Page 12 of Cross Down
I look at the self-important DC residents strolling by—Smithsonian museums don’t open until ten, so tourists aren’t out in full force yet—and wait for Alex to show up. Last night we agreed to meet outside of headquarters at eight thirty so we could make it to the next task force meeting by nine. This one is being held in a secret subbasement of the original Smithsonian building, so we won’t have far to travel.
At eight thirty, I see my old friend coming up the sidewalk holding two Starbucks coffee containers. I smile as I get out of my Grand Cherokee and stretch my long legs.
Alex hands over one of the coffee cups and says, “Get Willow to school okay?”
“Just fine,” I say. “Today I walked her right into the building. They’ve doubled the security personnel, which is good. I also saw a National Guard Humvee patrol drive by.”
Alex leads me to the crosswalk opposite the entrance, adjacent to a row of Jersey barriers, and says, “News this morning said a few local National Guard units were being deployed as part of a training drill.”
I stand next to him, waiting for the traffic to ease up. There are the usual cars, trucks, and other vehicles coming our way, and among them I spot the familiar dark blue of an Amazon delivery van. There’s a stop sign on each side of the crosswalk, but several of the drivers barrel past.
I say, “As long as the attackers are out there, I don’t care if the news says National Guard members are delivering flowers to nursing homes.”
Alex smiles at that and says, “Hey, it’s clear. Let’s hustle across. I got something to tell you.”
Chapter
12
In the Amazonvan, Pope says into the Motorola microphone pinned to his shirt collar, “Target in sight, guys.”
“Copy,” Leon says.
“Copy,” Clyde says.
Pope eases up on the accelerator and says, “He’s on a crosswalk, heading to police headquarters. I’ll pull a U-turn right on the crosswalk and hit the brakes and the horn. That’s your signal.”
Both men say, “Copy,” and Pope grips the steering wheel tighter, looks at the tall Black man holding a Starbucks coffee container, whispers, “Nothing personal, pal,” and makes a sudden U-turn.
There’s a few horn blasts and he gets to the widely spaced crosswalk, hits the brakes, and taps his own horn.
From behind him, he hears the rattle of the sliding door opening up, then the first sweet sounds of gunfire from Leon’s and Clyde’s MP5s.
Chapter
13
When we getto the other side of Indiana Avenue, I say, “What’s going on, Alex?”
He stops and looks at me, smiling and with his eyes alight, and I know my very intelligent friend has come up with something.
Alex says, “Remember what I said yesterday, about the patterns in the terrorist attacks?”
“Of course. Did you figure something out?”
A quick, satisfied nod. “I did. Spent half the night in my office examining and reexamining the evidence, and Bree got angry at me for not coming to bed at a reasonable hour after she got home. But what I found out…John, the task force is looking at this the wrong way. The patterns are too random, like they’ve been carefully planned to look random and unconnected, which is why I’m going to tell the president and Grissom that we need to—”
There’s a blare of horns and I turn my head, see the Amazon van slow down and make a U-turn in front of us on the crosswalk—What the hell is that driver doing,I think,hanging an illegal U-turn in front of police headquarters?—then brake to a halt. The side door quickly slides open—Damn, I know they have to hustle to make deliveries on time, but this is ridiculous—and something black and familiar emerges from the van.
“Gun!” I yell, dropping my coffee cup. With one hand, I reach for my police-issue Glock, and with the other, I grab Alex’s shoulder and push him to the ground just as the first stammer of automatic rifle fire roars out.
Chapter
14
Leon is thefirst to get out of the van and put his booted feet on the pavement, and Clyde is right behind him, and they both open up, and Leon thinks this will be a straight and easy drive-by, but damn it all to hell, the target ducks, and now return gunfire is coming back at them.
He fires off another burst, but damn it again, the target is behind a Jersey barrier and out of sight, and Leon knows better than to leave this job undone. People are running, screaming, falling to the ground, but Clyde’s own fire keeps him focused.
