Page 89 of Cross Down
“That’s right,” Ned says. “But whoever is providing those funds is doing it from various sites on the dark web that use cryptocurrency. We try to trace those sites, but they pop up for a day or two, then disappear.”
They’re both quiet for a moment.
“So that’s it, then,” she says.
“I’m afraid it is.”
She seems to steel herself. “I’ve heard rumors that you have intelligence indicating that one final, spectacular attack is going to happen soon. Do you know when?”
The answer to that question is one of the mostclosely guarded secrets in government, but Ned doesn’t hesitate.
“Tomorrow,” he says. “Or maybe the day after. No later than that.”
She nods crisply. “All right. Any idea what’s coming our way?”
“Something big,” Ned says. “Perhaps bioterrorism, a gas attack, maybe a dirty bomb or something bigger. But it’s coming.”
The mayor lowers her head for a moment, composing herself, and when she looks up, Ned says, “Just so you know, there’s been an unofficial evacuation of key people from the government and Congress. Nothing public, but there’s been a steady outflow of people either visiting their home states or taking a couple of sick days.”
“Why are you telling me this?” she asks, voice hard as stone.
“Because you could do the same, Madam Mayor. No shame in it.”
Her next words are almost spat out. “The hell there isn’t. I’m not running away, not for one damn second. Nobody’s running me out of my city. Are you leaving?”
“No,” Ned says. “My work is here.”
“Good,” she says, gathering up her coat and purse. “Same for me. And if you need anything, anything at all from me or in DC, call me and you’ve got it. No questions asked.”
“Thank you, Madam Mayor.”
A slight smile. “You’re welcome, Ned. You take care of yourself, okay?”
She heads to the door and Ned says, “You too, Winny.”
Chapter
100
Valerie Penny livesin a lovely retirement community in Silver Spring, Maryland, just off Route 29 but not so close that she hears traffic at night. She’s a retired Department of Labor accountant, and thanks to her late husband’s careful investments, she lives a very comfortable life on Sunset Shore Drive.
The other day, Valerie saw two dark blue SUVs roll up to the Balantics’ house. She doesn’t know much about the Balantics except that they both served in the navy—Ugh, imagine having to wear a uniform every day—and after working for defense contractors, they retired here.
The Balantics’ visitors were a large Black family: An older woman, a woman in her forties or thereabouts, and four children, ranging in age from maybe first grade to their late teens. Not a problem, of course, but still…having all these kids abruptly arrive in her quiet neighborhood was certain to stir up concern among the older residents.
For the better part of a day, she watches the large family through a pair of binoculars she uses for field trips with the local Audubon Society chapter, and when she recognizes the younger woman’s face—not the one who looked like she was seventy or something—she is startled.
The next day, while volunteering at a Silver Spring food bank, putting boxes of instant macaroni and cheese up on a crowded shelf, she says to her friend Becky Zimmer, “You won’t believe who’s living next door to me.”
“Who?” Becky asks.
“Bree Stone,” Valerie says. “Remember her? A few years back, she was a big deal with the police department in the District, then there was some sort of scandal and she left. She’s married to Alex Cross.”
“Oh, yes,” Becky says, putting up cans of Dinty Moore beef stew. “That investigator and psychologist, the one who wrote those books. Wasn’t he almost killed the other day, got shot?”
Valerie says, “Yes, I know, how horrible. Too many guns and nuts in this country, if you ask me. Anyway, she’s moved in with the Balantics, and it looks like she’s brought her entire family with her, from the grandma to the littlest. Six in total.”
“Six!”
