Triple Threat - James Patterson Page 0,20

your own home. The Soneji are everywhere!”

Then he threw his head back, and barked and brayed his laughter before the screen froze. A title appeared below: www.thesoneji.net.

“What’s that, Dad?” Ali asked, upset.

I stormed to the screen, followed the cord to its power source, and tore it violently out of the wall.

“Alex?” Bree said. “What’s going on?”

I looked at Ali. “Was that Walking Dead episode streaming from Netflix?”

“Yes.”

Yanking out my cell phone, I looked to Bree and said, “Soneji hacked into our internet feed.”

“I’ll shut the router down,” Bree said.

“No, don’t,” I said. I scrolled through my recent calls and hit Call. “I have a feeling it will be better if the link’s still active.”

The phone picked up. “Yes?”

“This is Alex Cross,” I said. “How fast can you get to my house?”

Forty minutes later, as we were finishing up Nana Mama’s roast chicken masterpiece, and fighting over who was going to get the last wing and who the last sweet potato fries, there was a sharp knock at our side door.

“I’ll get it,” I said, put my napkin down, and went out into the great room and unlocked the door that led to the side yard and the alley behind our place.

I did not turn on the light, just opened it quickly and let our visitors inside. The first was Ned Mahoney, my former partner at the FBI. The second was Special Agent Henna Batra of the Bureau’s cybercrime unit.

“Who’s making sure you’re safe in your own home?” Mahoney asked once I’d closed the door.

“Metro in unmarked cars, both ends of the block,” I said.

“Soneji’s still the type to try.”

“I know,” I said. “But I think we’re good.”

“I’m still unclear why you wanted me here, Dr. Cross,” Agent Batra said.

“I think Soneji or The Soneji may have made a mistake,” I said. “If I’m right, they left a digital trail inside my house, or on our network, anyway.”

Chapter 25

I got to GW Medical Center early the following morning with my children’s howls ringing in my head. Special Agent Batra had taken every computer and phone in the house to Quantico. She’d promised to work as fast as she could, but it was like they’d lost their right hands when the phones were taken away.

I kind of felt the same way walking to Sampson’s room, and decided to buy a cheap phone afterward. I was happy to find John sitting up and drinking through a straw.

Billie hadn’t arrived yet, so I’d gotten to sit with him awhile, and brought him up to date on all that had occurred the prior day. Though his eyes tended to drift off me, he seemed to understand much of what I was saying.

“If anyone can find this guy, it’s Batra,” I said. “I’ve never seen anyone like her before.”

John’s eyes softened and he smiled. He tried to say something and couldn’t. You could see how frustrating it was.

I put my hand on his shoulder and said, “You’re in for a long haul, buddy, recovering from this. But if there’s any man alive who can do it, you can.”

Sampson’s lazy, sad gaze came and dwelled around me for several seconds. Then he started struggling, as he got more and more upset.

“Hey,” I said. “It’s okay. We’ll—”

Garbled sounds came out of his mouth.

He tried again. And again.

The sixth time, I thought he said, “Evan-widda.”

“Evan-widda?” I said.

“Evan-widda…b…bag,” he said, and then smiled and lifted his right hand to point to the surgical bandage. “Ho-ho…n…ed.”

I frowned, but got it then, and smiled. “Even with a big hole in your head?”

Sampson smiled, dropped his hand, and winked at me before nodding off to sleep again, as if that had taken every bit of his strength.

But he’d spoken! Sort of. Definitely communicated. And the doctors had said his sense of humor could be gone with a wound to that part of his brain, but here he was making a joke about his situation.

If that wasn’t a miracle, I don’t know what is.

Billie arrived shortly before eight and beamed when I told her what had happened.

She kissed John, and said, “You spoke?”

He shook his head. “Alack vent…r…wrist…crist.”

“What?”

“He said, ‘Alex is a ventriloquist.’ I think.”

John grinned again and said, “Whips do no move.”

Billie had tears in her eyes. “Lips don’t move.”

Sampson made a wheezing sound of delight that stayed with me on the way to work and buying a burner phone.

I went to Bree’s office, and I knocked on her doorjamb.

“Long time no see,” I said.

Bree glanced at the clock, said, “Are you getting