Violets Are Blue - James Patterson [37]
So we went to the Arts and Industries Building first, and it was very good, as it always is. Inside, the dull roar of air-conditioning and the cries of a gospel album mixed nicely. We saw the black cowboys, and also a lot of exceptional photos from the Harlem Renaissance.
We stood in front of a twelve-foot photo of ambitious-looking black men in suits, ties, and top hats taken from a bird’s-eye view. A stunning shot that would be hard to forget.
“If I saw that scene on the street,” Jannie said, “I would definitely take the picture.”
After Arts and Industries we appeased Jannie and went to the Einstein Planetarium, where we watched “And a Star to Steer Her By” for the fourth or fifth time, or maybe the sixth or seventh time, but who’s counting? Nana took little Alex home for his nap then, and we trekked around the rest of the Air and Space Museum. This was the portion of our journey that Jannie called “Damon’s macho planes-and-trains trip.”
But even Jannie enjoyed Air and Space. The Wright brothers’ plane floated high above us, suspended by long wires, and it was magnificent. Light spruce beams and stretched white sheets of canvas. To its right, the Breitling Orbiter 3, another important page from aeronautic history — the first nonstop balloon flight around the world. And then — “One small step for man” — the thirteen-thousand-pound Apollo 11 command module. You can be cynical about all this — or go with it. I choose to go with it. Makes life a lot easier and more rewarding.
After we had studied several of the aeronautic miracles, Damon insisted we catch Mission to Mir on the IMAX screen at the Langley Theater.
“I’m going to outer space one day,” he announced.
“I have news,” Jannie said. “You’re already there.”
In honor of Nana, we stopped at the Museum of African Art, and the kids got a kick out of the masks and ceremonial clothes, but especially the old currency exhibit — cowrie shells, bracelets, and rings. It was incredibly quiet inside, spacious, colorful, cool as could be. The last stop of the day was to see the Dinosaur Hall at the Museum of Natural History. But then both Jannie and Damon said we had to see the tarantula feeding at the Orkin Insect Zoo. There was a sign we read on walls painted to resemble a rain forest: “Insects won’t inherit the earth — they own it now.”
“You’re in luck,” Jannie teased her brother. “Your kind rules.”
Finally, at around six, we crossed Madison Drive to the Mall. The kids were quiet, tired, and hungry by then — and so was I. We ate a picnic supper under spreading shade trees at the foot of the Capitol.
It was the best day I’d had in weeks.
No calls from anybody.
Chapter 38
AS HE had done so many times before, probably a dozen times by now, the Mastermind watched Alex Cross and his family.
Love equals hate, he thought. What an incredible equation, but so true, absolutely true. It made the world go round, and that was a lesson Alex Cross needed to learn. Christ, he was such a fucking optimist. It was infuriating.
If anyone had cared enough to study his past carefully they would have discovered the keys to everything that had happened so far. His personal crime and murder spree was one of the most daring in history. It had lasted for over twenty-eight years. He could count the mistakes he’d made on one hand. The keys were right there for anybody to see:
Narcissistic personality disorder.
That’s where it all began. That’s where it would end.
A grandiose sense of self-importance.
That was him, all right.
Expects to be recognized as superior without commensurate achievements.
Preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, or ideal love.
Interpersonally exploitive.
Yes, indeed. He lived for it.
Lacks empathy.
To put it mildly.
But please note, Dr. Cross and others who might wish to study the long and winding trail — this is a personality disorder. There is no psychosis involved. I am an organized, even obsessive, thinker. I can work out elaborate plots that serve my need to compete, criticize, and control. The three C’s.