Violets Are Blue

that he had been watching her place. He knew enough to come up the back stairs, and then he’d climbed a metal ladder onto the terrace.
    The lock on the door to the terrace of the apartment made a soft
click
. Then nothing happened.
    “We’re good, everything’s cool,” Jamilla whispered. “This time we win.”
    We waited in the dark near the door. It finally opened, oh so slowly. Kyle came inside. He moved toward us in a low crouch. Obviously, he couldn’t see where we were, but we could see him.
    I hit Kyle with all my weight, full force, every ounce of strength that I had. I slammed him hard against the living room wall. The whole apartment shook. Books and glasses fell to the floor from open shelves. I was surprised that we didn’t go right through the wall.
    I clipped his chin with an elbow, as hard as I could. Felt good. Kyle was wiry and strong, but I was pumped to take him. I hit him with a hard, short right hand. It snapped into his jaw. I hit him in the solar plexus. A real gut-wrencher.
    I was going to hit him again. But then Jamilla flicked on the room lights. My brain caught fire. My body shuddered.
    It wasn’t Kyle Craig.

Chapter 100

    “GET DOWN, get down! Get below the windows!” I yelled at Jamilla.
    I was afraid she might be hit by rifle fire. Kyle could be out there, and I knew that he could shoot. She went down and lay facing me, and also the man I had tackled coming in the door. He looked as confused as I felt.
Who the hell was he? What had just happened? Who was this guy, and where was Kyle
?
    Jamilla had her service revolver pointed at his chest. Her hand was amazingly steady. His nose was bleeding badly from where I’d hit him. He was well built, probably early thirties, short haired, a light-skinned black man.
    Everything was complete chaos in my brain.
    “Who the hell are you?
Who are you
?” I yelled at the dazed, bleeding man on the floor.
    “FBI,” he panted. “I’m a federal agent. Put down the gun. Put it down now.”
    Jamilla was yelling too. “I’m San Francisco PD, and I’m definitely not putting down my gun, mister. What are you doing in my apartment?” she shouted. I could almost see her mind working, and she wasn’t thinking nice thoughts. “Talk to us!”
    He shook his head. “I don’t have to answer your questions. Wallet’s in the rear left pocket. Badge and ID. I’m FBI, goddamnit!”
    “Stay down,” I yelled. “There could be someone outside with a gun. Did Kyle Craig send you here?” I asked.
    The look on the agent’s face answered the question for me, but he refused to confirm or deny. “I told you, I don’t have to answer questions.”
    “You sure as hell do.” Jamilla got in the last word.
    I did the only thing I could under the circumstances — I called the FBI.
    Four agents from the San Francisco office got to the apartment at a little past five in the morning. We were wary of the windows, though I doubted that Kyle was still nearby. Or even in San Francisco. The Mastermind was a step ahead. I should have known, and in a way I
had
known, that he wouldn’t do the expected.
    During the next couple of hours, exasperated agents from the Bureau tried to reach Kyle Craig. They couldn’t, and it shook them up. They began to give some credence to my story that Kyle might be the man behind murders going back for several years. Kyle had sent the agent to Jamilla’s apartment and ordered him to break in. He’d told the agent that someone had murdered an SFPD inspector and Alex Cross inside.
    Then things started to get really hot.
    I was the one who heated them up.

Chapter 101

    AT SEVEN-THIRTY in the morning, I was on the receiving end of a phone call from FBI director Ronald Burns in Washington. Burns was cautious and wary, so I knew he wouldn’t call me himself unless he had evidence that there were serious problems with Kyle. I was still confused, and hurt, but I recognized the emotions as appropriate and sane. Kyle Craig was the madman, not me.
    “Tell me whatever you know, Director,” I said. “I know a lot about Kyle, but you know things that I don’t. Tell me what they are. It’s important that I know everything.”
    Burns didn’t answer right away. There was a long pause on his end of the line. I knew him well enough to know that he was a friend of Kyle’s. At least he thought he had been. We’d all been wrong, for so long. We’d been fooled, and betrayed, by someone we had trusted.
    Finally, Burns began to speak.