Title:Cross Country
Author(s): James Patterson
Publisher(s): Vision
Pages: 448
Year: 2009
Format: MOBI
Language: English
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I asked Flaherty before we were even out of the air-conditioned office. “What$prime;s going on? What just happened back there?” “Not now.” He walked over and opened a door and gestured for me to go out first. The two guards didn$prime;t even look up. One of them was scribbling in a file and the other was jabbering on the phone when we left. Business as usual here in the bowels of hell. As soon as the door closed behind us, Flaherty took my arm.
“You need some help?” “Jesus, Flaherty. Thank you.” “They break your nose?” “Feels that way.” “Looks it too. I know a guy. Here.” He handed me a small bottle of water and I started to empty it down my throat. “Go slow, fella.” He steered me over to an old off-white Peugeot 405 parked under a shade tree nearby. My duffel was already in the back seat.
“Thank you,” I said again. Once we were moving, I asked him, “How did you do this?” “When you didn$prime;t show up on Thursday, I figured there were only a few possibilities. A hundred got me your name. Another five hundred got you out.” He took a business card from his breast pocket and handed it to me. It was from Citibank, with an address in Lagos. On the back in blue ballpoint was written ACROSS9786EY4. “You$prime;re going to want to change that pass code. And probably wire in another grand or so if you can.” “What about my family?” They came rushing into my mind all at once.
“Have you spoken with them? Do they know what$prime;s happening?” “Listen, don$prime;t take this the wrong way, but I$prime;m not your social worker. I know you probably feel like you$prime;ve been through the eighteenth circle of hell or whatever, but you can$prime;t count on me for this kind of shit. Okay? I don$prime;t mean to be harsh. But that$prime;s the way it is here these days. There$prime;s a lot going on right now.” He tipped a Camel Light out of a pack, lit it, and blew twin streams of smoke through his nostrils. “You can call them from the hotel. Your family.” “I$prime;m moved by your compassion.”
He grinned straight ahead. I guess we understood each other. Mine was obviously not the saddest or worst story Ian Flaherty had heard in Lagos. Probably not by a long shot. “You have any food in this car?” I asked him. He reached over and popped the glove compartment. There was a chocolate protein drink in a can. It was warm and a little gritty, and nothing had ever tasted better to me. I threw my head back, closed my eyes, and tried for the first time in three days to relax and, maybe, think in straight lines about the murder investigation and what had just happened to me.
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