Kill Alex Cross - James Patterson [40]
I hated leaving everything so undone the next morning, but it wasn’t exactly a call-in-sick kind of day. I got up at four thirty and made it out to Langley by six.
The morning was a beauty, a burst of burnt orange on the horizon, but I wasn’t going to see much more of it, was I?
The truth was, I didn’t want to be anchored at LX1. Cops are creatures of the field. It’s where we do our best work. I wanted to be out there chasing leads and working the case at street level. That’s where I might actually do some good.
Then about halfway through the day, I got my wish. Kind of.
It was just after one o’clock. Peter Lindley came out of his makeshift office at the command center and waved to get my attention. Half a dozen agents and supervisors were coming out behind him, and he motioned me over. I was next.
Mahoney caught my eye as I crossed the floor. I shrugged back. I had no idea what this was about. He gave me the old pinkie and thumb to his ear — call me later — and I nodded that I would. Ned will never admit it, but he hates to be left out of anything. He’s also a lot more ambitious than people might think.
“Come in,” Lindley told me. “And close the door behind you, please.”
The space was normally a conference room, but most of the chairs had been taken out. Lindley’s desk was just an eight-foot folding table in the middle of the room. He had a triple monitor set up, just like everyone else, and half a dozen phones. One of those was in his hand right now. He was also holding a small yellow Post-it note.
“As soon as I have you, I’m supposed to call Nina Friedman at the White House,” he said, wagging the Post-it. “Do you know who that is?”
“No idea,” I said. “Should I?”
“Regina Coyle’s deputy chief of staff,” Lindley said. “What’s going on, Alex? Why is the First Lady’s office looking for you? Is there something I need to know about?”
I couldn’t tell if Lindley was pissed off, overcaffeinated, or just trying to be thorough. Maybe he didn’t like feeling left out, the same as Ned Mahoney.
“Peter, I don’t know what to tell you,” I said. “I’m guessing this must have something to do with the kidnapping. Why don’t you give that number a call and we’ll both find out?”
He glared at me over the top of his half-frames like I was being coy or something. But he went ahead and dialed the number.
As soon as I took the phone from him, a woman’s voice was there.
“Detective Cross?”
“Speaking,” I said. “How can I help, Ms. Friedman?”
“I’m calling from the Office of the First Lady, here in the East Wing,” she said, unnecessarily. There was a rote kind of formality to her voice. “Are you available for a meeting with Mrs. Coyle?”
Even the question was a formality. Was I available for a meeting with the First Lady of the United States?
“Of course,” I said. “I could be there in about forty-five minutes.”
“Very good. I’ll have your name at the East Appointment Gate,” she said crisply. “I can meet you at the top of the drive, under the porte cochere.”
And out of sight of the press, if I was reading her correctly. This meeting wasn’t a secret, but discretion seemed to be the m.o.
When I hung up, Lindley was still staring at me. Two of his other phones were ringing, but he ignored them, waiting for an explanation.
“Well?” he said.
I shrugged. “I’m going to need some coverage on the desk.”
I didn’t really care if he thought I was tap-dancing or not. I had a meeting to get to.
AT THE WHITE house, there was all the expected, overt security– ID check and magnetometer at the East Gate; stepped-up Secret Service presence; Capitol Police everywhere. And then there was everything I couldn’t see. I wondered how many surveillance cameras and maybe even rifle sites were on me as I walked up the curved drive to the East Wing’s main entrance.
My only regret was that Sampson wasn’t here with me to see this. And Bree. And maybe Nana and the kids. A quick photo op with everybody?
Nina Friedman was waiting on the front steps as promised. She was just as efficient in person, juggling her BlackBerry to shake