Triple Threat - James Patterson Page 0,3

the space. Traffic accidents all over the city with this storm.”

I nodded, turned, and wandered away, wondering where to go, what to do.

I went out in the ER waiting area and saw twenty people in the seats. They stared at my pistol, at the blood on my shirt, and at the black hole where Soneji’s bullet had hit me. I didn’t care what they thought. I didn’t—

I heard the automatic doors whoosh open behind me.

A fearful voice cried out, “Alex?”

I swung around. Billie Sampson was standing there in pink hospital scrub pants and a down coat, shaking from head to toe from the cold and the threat of something far more bitter. “How bad is it?”

Billie’s a surgical nurse, so there was no point in being vague. I described the wound. Her hand flew to her mouth at first, but then she shook her head. “It’s bad. He’s lucky to be alive.”

I hugged her and said, “He’s a strong man. But he’s going to need your prayers. He’s going to need all our prayers.”

Billie’s strength gave way. She began to moan and sob into my chest, and I held her tighter. When I raised my head, the people in the waiting room were looking on in concern.

“Let’s get out of here,” I muttered, and led Billie out into the hallway and to the chapel.

We went inside, and thankfully it was empty. I got Billie calmed down enough to tell her what had happened at the school and afterward.

“They’ve put him into a chemical coma and are supercooling his body.”

“To reduce swelling and bleeding,” she said, nodding.

“And the neurosurgeons here are the best. He’s in their hands now.”

“And God’s,” Billie said, staring at the cross on the wall in the chapel before pulling away from me to go down on her knees.

I joined her and we held hands and begged our savior for mercy.

Chapter 5

Hours passed like days as we waited outside the surgical unit. Bree showed up before noon.

“Anything?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“Billie,” Bree said, hugging her. “We’re going to find who did this to John. I promise you that.”

“You didn’t find Soneji?” I asked in disbelief. “How could he have gotten away if you’d cordoned off the area?”

My wife looked over at me, studied me. “Soneji’s dead, Alex. You all but killed him yourself.”

My mouth hung open, and I blinked several times. “You mean you didn’t send his picture out? You didn’t look for him?”

“We looked for someone who looked like Soneji,” Bree said defensively.

“No,” I said. “He was less than thirty feet from me, light shining down on his face. It was him.”

“Then explain how a man who all but disintegrated right before your eyes can surface more than a decade later,” Bree said.

“I can’t explain it,” I said. “I…maybe I need some coffee. Want some?”

They shook their heads, and I got up, heading toward the hospital cafeteria, seeing flashbacks from long ago.

I put Gary Soneji in prison after he went on a kidnapping and murder spree that threatened my family. Soneji escaped several years later, and turned to bomb building. He detonated several, killing multiple people before we spotted him in New York City. We chased Soneji into Grand Central Station, where we feared he’d explode another bomb. Instead he grabbed a baby.

At one point, Soneji held the baby up and screamed at me, “This doesn’t end here, Cross. I’m coming for you, even from the grave if I have to.”

Then he threw the infant at us. Someone caught her, but Soneji escaped into the vast abandoned tunnel system below Manhattan. We tracked him in there. Soneji attacked me in the darkness, and knocked me down and almost killed me before I was able to shoot him. The bullet shattered his jaw, ripped apart his tongue, and blew out the side of one cheek.

Soneji staggered away from me, was swallowed by the darkness. He must have pitched forward then and sprawled on the rocky tunnel floor. The impact set off a small bomb in his pocket. The tunnel exploded into white-hot flames.

When I got to him, Soneji was engulfed, curled up, and screaming. It lasted several seconds before he stopped. I stood there and watched Soneji burn. I saw him shrivel up and turn coal black.

But as sure as I was of that memory, I was also sure I’d seen Gary Soneji that morning, a split second before he tried to shoot me in the heart and blow Sampson’s head off.

I’m coming for you, even from