Alex Cross, Run

“I don’t ask for much,” Josh said. That was debatable, but whatever. He was putting on the puppy dog’s eyes now. Obviously, he’d already settled on what he needed Creem’s answer to be.

“Please don’t say no. They’re meeting us upstairs. I gave them a wad of cash, and they booked the room themselves. All very high-end.” Josh leaned a little closer and lowered his voice again. “I even had them pick up a rubber mattress cover for the session. They probably think I’m totally kinky, but that’s okay. The point is—it’s all taken care of, Elijah. Every last detail.”

Creem let him hang for another few seconds, but then shrugged nonchalantly. “What am I going to say?” he asked.

Josh fairly beamed, and sat back with his glass in his hand. “You won’t be sorry,” he said.

“Of course, I do have to ask—”

“Actually, you don’t. This is me, remember? She’s absolutely perfect,” Josh told him. “So is he, if you care.”

Creem nodded, and sniffed his wine. The bouquet in the glass was almost enough to get drunk on. He’d go slow. He wanted to stay sharp, no pun intended.

“What time?” he said.

“Ten o’clock.”

It was nine thirty now. “We’ll have to skip dessert,” he said.

Bergman signaled to the waiter from across the room. He playfully twirled the wine in his glass with his finger, then licked it clean and downed the rest before he threw a white napkin over the half-finished meal in front of him.

“Hardly,” he said.

CHAPTER

76

UPSTAIRS IN THE SUITE, JOSH INTRODUCED ELIJAH TO THE ATTRACTIVE YOUNG couple waiting for them.

“This is Richie. And this,” he said, with a barely contained laugh, “is Miranda.”

Creem looked twice at the girl. “Is that your real name?” he asked, but she only stared awkwardly over at Josh. “Never mind,” he said. She was more of a Chloe than a Miranda, but he appreciated the sick little gesture, anyway. Josh was trying to make this special for him, and in any case, she was tall, lithe, blond, and yes, perfect.

It looked like Richie and “Miranda” had started in without them. A bottle of tequila was open on the bedside table, and even though there were no loose tabs in sight, the ready-to-ball looks on their faces told Creem they were all X’d up and good to go.

He poured himself a small shot of the tequila and settled into a comfortable chair by the bed. A stolen knife from the steakhouse downstairs was in the breast pocket of his blazer. To his own surprise, he was starting to feel quite into this. Maybe Josh knew him even better than he realized.

“So, Miranda,” Creem said. “Tell me what turns you on.”

With a little prodding, the prelubricated couple-for-hire got right into the swing of things. They sat perched on the edge of the king-size bed while Creem and Bergman directed them, and watched.

Soon, the boy was ru

“Not too fast,” Josh told her. “Just unsnap his pants, and then leave them like that for a while.”

There was no need for cross talk. They’d been here before. Josh told the girl what to do to the boy, and Creem told the boy what to do to the girl.

“Put your finger in her. That’s it. Very nice.”

After a while, Creem started to wish they’d brought a camera. The little beauty didn’t seem to have a single hair below her neck. He recorded it with his eyes instead, watching from the side while Bergman sat on the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed.

Over the course of several minutes, the two were undressed, and then eventually going at it, flagrante delicto. The girl reached up, pressing her hands against the headboard with her back arched and her eyes closed, while the boy did his thing.

When Creem had seen enough, he gave Josh a nod, to let him know he was ready.

Josh held up a finger. He wanted to see the boy finish. But he did take a pistol out of the briefcase he’d carried in, and laid it flat on his own bulging lap. The two little bu

It wasn’t such a bad way to go, actually.

Slowly, Josh got onto his feet. The thousand-volt look in his eyes was unmistakable. It was his killing face. Creem had only seen it once before—twenty-five years ago, in Fort Lauderdale. That was the last time they’d killed together.

“That’s it, kids,” Josh told them. “Exactly like that. Don’t stop now. Please, whatever you do, don’t stop.”

The boy probably couldn’t have if he wanted to. He thrust a few more times and then ground furiously into the girl, as she squealed underneath him. He squeezed his eyes shut, and threw his head back.

That’s when Josh went for it.

With a muffled pop, he fired one bullet straight into the crown of the boy’s head. It sent him collapsing back onto the girl, like a naked rag doll, already dead. She didn’t even seem to notice what had happened at first.

By the time she did, Creem’s knife was out and it was far too late for her to do anything about it.

CHAPTER

77

IT WAS COMING UP ON THREE IN THE MORNING WHEN CREEM AND BERGMAN decided to call it a night. They sat parked in the deserted lot next to Fletcher’s Cove, looking out toward the river.

Both Richie and “Miranda” were on their way downstream by now. The bottle of tequila sat mostly empty on the car seat. Josh had even smoked a cigar with Elijah, though he’d clearly just pretended to enjoy it. Still posing, after all these years.

“There’s something you should know,” Creem told him. “I didn’t want to say anything before, and it’s not as bad as it sounds, but a detective came to see me today.”

Josh kept his cool, which surprised Creem a little. “A detective?”

“Cross. One of the ones who arrested us that night. He came to tell me my place in Palm Beach had been burgled. The neighbors are dead, too. Imagine that.”

“Why him?” Josh said.

“I have no idea, but it was all about the robbery. I’m not too concerned.”

“Whatever you say, Elijah.”

Creem was relieved to hear Josh speaking like this. Of course, he was also half-drunk, and still riding the high of the evening. He lolled back against the headrest and closed his eyes as the silence stretched on in the car.

“What would you do if the police were onto us?” Creem said finally. “If you knew they were coming after you?”

Bergman shrugged. “Whatever I had to.”

“Would you run?”

“If I could, sure. I hear Vietnam is nice. Cute boys, good food. Or Argentina.”

“And what if you couldn’t get away? What then?” Creem asked. “There’s still the trial to consider.”

“Believe me, I’ve considered it,” Bergman said. “And in the words of my alcoholic mother”—he stopped and put on a shaky, Katharine Hepburn voice—“always leave the party before the party’s over, darling.”

He raised his head then and looked across at Creem with a sudden seriousness.

“I meant it about not going to jail, Elijah. I’m sorry, but I don’t need to turn fifty that badly. Nobody does.”

Bergman’s ready answers seemed to explain a few things. Maybe that was the upside of Josh’s paranoid streak—always considering the exit plan, one way or another.

“You said something the other day,” Creem reminded him. “Something about how we’ll finish this together, when the time comes. Is that what you were talking about?”

Bergman picked up the bottle between them and took a swig. “You ever see Thelma and Louise?” he asked.

“No.”

“Well, never mind,” he said. “But to answer your question—yes. That’s what I was talking about. I love you, Elijah. You can make fun all you like, but I do. Without you…without all of this…I really don’t have anything worth sticking around for. Not anymore.”