Kill Alex Cross

before they closed the door was Rodney Glass, raising a hand my way to wave good-bye.
    Jesus. What had I just done? He’d gotten exactly what he’d wanted, hadn’t he?
    I’d risen to the bait.

I WAS CROUCHED down in the hall, trying to regroup, still angry but also embarrassed about what had happened with Glass, when I realized someone was standing over me.
    “Take a walk?”
    I looked up from a pair of black steel-toed boots to see Ned Mahoney, holding out a hand.
    “How’d you know I was here?” I said.
    “After that little scene? I think everyone knows you’re here,” Ned said. Several other people had stopped and were still staring. “Come on. Let’s go breathe some air.”
    “You didn’t answer my question,” I told him.
    “That’s true,” he said, and headed up the hall. So I stood and followed.
    We wound our way down to the ground floor of Liberty Crossing and out through the west lobby. The whole place is a huge X-shaped complex, with one of those sterile concrete plazas in the crook of the two main wings. We stopped there and took a seat on one of several empty benches overlooking the parking area down below.
    The dropping temperature outside didn’t do much to cool me off while I told Ned what had happened. In fact, talking about it only made me feel worse.
    “I screwed up, Ned. Glass is probably going to be home in his own bed tonight, while Ethan and Zoe …” I shook my head. I couldn’t even finish.
    “That would have happened whether you went off the deep end with him or not,” Ned told me. “You said so yourself. He’s too clean, too smart.”
    “Clean as dirt,” I said. “Goddamnit. But I know we can get him.”
    Mahoney was uncharacteristically slow to respond. Usually his brain has a direct line to his mouth. Then finally he said, “You’re sure Glass is the one?”
    I nodded. “I’m sure.”
    “And you can’t prove it?”
    “I can prove it,” I said. “Just not fast enough.”
    “So maybe it’s time to think about some alternatives,” he said.
    I felt a chill down my back, and not because of the stiff breeze blowing up from the parking lot. I let Ned go on.
    “Listen, I’m a company man when I need to be one,” he said. “If the system didn’t work at least some of the time, I couldn’t do this for a living. But guess what, Alex? It’s not working. Not on this one. It’s not even coming close to working.”
    “Hard to disagree. Glass is unusual, smarter than most.”
    I couldn’t get Ned to look at me. He just stared down at the pebbled concrete between his feet while he talked. This was Langley, after all. You never knew which bush had eyes, or which bench had ears.
    “Ned, you’re talking about —”
    “I’m not talking about anything,” he said. “But if I were, I’d tell you that I could pretty easily put my hands on some things you might need. Also, that I wouldn’t leave you hanging on this, if you’re interested.”
    I wanted to say, interested in what? But I was sure I already knew. Before I could say anything else, Ned got to his feet.
    “Go home, Alex. You’ve got my number if you want to … you know. Talk.”
    “Talk,” I said. “Right. I do have your number.”
    He hunched his shoulders against the wind and blew into his hands. “Should have worn a jacket out here,” he said. “Cold as hell.”
    Then he turned and walked away.
    Cold as hell for sure.

RECORD .
    “After I left Cross, I was almost overwhelmed by my own emotion. I’d done it, I’d won. I’d beaten all of them and I was still winning every single battle. Every one.
    “And yet I felt a subtle change in myself. Was I so filled with guilt … that I was someone different now? Why hadn’t I struck out at Cross?
    “The honest truth: I wasn’t as impressed by him as I thought I might be. But was he playing me? Setting me up for the kill? He was certainly physically imposing, and smart, I suppose. He’s definitely passionate about what he’s doing.
    “But I don’t believe he’s going to catch me, to stop me, to put me away for what I’ve done, the awful things.
    “I’m not afraid of Cross.
    “But that’s not what my feelings are about. This isn’t about the detective; it’s about me. I know that to be perfectly safe I should do nothing about him. I’m clever enough to figure out something deadly. I’m good enough to execute it, and get away with it.
    “So why haven’t I acted? What’s stopping me? Is it guilt? Remorse over what I’ve