Kill Alex Cross

that the answer would be yes. Whatever assignment you wanted, however you wanted to do your work. With a pretty free rein.”
    This was the Regina Coyle I didn’t know — the politician’s wife. I don’t mean that in a bad way. What I really saw was a mother living through her own worst nightmare and doing whatever she could to save her children.
    I set down my cup and took out a pen and a small pad from my jacket pocket.
    “May I?” I asked.
    “Of course,” she told me.
    It was time to start from square one with the president’s wife.
    “Tell me about Ethan and Zoe. What are your children like?”

THEIR HANDS WERE on the neck of the devil . Now it was time to tighten their grip.
    Hala sat cross-legged with the laptop on the bed. She dragged several of the files she’d been compiling to an encrypted disk image on her desktop and reviewed its contents one more time.
    Once the disk was finished, only the intended recipient would be able to open it. Every Family member assigned to Washington had his or her own unique sixteen-digit alpha-numeric string. Hala’s code had been what allowed her to access the disks she and Tariq had received up to this point.
    While she worked, she kept the local news playing on the television. There was a constant stream these days: frightened faces, traffic warnings, and of course endless speculation about what might be coming next.
    It was electrifying, for Hala, to be the one with the answer to that question. Uncle had entrusted her and Tariq with several key targets. Now it was up to them to decide where to strike first; pair the operatives with their assignments; and send out the orders.
    Any single one of those targets could change history — much less a fast, violent run through them all. That was exactly what Hala hoped to pull off. Every American life they could take was one more step in the proper direction. There was no such thing as too much punishment for the people of America.
    Or as they liked to say in this country of excess and greed: more is more .
    “Hala!”
    Tariq appeared suddenly in the bathroom door, dripping wet. His chubby body was drifted with mounds of soap bubbles and nothing else.
    “You look ridiculous,” she said, but with a laugh. It was good to see him so at ease. He was obviously drunk on their good fortune.
    “ Ha-laa! ” he sang out, and began a little dance for her while he was at it. “Come join me! The hot water is endless.”
    “Not while I’m working, darling. And it’s Julia, remember?” she said.
    “Ah, yes.” He grinned broadly. “I forgot that I’m in love with another woman.”
    They were Julia and Daniel Aziz from Philadelphia now, and they had American passports to prove it. They’d arrived at the Four Seasons just the day before. Uncle called it hiding in plain sight.
    The pace of all these changes was absolutely breathtaking. Only two days earlier, they’d been waiting in the dark to find out what would happen next — and now this.
    After Tariq had sloshed back into the tub, Hala returned to her work. Let him enjoy this ridiculous American palace a while longer, she thought. The less he worried, the better it was for everyone. As far as Tariq was concerned, everything had changed for them.
    But it hadn’t, of course. The elders were still watching. It was more important than ever that she and Tariq make a good impression, and soon. If they weren’t careful, they could become expendable to the Family just as quickly as they had risen to this position.
    Be prepared to die at any time .
    That, above all, remained true. Because it wasn’t just an opportunity they’d been given, Hala knew. It was also a test.
    This war was now in their hands.

I CAN’T SAY I was surprised to find out that Nana Mama had forbidden Bree from bringing Ava over to Child and Family Services the next day. Never mind that I’d insisted on the trip to Family Services. Bree told me on the phone that afternoon than Nana was digging in her heels.
    So I came home determined to get the situation taken care of myself.
    Nana was waiting for me when I got there. I found her alone, reading Little Bee at the kitchen table, like a security guard.
    “I need to talk to you,” she said.
    “I’m not going to fight about this, Nana. We can’t help every kid on the streets of DC,” I said, and kept moving.
    “Who said anything about that? ” she called after me, but I was already halfway to the stairs.
    I hated being cast as the bad guy. It