London Bridges - James Patterson [6]
I smiled and felt better as soon as I saw her. She always has that effect on me. She was wearing a buttery soft leather car coat, light blue T, and black jeans and looked as though she’d come straight from work. But she looked good, really good.
She’d put on lipstick—and perfume, I discovered as I took her into my arms. “Oh yes,” I said. “I missed you.”
“Then hold me, hug me, kiss me,” she said. “How was your boy? How was Alex?”
“He’s getting big, smarter, funnier. He’s pretty great. I love that little guy. I miss him already, Jamilla.”
“I know you do. I know you do, baby. Give me that hug.”
I picked Jam up off her feet and spun her around. She’s five-nine and solid, and I love holding her in my arms. I noticed a few people watching us, and most were smiling. How could they not?
Then two of the spectators, a man and a woman in dark suits, walked up to us. Now what is this?
The woman held up her badge for me to see: FBI.
Oh no. No. Don’t do this to me.
Chapter 8
I GROANED and gently set down Jamilla, as if we had been doing something wrong instead of something very right. All the good feelings inside me evaporated in a hurry. Just like that. Wham, bam! I needed a break—and this wasn’t going to be it.
“I’m Agent Jean Matthews; this is Agent John Thompson,” the woman said, gesturing to a thirty-something blond guy munching a Ghirardelli chocolate bar. “We hate to interrupt, to intrude, but we were sent out here to meet your plane. You’re Alex Cross, sir?” she said, finally thinking to check.
“I’m Alex Cross. This is Inspector Hughes from the SFPD. You can talk in front of her,” I said.
Agent Matthews shook her head. “No, sir, I’m afraid I can’t.”
Jamilla patted my arm. “It’s okay.” She walked away, leaving me with the two agents, which was the opposite of what I wanted to happen. I wanted them to walk away—far, far away.
“What’s this about?” I asked Agent Matthews. I already knew it was something bad, which was an ongoing problem with my current job. FBI Director Burns had my schedule and itinerary at all times, even when I was off duty, which effectively meant that I was never off duty.
“As I said, sir, we were told to meet you. Then to put you right on a plane to Nevada. There’s an emergency out there. A small town was bombed. Well, the town was blown off the map. The director wants you on the scene, like, an hour ago. It’s a terrible disaster.”
I was shaking my head, feeling incredible disappointment and frustration as I walked over to where Jamilla stood. I felt as if there was a hole in the center of my chest. “There’s been a bombing in Nevada. They say it’s on the news. I have to go out there,” I told her. “I’ll try to get back as soon as I can. I’m sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am.”
The look on her face said it all. “I understand,” she said. “Of course I understand. You have to go. Come back if you can.”
I tried to hug her, but Jamilla backed away, finally giving me a small, sad wave. Then she turned and left without saying another word, and I think I knew that I had just lost her, too.
Chapter 9
I WAS ON THE MOVE, but the whole scene felt more than frustrating—it was actually surreal. I flew by private jet from San Francisco to a small town in Nevada, and from there caught a ride in an FBI helicopter to what had once been Sunrise Valley.
I was trying not to think about little Alex, trying not to think about Jamilla, but so far it wasn’t working. Maybe once I got to the bomb site? Once I was there in the action, in the middle of the shit.
I could tell by the way the local agents deferred to, and fussed around, me that my reputation, or the fact that I worked out of Washington, was making them nervous and edgy. Director Burns had made it clear that I was one of the Bureau’s troubleshooters, that I was his troubleshooter. I wouldn’t carry tales back to Washington, but the agents in the field offices didn’t know that. How could they?
The helicopter ride to the bombing site took only about ten minutes. From the air, I could see emergency lights all around