Kill Me if You Can - James Patterson [89]
“It’s a two-way street, Manny,” I said, finally standing up.
He stood up next to me. “You tired of French food? Stay for dinner. My wife Nilda makes a mean arroz con pollo.”
“That would be great,” I said.
My cell phone rang.
“Excuse me,” I said. “Probably Katherine. My girlfriend.”
“She’s invited, too,” he said.
I answered the phone.
“Matthew?”
It wasn’t Katherine. It was somebody I didn’t expect.
“This is Newton. Matthew, I’m calling to tell you my employer is very impressed with your work.”
“Your employer? You mean the guy we call Copernicus?”
He laughed. “Yes. Copernicus is a big fan. Actually, he wants to hire you.”
“You’re kidding,” I said. “He wants to commission a painting?”
“No,” Newton said. “He has a job for you, though. You and your three Marine buddies, Zach Stevens, Ty Warren, and Adam Benjamin. Are you interested?”
I was standing right there on the lawn, but my legs were feeling unreal. So was the rest of me. Manny Perez had moved away to give me some privacy. He was up on the front steps, waiting for me to come in. His face was radiant. I knew he couldn’t wait to go inside and tell his wife the unbelievable news.
Newton repeated the question. “Are you interested? At least just to talk about it?”
I hesitated a few more seconds. “No,” I said. “Not today.”
ALEX CROSS GETS A PRESIDENTIAL REQUEST. “PLEASE FIND MY KIDS!”
FOR AN EXCERPT, TURN THE PAGE.
THE FIRST UNFORTUNATE incident involved President Coyle’s children, Ethan and Zoe, both high-profile targets.
Twelve-year-old Ethan Coyle thought he had gotten used to living under the microscope and in the public eye. So Ethan hardly noticed anymore the news cameramen camped outside the Branaff School gates, and he didn’t worry the way he used to if some kid he didn’t even know tried to snap his picture in the hall.
Sometimes Ethan even pretended he was invisible. It was kind of babyish, kind of b.s., but who cared. It helped. One of the more personable Secret Service guys had actually suggested it. He told Ethan that Chelsea Clinton used to do the same thing. Who knew if that was true?
But when Ethan saw Ryan Townsend headed his way that morning, he only wished he could disappear.
Ryan Townsend always had it in for him, and that wasn’t just Ethan’s paranoia talking. He had the purplish and yellowing bruises to prove it—the kind that a good hard punch can leave behind.
“Wuzzup, Coyle the Boil?” Townsend said, charging up on him in the hall with that look on his face.
Ethan knew better than to answer his tormenter and torturer. He cut toward the lockers instead—but that was his first mistake. Now there was nowhere to go, and he felt a sharp, nauseating jab to the side of his leg. He’d been kicked! Townsend barely even slowed down as he passed. He called these little incidents “drive-bys.”
The thing Ethan didn’t do was yell out, or stumble in pain. That was the deal he’d made with himself—don’t let anyone see what you’re feeling inside.
Instead, he dropped his books and knelt down to pick them back up again. It was a total wuss move, but at least he could take the weight off his leg for a second without letting the whole world know he was Ryan Townsend’s punching and kicking dummy.
Except this time, someone did see—and it wasn’t the Secret Service.
Ethan was stuffing graph paper back into his math folder when he heard a familiar voice.
“Hey, Ryan! Wuzzup with you?”
He looked up just in time to see his fourteen-year-old sister, Zoe, stepping right into Townsend’s path.
“I saw that,” she said. “You thought I wouldn’t?”
Townsend cocked his head to the side. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Why don’t you just mind your own—”
Out of nowhere, a heavy yellow textbook came up fast in both of Zoe’s hands.
She swung hard and clocked Townsend with it, right across the middle of his face. The bully’s nose spurted red and he stumbled backward. It was great!
That was as far as things progressed before Secret Service got to them. Agent Findlay held Zoe back, and Agent Musgrove wedged himself between