“I mean everywhere,” Kyle said. “The crooked congressman. The greedy son of a bitch CEO who just can’t get by on that first ten million. Hell, embedded terror cells. What’s the difference? They’re all out there, right under our noses, living next door. It’s as if the world used to be black and white, and now it’s all just gray, if you squint a little.”

Alex was staring now. Right into his eyes. Was he finally tuning in?

“Max, are you talking about Steven Hennessey here? Or yourself?”

“Huh-oh,” Kyle-Max answered, and shook a finger at him. “I didn’t even see you switch hats. Very slick, Dr. Cross.”

And Alex just laughed. It was amazing, really. Kyle had managed to make Cross hate Max Siegel, and now, with the turn of a few screws, Kyle was well on his way to making Alex into a true-blue fan of the smart but obnoxious agent.

Who knows — Siegel might have gotten all the way to an invitation for family dinner or some such thing, at the rate this was going. But then something happened that even Kyle hadn’t expected.

A bullet came through the windshield.

Chapter 104

SIEGEL AND I were both out on the pavement and behind our doors at the same time. I heard another shot hit the grille, and then a sickening thud as one hit Siegel’s side of the car.

“Max?”

“I’m okay. Not hit.”

“Where’s it coming from?”

My Glock was out, but I didn’t even know where to point it. My other hand was dialing 911 while my eyes scanned the buildings around me.

“One of those two,” Max said, pointing at the Midlands and the place just north of it.

I looked up at Hennessey’s apartment again — still dark, with the windows closed. Rooftops were his thing anyway. Wasn’t that true?

“Hello? Are you there?” said someone on my phone. “This is Nine-One-One Emergency. Can you hear me?”

“This is Detective Cross, MPD. We have an active shooter at Twelve Twenty-one Twelfth Street Northwest. I need immediate assistance, all available units!”

Another shot exploded a planter and a second-floor window directly behind me, one after the other. I heard a scream come from inside an apartment.

“Police!” I shouted for anyone who could hear. “Stay down!” At least half a dozen people were still out on the sidewalk, scrambling for cover, and there was no way to keep more from coming along the walkway on the road.

“We’ve got to do something. We can’t just stay here. Someone’s going to get shot,” said Max.

I looked at him across the driver’s seat. “If he’s using a scope, and we move fast, he might not be able to keep up.”

“Not with both of us anyway,” he said grimly. “Take the Midlands. I’ll get the next one up.”