“Where's Adanne Tansi?” I said.
“Don't make me cross, Cross.” The commander chuckled softly; he'd been a jackass joker the last time too, I remembered. The accent was Yoruban and the voice was calm. Too calm. He had more self-control than I would have thought he should, given that I'd tried to run him over and put tire marks on his ugly face.
“Just tell me if she's alive,” I said. “That's all 1 need to hear from you.”
“She's alive. Somewhat.” He spread his hands. “Now-the killer you chased here? What do you know? Are you CIA? Or are you working with her? The reporter?”
At least he wanted something from me. Quid pro quo was better than nothing, I guess.
“There are lots of Tigers, killers for hire,” I said. 'You know that. The one I'm after is physically large. He operates internationally, with teams in Lagos and Washington at the very least. I believe his name is Sowande.
“As of two days ago, he was in South Darfur. I don't know where the hell he is now.” I paused and stared into his eyes.
“I'm not CIA, definitely not CIA. Tell me where she is.”
His shoulders barely shrugged. “She's here. At Kirikiri. No need to worry about her. She's close by. Look! Look at that. There she is now. The news reporter is here.”
Cross Country
Chapter 111
A POLICE OFFICER I didn't recognize was pushing Adanne into the room. She shuffled ahead of him, with a wad of tape over her mouth. Blood streaked both her cheeks.
Her braids had been cut short; they stuck out at angles from her head. One of her eyes was swollen shut and colored blue-black. She saw me and nodded that she was okay. I didn't believe it for a second.
“Now maybe there's more that you can tell me,” the commander said. “Something I don't already know about the Tiger. Why did you come here? Not to solve a murder case. Why would I believe that? How do you know Adanne Tansi?”
I began to shout at him. 'What the hell is the matter with you? I'm a cop, just like you. I'm investigating a murder case.
It's that simple.'
The cuffs tore at my wrists. Then the pain in my shoulder turned to nausea. I thought I was going to throw up.
The commander nodded once at the cop who'd brought in Adanne. The underling threw a hard uppercut into her stomach. I felt the cruel blow in my own body.
Adanne groaned behind the tape and fell to her knees. The dirt on her face was streaked with tears, but she wasn't crying now. She was watching me. Blood from her mouth was turning the tape red. Her eyes were pleading. But for what?
“Why are you doing this?” I spit between clenched teeth. I could imagine my hands around his throat. “My friend was killed in Washington. That's why I'm here. That's all there is. I'm not part of some conspiracy.”
“Take the tape off her mouth,” the commander ordered.
The guard ripped it away and Adanne said, “Alex, don't worry about me.”
The commander turned to the cop. “Again. Hit her.” He turned back to me. “Alex! Worry about her.”
“Okay!” I cut him off. 'The Tiger's name is Abidemi Sowande. He disappeared in nineteen eighty-one, when he was nine years old, turned up in England at a university for two years, and hasn't used that identity since.
“He's murdered a lot of people, here and in America. He uses wild boys. He may control other Tigers. That's all I know. That's everything I have. You know about the diamonds, the gasoline, the illegal trading.”
The commander kept his hand in the air to hold off the next punch. “You're sure that's it?”
“I'm sure, goddammit! I'm just a cop from Washington, DC. Adanne has nothing to do with this.”
He squinted, thinking about it, and then seemed satisfied. His hand came down slowly. “I should kill you anyway,” he said. “But that's not my choice.”
Then I heard another voice in the room. “No, that would be my choice, Detective Cross.”
Cross Country
Chapter 112
A MAN STEPPED out of the shadows, a large man-the mercenary soldier known as the Tiger. The one I'd been chasing.
“No one seems to know much about me. That's good, don't you think? I want to keep it that way. She writes stories in newspapers, the London Times, maybe the New York Times. You get in the way a lot.”
He walked over to me. “Unbelievable,” he said. “Some people fear you, eh? Not me. I find you to be a funny man. Big joke. The joke is on you, Detective Cross.”
