I, Alex Cross
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Can Alex Cross survive his most chilling - and personal - case ever? Pulled out of a family celebration, Detective Alex Cross gets awful news: A beloved relative has been found brutally murdered. Vowing to catch the killer, he quickly learns that she was mixed up in one of Washington, D.C.'s wildest scenes. And she was not this killer's only victim . . .
The hunt for the murderer leads Alex and his girlfriend, Detective Brianna Stone, to a place where every fantasy is possible, if you have the credentials to get in. Soon they confront some very important, very protected, and very dangerous people who will do anything to keep their secrets safe. As Alex closes in on the killer, he discovers evidence that points to the unimaginable - a revelation that could rock the entire world.
of bed and pulling on a pair of sweats. “Alex, what is it?” “I don’t know yet. I’ll go see. I’ll be right back.” Everything seemed quiet from where I stopped to listen in the middle of the stairs. I could just see the sky going to blue outside, but it was still dark in the house. “Nana?” I called in a voice barely louder than a whisper. There was no answer. Bree was up now too, and at the top of the stairs, only a few feet away. “I’m right here.” When I came down into the front hallway, I
a finger across his touchpad to adjust the image. The cameras were wireless, pan-tilt-zoom units the size of pencil erasers. This particular one was embedded in the room’s smoke detector. A microphone, no bigger than a match head, was hardwired through the ceiling and into the chandelier directly over the king-size bed, where Sasha was just sitting up, smiling blithely, cooing. She straddled Liz, both of them naked now except for expensive-looking costume jewelry, their slinky black cocktail
here,” Cormorant said. Tillman sipped his drink. “That’s something new. The warning, I mean.” The two men were friends, as much as men in their positions could be. Someday they’d share fishing trips and holidays, but for now, it was Mr. Vice President and Agent Cormorant—protectee and protector. “Sir, I think it’s time you brought the president in on Zeus. Specifically the fact that someone connected to the White House or the Cabinet might be a killer.” Tillman’s expression hardened instantly
something called the Swift program. Swift stood for the Society of Worldwide Interbank Financial Telecommunications. It’s a global cooperative based in Belgium that tracks something on the order of six trillion transactions every day. The database doesn’t include routine banking—they don’t necessarily know when I go to the ATM—but just about everything else is in there. The program was under all kinds of legal scrutiny, since it had come out that the US government was using it to track terror
outside. So no excess coddling or making excuses for unacceptable behavior. I nodded Janelle’s way. “We all get it. We’re all sad and we’re angry. C’mere, everybody. Maybe I’m the only one who needs a little help right now.” We gathered close for a group hug, and it was better that way, thinking about Nana without speaking. Bree was the first to break down, and then everybody was in tears. No shame in that, nothing but love on display. That may not work for all families, but it sure does for