The Mastermind started forward, but then he turned away. This wasn’t the night that Cross would die. He had taken mercy, spared him.
The reason: It was too dark on this street. He wouldn’t be able to see Cross’s eyes when he died.
Chapter 66
SOMETHING SURPRISING happened the next morning; it was an event I don’t think any of us was expecting. I wasn’t, and it threw me for a complete loop. We had gathered at the FBI’s New Orleans office for the morning briefing. There were about thirty of us in a large and sterile room that looked out on the muddy brown Mississippi River.
At nine o’clock, Kyle addressed the surveillance team that had been on the watch during the previous twenty-four hours. He finished with them and went on to the day’s assignments. He handed them out and was very specific. It was a typical Craig performance: clear, to the point, efficient, never a mistake or the hint of one.
When he was finished, or thought that he was, a hand shot into the air. “Excuse me, Mr. Craig, you didn’t mention me. What am I supposed to do today?”
It was Jamilla Hughes and she didn’t sound happy. Kyle was already collecting his notes, shuffling a few papers into his thick black briefcase. He barely glanced up as he said, “That’s up to Dr. Cross, Inspector Hughes. Please see him.”
The remark and its delivery were unnecessarily curt, even for Kyle. I was taken aback by his rudeness, or at least the lack of any tact.
“This is complete bullshit!” Jamilla rose from her seat. “It’s unacceptable, Mr. Craig. Especially that irritating, blasé tone of yours.”
The FBI agents in the room looked at her. Usually, no one dared confront Kyle on anything. After all, he was rumored to be in line for the director’s job someday. Moreover, many of them felt he deserved it. He was certainly smarter than anybody else in the Bureau. He also worked harder than anyone I knew.
“Look, this is no reflection on Detective Cross,” Jamilla went on, “but my work in California helped open this case up. I don’t want anybody’s pat on the back, no condescending applause, thank you, but I came all the way here and I can contribute. So use me, and respect me. By the way, I couldn’t help noticing there’s only one other woman on this entire task force. Don’t bother to make excuses,” she said, and waved off anything Kyle might have been ready to say in his defense.
Kyle kept his cool. “Like the supposed vampires, Inspector Hughes, gender doesn’t matter to me. I do applaud your efforts during the early stages of this case. But as I said, you can see Dr. Cross about your assignment. Or, you can go back home right now, if you like. Thank you, everyone,” he said as he saluted the team. “Happy hunting. Hopefully, today will be our day.”
I was surprised, mostly by Kyle’s response, but also by Jamilla’s quick anger. I was uneasy when she came up to me after the meeting.
“He got me so mad. Grrrr,” she said, and shook her head and made a face. “I have a bad temper sometimes, but he was wrong. There’s something fucked up about that man. I have a bad feeling about him. Why would he have it in for me? Because I’m working with you? So what do we do today, Dr. Cross? I’m not leaving because he’s a goddamn idiot.”
“He was wrong. I’m sorry about what happened, Jamilla. Let’s talk about what we do next.”
“Don’t be condescending,” she said.
“I’m not. Why don’t you get off the soapbox, though.”
She still wasn’t over her bad scene with Kyle. “He doesn’t like women,” she said. “Trust me on that. He also practices the three C’s that some men are so fond of: compete, criticize, control.”
“So tell me what you really think about Kyle. And men in general.”
Jamilla finally managed a smile. “I think, and I’m being pretty objective and measured about this, that he’s a total control freak and a complete asshole. Your so-called friend. As for men, it varies with the individual.”
Chapter 67
THE REAL vampires had arrived and they believed they were invincible. William and Michael knew that the exotic city of New Orleans belonged to them from the instant they crossed the bridge. They were a couple of young princes with their long blond ponytails, black shirts and trousers, shining leather boots. Their mission ended here if all went well, and it would.
William drove the Red Cross van through the French Quarter—they were on the lookout for prey. The van went slowly back and forth on Burgundy, Dauphine, Bourbon, Royal, Chartres, all of the more famous streets. The sounds of Readysexgo blared from the tape deck. “Supernatural Blonde,” then “Radio Tokyo.”
The brothers finally got out and strolled along Riverwalk. They turned into the Riverwalk Marketplace, and it made William physically ill: Banana Republic, Eddie Bauer, the Limited, Sharper Image, the Gap—mediocrity, tripe, utter stupidity everywhere he looked. “What do you want to do?” William turned to Michael. “Look at all this commercial crap in the middle of this beautiful city.”
“Let’s take somebody out here in their putrid shopping mall. Maybe we should feed in a changing room at the Banana Republic. I love that idea.”
“No!” William said. He grabbed hold of Michael’s arm. “We’ve been working too hard for this. I think we need a distraction.”
They couldn’t take any more prey. Not now. Not so close to where Daniel and Charles had their domain. A distraction was definitely needed. So William drove out of New Orleans along the Bonnet Carre Spillway. He continued on Interstate 10 into the real Louisiana.
William found what he wanted about an hour outside New Orleans. The rock climb wasn’t much, but at least the face was steep. You had to concentrate; if you didn’t, you fell, and you were dead.
The brothers chose to free solo, the most extreme version of the sport. Also the most dangerous by far. In free solo, the climbers used no ropes or any other kind of backup protection.
“We are a couple of hardmen!” Michael laughed and shouted once they were halfway up the two-hundred-foot climb. Hardmen were the toughest climbers of all. They were the best, and it fit the brothers’ self-image.