Cross Country

me.”
    The commander turned to the cop. “Again. Hit her.” He turned back to me.
“Alex!
Worry about her
.
”
    “Okay!” I cut him off. “The Tiger’s name is Abidemi Sowande. He disappeared in nineteen eighty-one, when he was nine years old, turned up in England at a university for two years, and hasn’t used that identity since.
    “He’s murdered a lot of people, here and in America. He uses wild boys. He may control other Tigers. That’s all I know. That’s everything I have. You know about the diamonds, the gasoline, the illegal trading.”
    The commander kept his hand in the air to hold off the next punch. “You’re sure that’s it?”
    “
I’m sure, goddammit!
I’m just a cop from Washington, DC. Adanne has nothing to do with this.”
    He squinted, thinking about it, and then seemed satisfied. His hand came down slowly. “I should kill you anyway,” he said. “But that’s not my choice.”
    Then I heard another voice in the room. “No, that would be
my
choice, Detective Cross.”

Chapter 112
    A MAN STEPPED out of the shadows, a large man —
the mercenary soldier known as the Tiger. The one I’d been chasing
.
    “No one seems to know much about me. That’s good, don’t you think? I want to keep it that way. She writes stories in newspapers, the London
Times,
maybe the
New York Times
. You get in the way a lot.”
    He walked over to me. “Unbelievable,” he said. “Some people fear you, eh? Not me. I find you to be a funny man. Big joke. The joke is on you, Detective Cross.”
    My body eased just a fraction. He didn’t seem angry, and he wasn’t concerned about me, but he was huge, and muscle-bound, as fierce as any man I’d ever seen.
    Then, with his eyes still on me, he said, “Shoot her. Wait. No, no. Give me a gun.”
    “
NO!
” I yelled.
    That’s all I got out. Adanne’s good eye flew open and she found me in this unbelievable nightmare we were sharing.
    The Tiger took a quick step forward. “Pretty girl,” he said. “Stupid bitch. Dead woman! You did this to her, Cross. You did this, not me.”
    Blam.
    Blam.

Chapter 113
    HE HAD FIRED a police service revolver close to her head. Twice. He missed on purpose, and he laughed merrily at the prank.
    “People find it difficult to believe that a black man can be clever and intelligent. Have you found that to be true,
Doctor
Cross? How about you, Adanne?”
    She didn’t answer, but she spit at him. “Murderer,” she said.
    “One of the best — and proud of my accomplishments.”
    Then he fired a third shot, right between Adanne’s eyes. Her body lurched forward, and she landed facedown on the ground. Her arms spread out like wings. Adanne didn’t move.
    As fast as that, as insane, she was gone. Adanne was dead in this horrid jail cell, murdered by the Tiger as the police looked on and did nothing to stop him.
    Rage poured out of me. There were no words for what I was feeling. A cord tightened around my throat, another around my forehead.
    Don’t worry about me,
Adanne had said. She
knew
they were going to kill her; she knew it all the time.
    Her killer stood over her and he watched me. Then he grinned. He dropped his trousers, went down on his knees, and committed his final outrage against Adanne.
    “Pretty girl,” he growled. “You did this to her. Never forget that, Detective.
Never
.”

Chapter 114
    ALEX, DON’T WORRY about me
.
    Don’t worry about me
.
    Don’t worry
.
    Night had become morning somehow, and I was still alive. I could see that it was light through the black fabric of a hood they made me wear. What’s more, I was being moved.
    The neck cord kept me oxygen hungry and weak as they dragged me outside. They threw me like cargo into the backseat of a truck or van, a vehicle with a high step and a diesel engine.
    Then we drove for a long time. I kept my eyes open inside the hood. Still, all I could see in my mind was the last moment when Adanne was alive, and then . . .
    The Tiger had killed her, and worse. He thought I was a joke. He said I was no threat to him. Just another policeman. We’d see.
    If I lived through the next few hours or so.
    As the ride continued, I prayed for Adanne and for her family. I told them, in my own way, that this wasn’t over yet. Not that it mattered to them. But it did to me. I wondered why I was still alive. It made no sense to me. Another mystery.
    When we finally stopped, car doors opened on either side of me. Now what?
    Somebody shoved my head down into