Kill Alex Cross

There was no such thing as too much punishment for the people of America.

Or as they liked to say in this country of excess and greed: more is more.

“Hala!”

Tariq appeared suddenly in the bathroom door, dripping wet. His chubby body was drifted with mounds of soap bubbles and nothing else.

“You look ridiculous,” she said, but with a laugh. It was good to see him so at ease. He was obviously drunk on their good fortune.

“Ha-laa!” he sang out, and began a little dance for her while he was at it. “Come join me! The hot water is endless.”

“Not while I’m working, darling. And it’s Julia, remember?” she said.

“Ah, yes.” He grinned broadly. “I forgot that I’m in love with another woman.”

They were Julia and Daniel Aziz from Philadelphia now, and they had American passports to prove it. They’d arrived at the Four Seasons just the day before. Uncle called it hiding in plain sight.

The pace of all these changes was absolutely breathtaking. Only two days earlier, they’d been waiting in the dark to find out what would happen next — and now this.

After Tariq had sloshed back into the tub, Hala returned to her work. Let him enjoy this ridiculous American palace a while longer, she thought. The less he worried, the better it was for everyone. As far as Tariq was concerned, everything had changed for them.

But it hadn’t, of course. The elders were still watching. It was more important than ever that she and Tariq make a good impression, and soon. If they weren’t careful, they could become expendable to the Family just as quickly as they had risen to this position.

Be prepared to die at any time.

That, above all, remained true. Because it wasn’t just an opportunity they’d been given, Hala knew. It was also a test.

This war was now in their hands.

I CAN’T SAY I was surprised to find out that Nana Mama had forbidden Bree from bringing Ava over to Child and Family Services the next day. Never mind that I’d insisted on the trip to Family Services. Bree told me on the phone that afternoon than Nana was digging in her heels.

So I came home determined to get the situation taken care of myself.

Nana was waiting for me when I got there. I found her alone, reading Little Bee at the kitchen table, like a security guard.

“I need to talk to you,” she said.

“I’m not going to fight about this, Nana. We can’t help every kid on the streets of DC,” I said, and kept moving.

“Who said anything about that?” she called after me, but I was already halfway to the stairs.

I hated being cast as the bad guy. It wasn’t like I thought Nana was crazy for feeling the way she did, but I truly believed I was doing the right thing here. For everyone involved, even the girl.

At least up until what happened next.

When I got upstairs to Damon’s room, Ava was sitting on the bed reading one of his old X-Men comics.

“Ava, it’s time to go,” I said. “I’m going to bring you down to the intake center and get you settled over there, okay? Just like we talked about last night.”

She wouldn’t even look at me. She lifted and lowered one very cold shoulder and swung her feet onto the floor. Maybe she’d been getting pointers from Nana.

Then, as she got up to shuffle over to the door, I noticed something on the floor behind her. Something under the bed.

“What’s that?” I said, pointing.

“Nothin’.”

She didn’t even glance back. The girl was a terrible liar.

“Hang on a second.”

I walked over and knelt down on the rug to have a look. There, between the bed and the nightstand, was a small pile of food. I saw half a loaf of bread, some bananas, a sleeve of crackers, and a jar of peanut butter.

Honestly, I wasn’t so surprised. It’s not unusual for a kid from the streets to hoard food, given the chance. And I wasn’t even remotely mad about it, either. Ava had done this by instinct, as likely as anything. Survival instinct.

Maybe that’s why it broke my heart. Why should a thirteen-year-old kid have to think about where her next meal might be coming from?

Why should Ava? Or anyone?

Just like that, something shifted inside me. It happened the way these things do sometimes, when you least expect it — or even want it.