Cross Country (9 page)

I
WAS WAY beyond ready to get out of this nightmarish prison, but I was also stupefied by everything that had happened to me since I had arrived in Lagos.

"Not now." He walked over and opened a door and gestured for me to go out first. The two guards didn't even look up. One of them was scribbling in a file and the other was jabbering on the phone when we left. Business as usual here in the bowels of hell.

As soon as the door closed behind us, Flaherty took my arm. "You need some help?"

"Jesus, Flaherty. Thank you."

"They break your nose?"

"Feels that way."

"Looks it too. I know a guy. Here." He handed me a small bottle of water and I started to empty it down my throat. "Go slow, fella."

He steered me over to an old off-white Peugeot 405 parked under a shade tree nearby. My duffel was already in the back seat. "Thank you," I said again.

Once we were moving, I asked him, "How did you do this?"

"When you didn't show up on Thursday, I figured there were only a few possibilities. A hundred got me your name. Another five hundred got you out."

He took a business card from his breast pocket and handed it to me. It was from Citibank, with an address in Lagos. On the back in blue ballpoint was written ACROSS9786EY4.

"You're going to want to change that pass code. And probably wire in another grand or so if you can."

"What about my family?" They came rushing into my mind all at once. "Have you spoken with them? Do they know what's happening?"

"Listen, don't take this the wrong way, but I'm not your social worker. I know you probably feel like you've been through the eighteenth circle of hell or whatever, but you can't count on me for this kind of shit. Okay? I don't mean to be harsh. But that's the way it is here these days. There's a lot going on right now."

He tipped a Camel Light out of a pack, lit it, and blew twin streams of smoke through his nostrils. "You can call them from the hotel. Your family."

"I'm moved by your compassion."

He grinned straight ahead. I guess we understood each other. Mine was obviously not the saddest or worst story Ian Flaherty had heard in Lagos. Probably not by a long shot.

"You have any food in this car?" I asked him.

He reached over and popped the glove compartment. There was a chocolate protein drink in a can. It was warm and a little gritty, and nothing had ever tasted better to me.

I threw my head back, closed my eyes, and tried for the first time in three days to relax and, maybe, think in straight lines about the murder investigation and what had just happened to me.

A
HEAVY THUD woke me from a hot, sweaty, and unpleasant sleep.

"What the fuck?" Flaherty craned his head around.

We were caught in a bad traffic jam, with cars as far as I could see in front or behind us. "Area Boys. I should have guessed." He frowned and pointed.

I saw them in the side mirror first. There were at least half a dozen of them. Teenagers, it looked like. They were going from car to car, passing some and stopping at others, robbing drivers and passengers.

"Area Boys?" I asked.

"Like gangbangers, without the bling. Just cockroach thugs. Don't worry about them."

Two cars back, a flat-faced boy in an old Chicago Bulls jersey reached into someone's driver's-side window and threw a punch. Then his hand came out holding a briefcase.

"We should do something, shouldn't we?" I reached for the door handle, but Flaherty pulled me back.

"Do what? Arrest all of them? Put 'em in the trunk? Just let me handle this."

Another kid, shirtless with a shaved head and an angry spray of zits across his face, ambled up alongside our car. He leaned halfway into Flaherty's window and raised his fist.

"Give me ya fuckin' wallet, oyinbo man," he yelled at the top of his voice. "Give it now!"

Flaherty's hand was already reaching down under the seat. He pulled out a Glock and pointed it at the kid from his lap.

"How about you give me your fuckin' wallet, sucko?" he snapped. The kid stepped back, both hands up, with a sneer on his face. "Or maybe I should say boy, boy. That's right, keep moving before I change my mind."

"Not this one, bros," the kid called out to his friends and made a thumb and forefinger gun for them.

One of them drummed on the trunk anyway as they passed, but they kept going. Nobody else bothered us.

Flaherty saw that I was staring at him.

"What? Listen, when I come to DC, you can tell me what's what. Okay? Meanwhile, just try to remember where you are."

I turned and looked through the windshield and saw another driver getting robbed while we just sat there.

"Hard to forget," I said.

I
REALIZED WITH a jolt that my investigation could actually continue now, and that it was going to be something like a criminal investigation on Mars. That's how different life was here in Nigeria at this point in time.

It was also right near the airport. Three days in Nigeria, and I'd managed one small circle.

"Why'd you bring me here?" I asked as I changed my shirt in the backseat.

"I thought you might want to catch a plane in the morning. One can always hope."

"A plane to where?"

"To home, duh. You should leave now, Detective Cross. Before they get serious about hurting you. You're not going to get to the Tiger, but he could get to you."

I stopped talking and stared at Flaherty. "The Tiger?"

"T
HAT'S HIS NAME, Detective Cross. Didn't you know? Actually, several of these gang bosses are called Tiger. But our guy was the first."

"If I did, I'd take you there right now and get this over and done with."

I tossed my bloodied shirt into a trash can and picked up my duffel. "What time can I meet you tomorrow?"

Flaherty grinned just a little. I think it was partial approval. "I'll call you."

"What time?"

"As early as I can. Get some rest. If you're not here in the morning, I'll know you're actually sane."

Before he took off, I borrowed some cash so I could pay for the first night at the Superior and also buy a phone card.

Forty-five minutes later, I was showered and fed, and waiting for my overseas call to go through.

The room was definitely nothing special. It was maybe 10 x 15, with chipped stucco walls, and the occasional water bug for company.

The bellhop hadn't been surprised to find the bathroom sink fixtures gone. He promised new ones soon. I didn't really care. After jail, the room felt like the presidential suite to me.

When Jannie answered the phone and I heard her voice for the first time, a lump rose in my throat. I forgot about the fact that my nose was throbbing and sporadically leaking blood.

"Well, look who's not in school today," I said, trying to keep it light and bright.

"It's Saturday, Daddy. Are you losing track of time over there? You sound like you have a cold, too."

I touched my sore and broken nose. "Yeah, I guess I'm a little stuffed up. I'll live. I'm actually staying at one of the best hotels in town."

"Alex, is that you?" Nana was on the extension now, and more than a little peeved, I could tell. "Where have you been for three days? That's unacceptable behavior to me."

"I'm sorry, Nana. It's been a lot harder getting a line out than I thought," I said and then started asking a lot of questions to avoid any more of my not quite lies.

Jannie told me about the fruit flies in her science experiment and about some new neighbors on Fifth Street. Nana was worried that the boiler noise in the basement was the same one that had cost nine hundred dollars the last time.

Then Ali got on to tell me that he could find Nigeria on the map and that the capital was Lagos, and he knew what the population was — more than one hundred thirty-five million.

Then Nana said she was going to put Bree on.

"She's there?" I was a little surprised. Bree had planned on moving back to her apartment while I was away.

"Someone's got to watch over us around here," Nana said pointedly. "Besides, she's one of us now. Bree is family."

I
LIKED WHAT Nana had just said and also the sound of Bree's voice when she got on the line. I heard a door close and knew we were being given some privacy.

"I know. Nana's tough, isn't she? But she can be sweet too."

I laughed. "She's pulling punches because you're there. She's manipulating you already."

"Speaking of which, don't bullshit me now, Alex. Where have you been for the past three days?"

"Detective Stone, is that you?" I said. "I guess you missed me?"

"Of course I did. But I asked a serious question. I've been worried sick for three days. We all have, especially Nana."

"Okay, here's what happened, and it's part of the case. It has to be. I was arrested at the airport."

"Arrested?" Bree said it in a whisper that registered new concern. "By who? At the airport? On what possible grounds?"

"On the grounds that due process is a relative concept around the world, I guess. I was in a holding cell for two and a half days. They never charged me with anything."

Her voice slipped a little — more Bree and less Detective Stone. "How bad was it?"

"Scale of ten, I'd give it a fifteen, but I'm mostly okay now. I'm at the Superior Hotel. Of course, that's just a name. There's nothing superior about this joint."

I looked out the window, where dark thunderheads were rolling in over the gulf. The pool area, ten stories down, was starting to clear out. It was hard to believe I'd woken up in Kirikiri just that morning.

"Listen, Alex, I don't know if you want to hear this right now, but we had another multiple last night. Another family was slaughtered over in Petway. This time, the parents were Sudanese nationals."

I sat down on the bed. "Same MO as the first two?" I asked.

"Yeah. Large knives, possibly machetes, extreme malice. Just ugly for the sake of ugly, cruel for the sake of cruel. Whether or not your boy and his gang were here, I'll bet his people were involved."

"Apparently the murderer is called the Tiger. So I'm playing Catch a Tiger. He could have ordered a hit from anywhere."

"That's right. Or he could be back in Washington, Alex. You could be over there, while he's here."

Before I could respond, there was a sudden flash from outside and a huge smack of thunder overhead. The lights in the room flickered, then went out, taking the phone with them.

"Bree?" I said. "Bree, are you there?"

But the line was dead. Shit. I hadn't even told Bree how much I missed her.

I'd seen candles and at least one propane generator in the lobby, so I guess they were used to this kind of thing at the Superior. I lay back on my bed and closed my eyes, figuring I'd go down and check things out if the power didn't come back on soon.

Meanwhile, what was the upshot of the new murders in DC? And what did they mean for me?

Was the killer I was chasing — the Tiger — still here in Nigeria?

Or had I come all this way just to get my nose broken?

M
Y PHONE WAS ringing.

I finally blinked awake, starting to come out of a deep comalike sleep. The clock flashed 12:00, 12:00, 12:00 on the bedside table next to my face.

It was morning, and the power at the hotel was obviously back on.

When I rolled over to answer the phone, my whole body resisted with an aching stiffness and the pain of severe bruising. It brought everything back into focus. Jail, the beatings, the murder of Ellie and her family, the investigation.

"Alex Cross," I said.

"Don't do that."

"Who is this?"

"It's Flaherty. Don't answer the phone with your name. You never know who—"

"What time is it?" I asked Flaherty. Too early for a lecture anyway.

I stared up at the ceiling, then down the length of my body. I was still in my clothes, and my mouth felt like paste. My busted nose was throbbing again too. There were bloodstains all over the pillow, both dark and bright red.

"Eleven o'clock. I've been calling all morning. Listen. I can give you a couple of hours if you make it soon, and then I'm out on assignment till next Monday."

"What have you got? Anything at all?"

"Besides the eczema on my ass? I've got the closest thing to a cooperative contact you're going to find in Lagos. You been to the bank yet?"

"I haven't been to the John yet."

"Yeah, well, sleep when you're dead, right? Get yourself a driver. The front desk'll set it up, but tell them you want it for the day, not by the hour. You're welcome for the travel tip."

"Go to the Citibank on Broad Street. And tell the guy to take the causeway so it'll sound like you know what the hell you're talking about. If you get going, you can make it by one. I'll meet you there. And don't be late. Citibank on Broad."

"Yeah, I got it the first time."

"I could tell you were a quick study. Get going!"