Roses Are Red

seen. The second break was that the FBI agents in the hotel had learned that the room where the MetroHartford board was meeting, the Chinese Room, had a unique feature that would be useful to us. There was a narrow metal staircase directly behind it. The stairs led to a catwalk above the rotunda. There were small viewing holes there so we could watch and listen but not be seen.
    Betsey and I hurried up to the catwalk and crouched high over the meeting room. We needn’t have bothered.
    The kidnappers were still on the line.
    “We
assume
that the FBI and possibly the Washington police are involved at this point,” the voice of one of the kidnappers said over the speakerphone in the Chinese Room. “We have no objection. We fully expected it. In fact, we welcome the Bureau. We’ve written you into the plan.”
    Betsey and I shared looks of exasperation. The Mastermind was making us look bad. Why? We hurried downstairs and joined the others in the Chinese Room. My head was spinning with questions. The Mastermind was good at keeping us off balance. Too good.
    “First, I’m going to repeat our demands for the money,” the distorted voice on the speakerphone said. “This is important. Please follow the instructions. As you know, five million of the thirty should be in uncut diamonds. The diamonds must be packed in one duffel bag. There should be no more than eight other duffels. The cash must be in twenties and fifties. No hundred-dollar bills. No dye packs. No tracking devices of any kind. Now, who am I speaking to?”
    Betsey moved close to the speakerphone. So did I. “This is Special Agent Elizabeth Cavalierre. I’m Special Agent in Charge with the FBI.”
    “I’m Alex Cross, Washington police and liaison with the Bureau.”
    “Good for you. I’m familiar with both your names, your reputations. Is our money ready as requested?”
    “Yes, it is. The money and the diamonds are here at the Mayflower,” Betsey answered.
    “Excellent! We’ll be in touch.”
    We heard a
click
as he hung up the phone.
    The CEO of MetroHartford exploded in anger. “They knew you were here! Oh Christ, what have we done! They’ll kill the hostages!”
    I put a firm hand on his shoulder. “Take it easy. Please. Is the payoff arranged exactly as they’ve requested?” I asked.
    He nodded. “Exactly. The diamonds will be here any minute. The money has already arrived. We’re doing our part, everything that we can. What are you people doing?”
    I continued to speak in a soft voice. “And no one at MetroHartford has heard a word about where the money and diamonds are to be dropped? This is an important question.”
    The insurance executive was frightened, and with good reason. “You heard the man on the phone. He said they’d be in touch.
No,
we haven’t heard anything about where to drop the money and diamonds.”
    “That’s good news, Mr. Dooner. They’re acting in a professional way. So are we. I don’t believe they’ve harmed anyone yet. We’ll wait for the next call. The exchange is the hardest part for them.”
    “My wife is on that bus,” the chief executive said. “So is my daughter.”
    “I know,” I told him. “I know.”
    And I also knew that the Mastermind seemed to like hurting families.

Chapter 61
    IT WASN’T as if we weren’t doing everything we could, but we were at their mercy so far, and our time was running out. The clock was ticking. Very fast.
    No aircraft had spotted the tour bus, and that meant that the bus had gotten off the road quickly, or possibly that they’d changed the alphanumeric indicator on the roof. The heat-seeking army helicopters hadn’t found anything, either. At twenty past one, another call came to the Chinese Room at the Mayflower. It was the same disturbing, machine-distorted voice.
    “It’s time to move. There’s a delivery at the front desk for Mr. Dooner. Inside you’ll find Handie-Talkies. Bring all of them.”
    “Where are we going?” Betsey asked.
    “
We’re
going to be rich.
You’re
going to load the money and diamonds into a van and head north on Connecticut Avenue. If you deviate from the route I give you, a hostage will be shot.”
    The line went dead again.
    We had a van parked in the alley outside the hotel kitchen. The kidnappers knew we did. How, though? What did that tell us? Betsey Cavalierre and I and two other agents rushed outside to the van, then headed onto Connecticut Avenue.
    We were still on Connecticut when the Handie-Talkie went