Cross Country

continents — two completely different worlds. At least I thought so at the time.

Chapter 24
    THE BIG HEAT was on all of us now. It took me all of the next day to locate the CIA’s Eric Dana again, and then I found him only because he showed up at the Daly Building.
    I caught Dana coming out of Chief Davies’s office, and I saw the boss sitting inside before the door closed again. He wasn’t smiling, and he didn’t look up at me, though I was pretty sure he knew I was there.
    I walked up to Dana. “Where have you been all day? I called at least half a dozen times. I need your help on this case. What’s the problem?”
    The CIA man didn’t even break stride. “Talk to your CO. Metro is out of this. Chantilly was a disaster from our point of view. Our division head, Steven Millard, is involved at this point.”
    Millard. I’d heard that name from my buddy Al Tunney.
    I caught up with Dana at the elevator and elbowed my way through the closing door. “Where is the killer?” I asked him. “What do you know about him?”
    “We believe he’s left the country. We’ll let you know if he heads this way again,” the CIA man said, and he actually looked at me for the first time. “Stick to your own crime scenes, Cross. Do your job. I’ll do mine.”
    “Is that advice or a threat?” I asked Dana.
    “As long as you’re working in DC, it’s advice. I have no control or influence over you here.”
    His superior attitude was no surprise, and it didn’t steam so much as focus me. I reached over and flipped the red toggle in the elevator. We jerked to a stop, and a warning bell went off.
    “
Where
did he go, Dana?” I shouted. “Tell me where the hell he is!”
    “What’s the matter with you? This isn’t how the game is played.”
    When Dana reached for the switch, I grabbed his arm and held it.
    “Where did he go?” I asked again. “This isn’t a game to me.”
    Dana looked at me with hard eyes. He said, very evenly, “Let go of my arm, Cross. Get your hand the hell off me. He went back to Nigeria. The killer is out of your jurisdiction.”
    I knew I’d taken this too far, and it made me realize how emotional I was about this case, maybe even more than I knew. I let go, and he flipped the elevator back on without a word. We rode to the lobby in silence and I watched the CIA prick leave the building.
    The only question now was whether or not I could get around him. Maybe if I hurried. I dialed my cell phone from right there in the lobby of the Daly Building.
    “Al Tunney,” I heard a voice on the other end answer.
    “It’s Alex Cross. I need a favor,” I said.
    Tunney said, “No,” and groaned.
    Then he asked, “What is it?”
    I told him, and he groaned again, and I really couldn’t blame him.

Chapter 25
    “ALEX, YOU’RE TAKING this too far,” Bree said.
    “I know that. It’s what I do. It’s what I’ve always done.”
    Late that night, Bree and I were taking a ride around town. I like to drive late at night when the traffic thins out, and sixty, even seventy, isn’t a dangerous speed on most of these avenues. Once we got back to Fifth Street I was feeling better, but Bree was still wound up. She couldn’t stop pacing up in the bedroom. I had never seen her like this, agitated and unsure of herself.
    “See, the thing is, I’ve always been the one on the
other side
of this particular argument, the one trying to do the convincing. I’ve never been the person sitting there not buying it. You’re going over the top here, Alex. This latest plan of yours. Chase the killer back in Africa? Even under the circumstances, it’s — I don’t even know what to call it.”
    I started to speak, but she went on.
    “And you know
why
I don’t buy your arguments now, Alex? Because sometimes in your position, I’d lie. I don’t know how many times I’ve told my family there was nothing to worry about, or how safe I was going to be, when really I had no idea.
You
have no idea what you’ll find in Africa.”
    “You’re right,” I said, and not just to get her to stop pacing. “I won’t try to sell you some bill of goods here, Bree. But I will tell you that I’m not going to do anything stupid over there.”
    It was about eight hours after my confrontation with Eric Dana and my subsequent conversation with Tunney. Tunney had gone as far as setting me up with a CIA officer stationed in Nigeria — just before he told me never to call him again.
    I had the frequent-flier miles, so