Unfortunately, what he was telling me made sense. I was afraid that might be what had happened. A trap, a test. It was the Wolf's pattern so far.

"How did Shafer get out of here without our seeing him leave?" I asked.

"The basement in the building connects to a building to the south. Colonel Shafer knew that. He seemed to know a lot about us."

It was nine in the morning by the time I left the building. I felt exhausted, as though I could lie down and sleep in an alleyway. The suspects would be transported soon, and the whole area was still shut down, even the Holland Tunnel because of our fear that it might be a primary target, that it might suddenly be blown up.

Had everything been a test, a trap?

Chapter 52

The day's weirdness wasn't over.

A crowd had gathered outside the building, and as I pushed a way out toward my ride, someone called to me. "Dr. Cross!"

Dr. Cross? Who was calling me?

A kid in a tan and crimson windbreaker waved so that I'd see him.

"Dr. Cross, over here! Dr. Alex Cross! I need to talk to you, man."

I walked over to the young man, who was probably in his late teens. I stopped and leaned in close to him. "How do you know my name?" I asked.

He shook his head and backed up a step. "You were warned, man," he said. "You were warned by the Wolf!"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth I was all over him, grabbing at his hair, his jacket. I took him down on the ground in a headlock. I fell on top of him with all my weight.

Red-faced, his lean body torquing powerfully, he started screaming at me. " Hey! hey! I was paid to give you a message. Get the fuck off me. Guy gave me a hundred bucks. I'm just a messenger, man. English guy told me you were Dr. Alex Cross."

The youth, the messenger, looked into my eyes. "You don't seem like no doctor to me."

Chapter 53

The Wolf was in New York. He couldn't miss the big deadline, not for all the money in the world. This was going to be too good, too delicious not to savor.

The negotiations were really heating up now. The U.S. president, the British prime minister, the German chancellor—of course, none of them wanted to make a deal, to be exposed for the incredible weaklings they were. One couldn't deal with terrorists, could one? What kind of precedent would it set? They needed even more pressure, more stress, more convincing before they collapsed.

Hell, he could do that. He would be only too happy to oblige, to torture these fools. The whole thing was so predictable—to him, anyway.

He went for a long walk on the East Side of Manhattan. A constitutional. He was feeling at the top of his game. How could the governments of the world compete with him? He had every advantage. No politics, no media pundits, bureaucracies, laws or ethics to get in his way. Who could beat that?