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He found it quite thrilling to see the FBI technicians enter the house with
their magic black boxes. He knew all about them, the VCU, or Violent Crime
Unit.
He closely observed the somber, serious-faced agents come and go.
Then the Rosslyn police arrived en masse. Half a dozen squad cars with their
turret lights blazing. Sort of pretty.
Finally, he saw Detective Alex Cross leave the house. Cross was tall and well
built. He was in his early forties, resembled the fighter Muhammad All at his
best. Cross's face wasn't flat, though. His brown eyes sparkled constantly. He
was better-looking, actually, than Ali had ever been.
Cross was one of his prime opponents, and this was a fight to the death,
wasn't it. It was an intensive battle of wits, but even more than that, a
battle of wills.
The Mastermind was confident that he would win against Cross. If anything,
this was a mismatch. The Mastermind always won, didn't he? And yet, he felt a
little unsure. Cross exuded confidence too, and that made him angry. How dare
he? Who did the detective think he was?
He watched the house for a while longer, and knew it was perfectly safe for
him to be there.
Perfectly safe.
On a numerical scale of 9.9999 out of 10.
He had a crazy thought then, and he knew where it came from.
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--r
When he was just a boy, he absolutely loved cowboy-and-Indian movies and TV
shows. He always rooted for the Indians. And he particularly loved one
extraordinary trick that they had they would sneak into an enemy's camp and
simply touch the enemy while he slept. It was called, he believed, counting
coup. The Mastermind wanted to count coup on Alex Cross.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
As soon as we knew that everyone in the house was safe, I called St. Anthony's
Hospital to check on Jannie. Guilt, paranoia, and duty were all pulling hard
at me. The furies had me in a terrible vise. The bank manager's family was
safe. What about my own?
I was put in contact with the nurses' station on Jannie's floor. I spoke to an
RN, Julietta Newton, who sometimes stopped by Jannie's room when I came to
visit. Julietta reminded me of an old friend, a nurse who had died the year
before, Nina Childs.
"This is Alex Cross. I'm sorry to bother you, Julietta, but I'm trying to
reach my grandmother. Or my daughter, Jannie."
"Nana isn't on the floor at the moment," the nurse told me. "Jannie just went
down for an MRL A spot was available and Dr. Petito wanted her to take it.
Your grandmother accompanied her downstairs."
"I'm on my way. Is Jannie all right?"
The nurse hesitated, then she spoke. "She had another seizure, Detective.
She's stabilized, though."
I rushed back to the hospital from Rosslyn and got there in about fifteen
minutes. I hurried down to B-l and found an area marked DIAGNOSTIC TESTING. It
was late, almost ten o'clock. No one was at the front desk, so I walked right
past and down a light blue corridor that looked eerie and foreboding at that
time of night.
As I approached a room with COMPUTERIZED TOMOGRAPHY and MRI lettered on the
door, a technician appeared from a doorway across the hall. He startled me I
was walking in a fog. Thinking, worrying about Jannie.
"Can I help you? Are you supposed to be down here, sir?"
"I'm Jannie Cross's father. I'm Detective Cross. She's having an MRI. She had
a seizure tonight."
The man nodded. "She's down here. I'll show you the way. I believe she's about
halfway through the test. Our last patient for the night."
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The hospital tech showed me into the MRI room where Nana was sitting vigil.
She was trying to keep up a calm exterior, trying to maintain her usual
self-control. For once, it wasn't working. I saw the fear lighting up her
eyes, or maybe I was projecting my own feelings.
I looked over at the MRI machine and it was state-of-the-art. It was more open
and less restraining than others I'd seen. I'd had two MRIs, so I knew the
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drill. Jannie would be lying flat inside. Her head would be immobilized on
either side by' sandbags "The image of Jannie alone inside the imposing
machine was disturbing. But so was her third seizure in two days.
"Can she hear us?" I asked.
Nana cupped her hands to her ears. "She's listening to music in there. But you
can hold her hand, Alex. She knows your touch."
I reached out and took one of Jannie's hands. I squeezed gently, and she
squeezed back. She knew it was me.
"What happened while I was gone?" I asked Nana.
"We were lucky, so lucky," she said. "Dr. Petito stopped by on his rounds. He
was talking to Jannie when she had another grand mal. He ordered the MRI, and
they had an opening for her. Actually, they stayed open for her."
I sat down because I needed to. It had been a long and stressful day and it
wasn't over yet. My heart was still racing, so was my head. The rest of my
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