“Mike Doud is missing. He didn’t come in to work this morning. We called his wife, but she said he left at the usual time.”
“What is the Bureau doing about it?” I asked.
“We don’t think he was in an automobile accident. It’s too soon to put out an APB. Except this isn’t like Doud. He’s a really straight guy, family man, totally dependable. First Walsh,” she said. “Now this. What the hell is going on Alex? It’s him, isn’t it?”
Chapter 102
WAS HE HUNTING US? First Agent James Walsh dead, now Doud missing. There was no way to tell if the events were connected, but we had to assume they were. It’s him, isn’t it?
I had set up time to interview Dr. Cioffi at the hospital’s administration building, so I kept the appointment. I’d done some background work on Cioffi and a few of the other psychiatrists at Hazelwood. Cioffi was an army veteran himself; he’d done two tours in Vietnam, then he’d worked in seven veterans hospitals before this one. Could he be the Mastermind? He certainly had the background in abnormal psychology. But then again, so did I.
When I was shown into his office, Dr. Cioffi was writing at a pinewood partner’s table. His back was to the window. He sat in a cane-and-wood chair covered with a yellow striped fabric that matched the drapes.
I couldn’t see him very well, but I knew he could see me. Oh, the games we play — even we doctors of the mind.
Eventually, he looked up, pretending to be surprised that I was there. “Detective Cross, I’m sorry. I guess the time got away from me.”
He shot his cuffs, then rose from his chair and indicated a general sitting area against the far wall. “Dr. Marcuse and I were talking about you the other night. We realized we were pretty tough the day that you and the other detective arrived. I guess we found the idea of the police wandering around the wards a little troubling. Anyway, I’ve heard rumors that you’re an excellent mental health counselor.”
I refused to rise to the bait. He was a doctor; I was a mental health counselor I told Cioffi about the list of suspects I had compiled. He took the list from me. Quickly looked over the names.
“I know all of these patients, of course. I’m sure that some are angry enough to be violent. Anderson and Hale have actually committed murders in the past. It’s still hard to imagine any of these men organizing a series of daring robberies. And then, of course, why would they still be here if they had all that money?” He laughed. “I certainly wouldn’t be.” Is that so, Dr Cioffi? I had to wonder.
Next, I spent nearly an hour with Dr. Marcuse, who had a smaller office right next to Cioffi’s. I enjoyed his company, and the time flew by. Marcuse was energetic, bright, and trying to be cooperative with the investigation. Or so he made it seem.
“How did you wind up here at Hazelwood?” I eventually asked him.
“Good question, complicated answer. My father was an army pilot. Lost both his legs in the Second World War. I spent time around veterans hospitals from the time I was seven. Hated them with a passion, and with good reason. I guess I wanted to make them better places than what my father knew.”
“You succeeding?” I asked.
“I’ve been here less than eight months. I took over for Dr. Francis, who transferred to another vets hospital in Florida. The money just isn’t available for these places. It’s a national disgrace, and nobody seems to care. Sixty Minutes and Dateline should do stories every week on veterans hospitals — until somebody does something about them. Alex, I don’t know what to tell you about your killer.”
“You don’t believe he’s here, do you?” I asked.
Marcuse shook his head. “If he is, he really is a mastermind. If he’s here, he’s got everybody fooled.”
Chapter 103
I SEE YOU, DR. CROSS. I see you, but you don’t have a clue who I am. I could walk up and touch you.
I’m a lot smarter than you — and also a lot smarter than you think I am. It’s a simple fact. It’s also verifiable. There have been batteries of intelligence tests. Lots and lots of the finest psychological tests. Have you seen my test scores? Were you impressed?
I was sitting exactly one chair away from you in the recreation room the other morning. I studied your face. My eyes rolled over your well-exercised body. I was thinking that maybe I was wrong — and that you weren’t really Alex Cross. We were so close I could have jumped up and grabbed you by the throat. Would that have surprised you?
I’ll admit, your being here certainly surprised me. I’ve seen your picture — you’re well known — and then there you were. You made all of my paranoid dreams and fantasies come true.
Why are you here, Dr. Cross? Why, exactly? How the hell could you have found me? Are you that good?
That’s the question I ask myself over and over, the litany playing inside my head.
Why is Alex Cross here? How good is he?
I’m going to work on a surprise for you now. I’m making a special plan in your honor.
I’m watching you walk away up the hallway, careful not to jangle your keys, and as I’m watching, I’m making a new plan.
You’re part of it now.
Be extremely careful, Dr. Cross.
You’re much more vulnerable than you think. You have no idea.
You know what? I am going to walk up and touch you.
Gotcha.
Chapter 104
“THE HOSPITAL seems like a dead end, Betsey. I’ve looked at everybody — doctors, nurses, patients. I don’t know that Sampson or I should go back to Hazelwood after this week. Maybe we got suckered in there by Brian Macdougall. Maybe the Mastermind is playing with us. Do we know anything more about Walsh or Doud?”
She shook her head. I could see the hurt and disappointment in her eyes. “Doud is still missing. There’s nothing. He’s disappeared.”
I was sitting in her office and we had our feet propped up on her desk. We were drinking iced tea from bottles. Hanging out, commiserating. Betsey could be a good listener when she wanted, or needed, to be.
“Tell me what you know so far,” she said. “Just let me hear it. I want it to roll over my brain.”
“We haven’t been able to find anything to connect any patient or any staff member at the hospital to MetroHartford or the previous bank robberies. No patient seems capable of the crimes. Even the doctors there aren’t terribly impressive. Maybe Marcuse is — but I think he’s a good guy. A half dozen of your agents have picked apart everything at Hazelwood. Nothing, Betsey. I’ll look over the files again this weekend.”
“But you think we’ve lost him?”
“It’s the same old thing — no suspects. The Mastermind seems to disappear off the face of the earth when he wants to.”
She rubbed her eyes with her fists, then she looked at me again. “The Justice Department is heavily invested in Brian Macdougall’s story. They have to keep looking at Hazelwood. Then they’ll check every other veterans hospital in the country. That means I’ll have to keep looking. But you think Macdougall and his thugs were wrong?”
“Maybe wrong, maybe tricked. Or maybe Macdougall made up the whole story. Macdougall will probably get what he wanted out of this — Camp Fed. As I said, I’ll look over the files again. I’m not giving up.”
Betsey continued to look out over the cityscape. “So you’re planning to work all weekend? That’s a shame. You look like you need a break,” she said.
I sipped my tea and watched her. “You have something in mind?”
She laughed, and the look on her face was irresistibly coy. She whistled into the neck of her iced-tea bottle. “I think it’s time, Alex. We both need some good old-fashioned F-U-N. What do you say I pick you up — around noon on Saturday?”
I shook my head some, but I was laughing.
“Does that mean yes?” she asked.
“It means yes. I think I need a little old-fashioned F-U-N. I’m sure I do.”
Chapter 105
I ALMOST COULDN’T WAIT for Saturday afternoon to c
ome. I kept busy with the kids — grocery shopping, a stop at the new petting zoo in Southeast. I kept the Mastermind out of my thoughts. Also Agents Walsh and Doud, Hazelwood Veterans Hospital, murder and mayhem.
Betsey finally picked me up at exactly twelve in her blue Saab. The car was washed, maybe even polished with Turtle Wax, and it looked shiny and new, and the day seemed full of promise.
I knew that Jannie was watching from her bedroom window so I turned, made a funny face, and waved. Jannie waved back, and smiled from ear to ear. She and Rosie the Cat were up there; both of them tuned in to my ongoing soap opera.
I leaned down into the side window of Betsey’s Saab. She was wearing a light leather jacket over a white silk blouse. She could really look great when she wanted to, and I guess she wanted to today.
“You’re always right on time. Precise. Just like the Mastermind,” I kidded her.
“Masterprick,” she corrected. “Wouldn’t that be a great ending to this, Alex? I’m him! You catch me because I’ve made one fatal mistake. It’s that I’ve become infatuated with you.”
“You’re infatuated?” I asked as I slid into the front seat. “Senior Agent Cavalierre?”
She laughed, and showed a beautiful smile. She was pulling out all the stops. “Giving up my prized weekend, aren’t I?”
“So where are we going?” I asked.
“You’ll see soon enough. I have a master plan.”
“I’m not surprised.”
Ten minutes later, she turned the Saab into the circular entrance to the Four Seasons Hotel on Pennsylvania Avenue. Overhanging flags gently rustled in the wind. The courtyard had a lot of brick covered with Boston ivy. Very pretty.
“Is this okay?” She turned and looked at me. Her eyes were a little nervous, a little unsure.
“I think it is,” I said. “Convenient, too. Perfect planning.”
“Why waste quality time on the road?” Betsey said, and smiled irresistibly. She was pretty outrageous for an FBI agent, especially a smart one with lofty ambitions. I liked her style a lot: She went for what she wanted. I wondered if she usually got it.
She had preregistered, and we were taken directly to a room on the hotel’s top floor. I walked behind her all the way; I watched her walk.
“You folks need any help from me?” the youthful but officious hotel bellman asked once we were inside the suite.
I handed him a tip. “Thanks for showing us to the room. If you would just shut the door on your way out. Gently.”
He nodded. “The room service here is great, by the way. The best in D.C.”
“Thank you. The door,” Betsey said, and waved and smiled. “Softly. Bye-bye.”
Chapter 106
BETSEY WAS ALREADY SLIPPING off her leather jacket. Then she was in my arms by the time the door clicked shut. We were kissing and moving against each other, and it seemed like a slow, graceful, irresistible dance to me. We were both infatuated, and that’s not so bad, I was thinking. Good old-fashioned fun. Isn’t that what she had promised?
Betsey felt electric but also very comfortable in my arms. She was a study in contrasts. She was small and light, but also athletic and strong; she was very smart and serious but she was funny, ironic, irreverent. Oh yeah, and she was sexy as hell.
We moved toward the bed and let ourselves fall onto it. I don’t know who was leading or who was following. It didn’t make any difference. I buried my face in her silk blouse.
I looked into her brown eyes. “You were pretty sure of yourself. Preregistering and all.”
“It was time,” she said, nothing more.
I took off her soft, creamy white blouse and short black skirt a piece at a time. I gently stroked her silky-smooth face; then her arms, legs, the bottoms of her feet. It must have taken us half an hour to get undressed.
“You have the most wonderful touch,” she whispered. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
“I won’t. I like touching, too. Don’t you stop.”
“Oh, God, this is so good! Alex!” she screeched, completely out of character.
I kissed her where I’d touched her with my fingers. She was so warm to the touch. She wore a wonderful perfume, which she told me was Alfred Sung’s Forever. I kissed her lips, not forever but for a long, long time.
We danced some more, held each other, kissed a lot, stroked each other’s bodies. We had all the time in the world. God, I had missed being with someone like this.
“Now. Please?” one of us whispered finally.
It was definitely time.
I entered Betsey slowly, very slowly. I kept going as far as I could inside her. I was on top, but I held my weight on my forearms. We were moving together, and it seemed so effortless and right. She started to hum, no particular song, just sweetness that made me vibrate like a tuning fork.
“I like being with you,” I said. “A lot. Even more than I expected.”
“Oh, me too. I told you this would be better than chasing after the Mastermind.”
“This is so much better.”
“Now! Please?”
Chapter 107
BETSEY AND I FELL ASLEEP in each other’s arms at some point later that afternoon.
I woke up first and saw it was almost six already. It didn’t matter what time it was. Not even what day. I called home, checked in on everybody. They were happy I was out — and having F-U-N for a change.
I was. I watched Betsey sleep naked, and I would have been content to do that for a long time. I thought about drawing a warm bath for the two of us. Should I? Yes, I should. Why not?
In the bathroom, I spotted a jar of bright blue bubble-bath beads near her things. She was way ahead of me, wasn’t she? I wondered if I liked that, and decided that I did.
The tub was filling up slowly when I heard her speak behind me. “Oh, good, I’ve wanted to have a bubble bath with you.”
I looked around at her — she was still naked.
“You thought about this before, huh?”
“Oh, yes. And often. What do you think I’m doing during those endless briefing sessions?”
A few moments later, we were stepping into the tub together. It felt incredibly good: the antidote to the hard work, the tension, the frustration we’d been experiencing over the past month.
“I like being with you so much,” Betsey whispered as she stared into my eyes. “I don’t want to leave this tub, or you. This is heaven.”
“They have excellent room service. The best in D.C.,” I reminded her. “They’ll probably come right to tubside, if we ask nicely.”
“Let’s find out,” Betsey said.
Chapter 108
IT WENT LIKE THAT, dreamily, wonderfully, perfectly, through the rest of Saturday and into Sunday morning. The only problem — the time went too fast.
The more I was around Betsey and the more we talked, the more I liked her; and I had liked her before we went to the Four Seasons. What wasn’t there to like? Only once on Saturday did we talk briefly about the Mastermind case. Betsey asked if I thought we were in any danger. She wondered if he might be stalking us. Neither of us had an answer for that one, but we had both brought our guns.
Around ten Sunday morning, we had breakfast served to us at the pool. We sat on chaise lounges cushioned with fluffy blue and white towels. We read the Washington Post and the New York Times. We got an occasional curious look, but the Four Seasons is a sophisticated hotel chain and the people who stay here, especially at the hotel in Washington, have seen it all — and much, much more. Besides, I’m sure Betsey and I looked content and happy together.
I should have seen it coming. I don’t know why, but suddenly I was thinking about the person behind the robberies, murders, and kidnappings: the Mastermind. I tried to will the thought away. It wouldn’t go. The Dragonslayer was back; the job was back.
I looked at Betsey. Her eyes were shut, and she seemed perfectly relaxed. That morning she’d done her nails a bright shade of red. She’d done her lips the
same color. She didn’t look like an FBI agent anymore. She was sexy and beautiful, and I was loving our time together.
I hated to bother her. She had earned some time off, and she was lying so peacefully on her chaise lounge.
“Betsey?”
Her lips formed a smile. She kept her eyes shut tight. She wriggled her body slightly to get a better position on the chaise lounge.
“Yes. I’d love to go back to the room with you. I’d even give up this toasty feeling on my neck and back for it. We can leave our towels on the chairs. Maybe they’ll still be here when we get back.”
I smiled, then I lightly massaged her back. “I hate to do this, Betsey. Can we talk about the case? About him?”
She opened her eyes. They had become narrowed and focused. Just like that, Betsey was all business. I was amazed at the transformation. If anything, she was worse than I was. “What about him?” she asked. “What are you thinking?”
I moved over to the edge of her chair. “We’ve spent the last two weeks digging around MetroHartford. Then questioning Macdougall. During all that time, we’ve ignored the banks he hit earlier. Betsey, I want to look through all the old files again. Even the personnel files.”
She was a little puzzled. “Okay. I guess. Sure. You’ve lost me, though. What are you thinking, Alex? What would we be looking for?”
“Four employees were killed at the First Union Bank. There was no rhyme or reason for it. We always assumed he was making an example of them. Why four? It doesn’t track for me.”
She shut her eyes again. I could see the wheels turning — fast; I could almost hear the gears shift. “He wanted revenge against that particular bank, and he wanted his money.”
“Sounds like him, doesn’t it? He’s thorough and efficient. Doesn’t miss a trick. He’d want it all.”
Betsey opened her eyes again. She stared at me. Pursed her shiny red lips. “There’s just one thing, though. It’s important.”
I lightly kissed her lips. “What’s that?” I asked.