Double Cross

any alternatives, at least not one that we could afford.
    So we checked into a motel, where neither of us got much sleep. Not being able to help Sampson during those critical first hours was killing both of us, but especially me. John and I had been best friends since we were kids, and I had a bad feeling about this. Still, I was with Bree, and we slept in each other’s arms.
    We finally arrived in DC on Sunday—wired but totally focused. I called Billie Sampson from the gate and told her we’d be at their house in twenty minutes. I checked in with Superintendent Davies on our way to the car. He was overseeing this personally. Davies was a friend of John’s too.
    “New development while you were in the air,” Davies told me. “The bastard’s running a Webcast sometime today.”
    “What do you mean? What kind of Webcast? What time?”
    “We don’t have all the details yet. There was an e-mail around two—same distribution as the last one.” That meant a full media press. “He gave the URL for his site and just said it’d be going live by tonight.”
    “Bree and I will be there as soon as we can. We’re going to see Billie Sampson first. It’s more or less on the way. Don’t take it off-line! Let it keep running. We need to see what he’s up to.”
    “Already with you on that. It may be our only way to track this.” And by
this
, we both knew Davies meant Sampson’s murder and the gross public spectacle it was meant to become.
    I hung up with Davies just as we got to the car.
    “What did he say?” Bree wanted to know.
    I didn’t answer right away. I was too busy staring at a package that was tape-mounted to the driver’s door.
    White paper, silver duct tape. I’d seen something very much like it before.
    “Bree? Listen to me, now. Back away from the car. Come over here with me. Take it very slow, and keep back.”
    She came around to look. “Jesus. Is it an explosive?”
    “I don’t know what it is.” I took out my Mini Maglite and leaned in for a closer look. “It could be anything.”
    But when it
toned
, we both jumped back real fast.

Chapter 114

    IT TOOK US a couple of seconds to realize that the sound we were hearing was a ringing phone and that it was
inside
the package.
    I tore open the white paper and got a handful of doughnut crumbs, along with a black Motorola. The doughnut was some kind of lame cop joke, I figured.
    Instead of caller ID, the phone showed a picture. It was of Sampson, and he was blindfolded. There was a wide gash and dried blood on the side of his face. I took a deep breath to keep the anger from overwhelming me before I answered the call.
    “Bell?”
    “Cross?”
He mocked my inflection.
    “Where is he?”
    “I talk. You listen. Now, I want both of you to take out your own phones and hold them in the air. Hold them between two fingers, if you would.”
    “No, you listen to me. I want to talk to Sampson before I do anything.”
    There was a pause and a shuffle, then I heard a muted “
It’s for you
.”
    Then Sampson’s voice, clear and unmistakable. “Alex, don’t do it!”
    “John —” I called out.
    But Bell was already back on the line. “Your phones? In the air.
Both
of them.”
    I swiveled around and scanned the garage. Someone was definitely watching us, relaying information, but I didn’t see anyone anywhere.
    “Now or never, Dr. Cross. You don’t want me hanging up on you. Trust me. You don’t.”
    “Bree, get out your phone. Hold it in the air.”
    He had us put the cell phones behind the back wheels of my car and then get in.
    “Now back up. Over the phones. Then leave the garage, and take a right turn.”
    “Where are we going?”
    “No questions. Just go. Hurry! Time’s running out.” I heard the crunch of our cells as I backed out over them.
    “Fuck,” Bree muttered. She wasn’t angry about the phones, just that we were following his orders.
    We had barely hit the street when Bree scribbled something and held it down low for me to see.
Black Highlander, DC plates. Female. Two cars behind
.
    I saw the Highlander and the woman driver in my rearview mirror. Long, dark hair. Sunglasses. I couldn’t tell much of anything else.
    “Who’s the tail, Bell? Is that my friend from Baltimore?”
    There was a sickening thud on the line, and I heard Sampson moan loudly.
    “That’s what questions get you from here on out. Got any more?”
    I didn’t answer.
    “Good thinking. Now take a left at the next light and keep your