me. I was a policeman from America who was helping her with an important story. I was not a new boyfriend. Adanne had everyone laughing about that absurdity within seconds. Ha, ha, what a comedienne she was.

  Chapter 95

  I MET HER mother, Somadina, her father, Uchenna, her sister-in-law, Nkiru, and the nephews, James and Calvin. They couldn’t have been warmer or nicer people. It seemed utterly natural to them that a complete stranger should come stay in their home for an unspecified amount of time.

  The house was a modest one-story but with lots of windows and interesting views. From the foyer, I saw a walled backyard with tamarind trees and flower gardens. I could smell the hibiscus, even from inside.

  Adanne showed me to her father’s office. The walls in here, like in Adanne’s office at the Guardian, were covered with framed news stories.

  I noticed that a couple of them dealt with a gang of killer boys, and the man who led them. The name Tiger wasn’t used, however.

  “Are these all yours?” I asked, looking around. “You’ve been a busy girl, haven’t you?”

  She was a little sheepish now, the first embarrassment I had seen from her.

  “Let’s say I’ve never had to wonder if my father is proud of me. My mother as well.”

  I also noticed a framed military portrait on the desk—a young soldier with Adanne’s features and her eyes.

  “Your brother?”

  “Kalu, yes.” She went over and picked it up. Instantly there was sadness in her eyes.

  “He was with the Engineering Corps. My big brother. I adored him, Alex. You would have liked him.”

  I wanted to ask what had happened to him, but I didn’t.

  “I’ll tell you, Alex. Two years ago, he went to Niku—for a meeting at the Ministry of Urban Development. There was a dinner that night. A private function at a popular restaurant. No one knows exactly what happened, but all fifteen people there were found dead. They were massacred with guns and machetes.”

  The Tiger? I wondered. And his killer boys? Was that why she had written about him? And maybe why I was here now? Was everything finally coming together?

  Adanne set the picture down with a sigh. Then she absently ran her fingers through her braids. Once again, I couldn’t help noticing how beautiful she was. Stunning, really. There was no getting around it.

  “That was the first time I ever heard of the Tiger. Only because I did my own digging. The ‘official’ investigation by the police went nowhere. As usual.”

  “And you’re still digging?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Maybe someday I can tell my parents that Kalu’s murder is solved. That would be the greatest thing, ‘make my career,’ as they say. In the meantime, we don’t talk about it here, you understand?”

  “I understand. And I’m sorry.”

  “No need for that, Alex. I’m working on a story that’s larger and more important than any particular killer. It’s about the people who hire them, the ones who want to control our country. Honestly, the story scares even me.”

  For a few seconds, neither of us said anything, which was unusual for us. We looked at each other, and there was a sudden but undeniable charge in the silence.

  Like most of the men she met, no doubt, I wanted to kiss Adanne, but I held myself back. I didn’t want to insult her or dishonor her parents, or, more important, Bree.

  She smiled at me. “You are a good man, Alex. I wasn’t expecting that—in an American.”

  Chapter 96

  I EXCUSED MYSELF for a few minutes and borrowed Adanne’s mobile to make a call. I didn’t think Ian Flaherty would pick up, but I wanted to at least try and reestablish contact with the CIA.

  So I was surprised when Flaherty answered on the second ring, and then shocked when he knew it was me calling.

  “Cross?”

  “Flaherty? How did you do that?”

  “Caller ID, ever heard of it?”

  “But—”

  “Tansi. Your girlfriend’s name is on the AU flight record along with yours. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Both of you—she’s a celebrity too. Writes controversial articles, one after the other. She’s a big deal down here. We need to talk. Seriously. You finally have my interest. And so does your killer, the Tiger.”

  “Hang on a second. Slow down.” I’d forgotten how quickly Flaherty could piss me off. “You’ve been looking for me? Since when? I only tried you about sixteen times.”

  “Since I learned something you want to know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He didn’t answer right away. “I mean, I found out something you want to know.”

  It was suddenly obvious to me that he didn’t trust the phone line. I stopped to regroup for a second and picked up a pen from the desk.

  “Where can I meet you?”

  “Let’s say tomorrow, same time as before, at the place on that card I gave you. You know what I’m talking about, Detective Cross?”

  He meant the bank on Broad Street but didn’t want to name it, obviously. It was a Victoria Island location, so it was perfect for me.

  “Got it. I’ll see you then.”

  “And dress nice, Detective. Wear a tie or something.”

  “A tie?” I said. “What are you talking about?”

  But he’d already hung up on me.

  The prick.

  Chapter 97

  EVERYONE WAS WAITING for me on the patio after my call—with palm wine and kola nuts untouched until I got there.

  First though, Adanne’s father, Uchenna, blessed the nuts in the Yoruban custom, and the boys, James and Calvin, passed them around.

  Adanne seemed to be finding my visit either very joyful or amusing, and she was smiling all the time. I could tell she was happy to be home.

  Then the boys got me into a little backyard soccer. The twi
ns were either polite or genuinely impressed that I could juggle the ball a little, even as they schooled me up and down the yard. But it felt good to be running around with the kids. Nice boys. Not killers.

  Dinner was a chicken stew called egusi—and fufu, which is pounded yam for dipping in the broth. There were also fried plaintains, served with a spiced tomato sauce that could have taken the paint off a car. The family setting seemed familiar to me, yet different at the same time, and I ate easily the best meal I’d had in Africa.

  Uchenna’s favorite topic clearly seemed to be his daughter, Adanne. I learned more about her in those few hours than in all the time she and I had spent together before coming back to Lagos. Adanne jumped in to tell her own version of a few of her father’s stories, but when Somadina dragged out the baby pictures, she surrendered and went off to the kitchen to clean up.

  While she was gone, the conversation got more serious, and her father spoke of the tragic murders of Christians in northern Nigeria, and then of the reprisals by Christians in the east. He told me the story of a Christian schoolteacher who was recently beaten to death by her Muslim students.

  Finally, Uchenna talked about the provocative newspaper articles his daughter wrote on a weekly basis and said how dangerous they were.

  But mainly there was laughter in the house that night. Already I felt at home. This was a good family, like so many families here in Lagos.

  After Nkiru took the boys to bed and Adanne rejoined the group, the conversation turned to politics and grown-up talk again. There had been four bombings in Bayelsa State that week, down in the Delta region near the oil fields. The pressure for Nigeria to split into independent states was growing along with the violence all around the country.

  “It is all about bad men. All of it, always has been,” Adanne said. “It’s time that the world was run by women. We want to create, not destroy. Yes, I’m serious, Daddy. No, I haven’t had too much wine.”