When we got to the house and I parked the car, Jannie climbed out slowly, almost reverently. She stared up at our old homestead as if it were the Cathedral of Notre Dame. She did a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn, checked out our neighborhood on Fifth Street, and nodded her approval.
"There's no place like home," she finally whispered, 'just like in The Wizard of Oz." She turned to me. "You even got the Batman and Robin kite down out of the tree. Praise the Lord."
I grinned and I could feel something good spreading through my body. I knew what it was. I wasn't petrified of losing Jannie anymore. "Actually, Nana climbed out there and got the kite down," I said.
"You, stop. "Nana Mama laughed and waved a hand at me.
We followed Jannie inside the house and she immediately picked up Rosie the cat. She held Rosie close to her face and got licked with Rosie's sandpaper tongue. Then she slowly danced with the family cat for a magical moment or two, just as she had on the night of little Alex's christening.
Jannie softly sang, "Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm so happy I'm home, I love all of you."
It was so fine and good to watch and be a part of and yes, Jannie Cross, you're right, there is no place like home. Maybe that's why I work so fiercely to protect it.
But then again, maybe I'm just rationalizing about the way I am, and probably always will be.
Chapter Seventy-Two
I went to the FBI field office early the next morning. The floor was buzzing with faxes, phones, personal computers, and energy good and bad. It was already pretty clear that Mitchell Brand wasn't our man, and maybe even that he had been set up.
Betsey Cavalierre had returned from her weekend off. She had a tan, a bright smile, and looked nicely rested. I wondered briefly where she had been, but then I was sucked into the powerful vortex of the investigation again.
The high-tech FBI war room was still in place, but now three of the four walls were covered with possible leads. The FBI point of view was that every avenue must be explored. The director had already gone on record that it was the largest manhunt in FBI history. Corporate America was applying enormous pressure. The same thing had happened after the Unabomber had killed a New York businessman in the early nineties.
I spent most of the day in a windowless, seemingly airless conference room watching an endless slide show, along with several agents and Metro police detectives. Suspects were continuously shown on the big screen, then discussed, and placed into three categories: Discard, Active, and Extremely Active.
At six o'clock that night, Senior Agent Walsh held a meeting that covered the possibility that the crew might strike again soon. Betsey Cavalierre arrived late for the briefing. She sat in the back and observed.
Two FBI behavioral psychologists had worked up a list of potential future targets for the Mastermind. The targets included multinational banks, other top insurance companies, credit-card companies, communications conglomerates, and Wall Street firms.
One of the behavioral psychologists, Dr. Joanna Rodman, stated that the robberies demonstrated venom and hatred like she'd never seen before. She said the perpetrators relished outwitting authorities, and possibly hungered for fame and notoriety.
Dr. Rodman then made her most challenging statement. She believed that the Mastermind would strike again. "I'm willing to bet on it," she said, 'and I'm not a betting type of person."
I remained quiet for most of the meeting. I preferred to sit in the back of the class and listen. That was the way I had gone through Georgetown undergraduate and then Johns Hopkins.
Agent Cavalierre would have none of it. "Dr. Cross, what do you think about the possibility of our Mastermind hitting again?" she asked shortly after Dr. Rodman finished speaking. "Care to make your bet?"
I rubbed my lower face and I remembered that I'd had the same tic in grad school. I sat up in my seat.
"I'm not a betting person either. I think the list of potential targets is thorough. I agree with most of what's been said. One person is running this thing. Different crews were recruited for very specific tasks."
I frowned slightly at Betsey, then I went on. "I think the first robbery-murders were supposed to terrify everybody. They did. But in the Metro Hartford job, the crew was supposed to operate quickly and efficiently, without bloodshed. I didn't see evidence of venom or hatred in the Metro Hartford kidnapping. Not from what the hostages told us. That's inconsistent with the earlier bank robberies. The fact that no one was killed makes me believe … that it's all over. It's done."
"Thirty million and out?" Betsey Cavalierre asked. "That's it?"
I nodded. "I think the Mastermind's game now is catch me if you can. And by the way you can't."
Chapter Seventy-Three
Betsey Cavalierre came up to me after the briefing ended," Not to be a total suck-up, but I agree with you," she said. "I think he might be playing with us. He may have even set up Mitchell Brand."
"I think it's possible," I said. "Strange and insane as it seems on the face of it. He has a huge ego, he's competing, and that's the best thing we have going for us right now. It's the only small edge that we have."
"We're going to break for the night. Have a drink with me downstairs, Alex. I want to talk to you. I promise not to babble about the Mastermind."
I winced," Betsey I have to get home tonight. My little girl came back from the hospital yesterday," I told her. "Sorry I can't believe this has happened twice. I'm not trying to avoid you."
She smiled kindly. "I understand and it's no big deal. I just have this sixth sense that you need somebody to talk to. Go home. I've got plenty to do here. One more thing. A team of us is heading to Hartford tomorrow. We're going to interview employees and former employees at Metro Hartford You should be part of the group. It's important, Alex. We leave from Boiling Field at around eight."
"I'll be there at Boiling. Somehow, we'll get the Mastermind. If he did set up Mitchell Brand, it's his first mistake. It means he's taking chances he doesn't have to take."
I went home and had a fabulous dinner with Nana and the kids, the best in all of Washington that night. Nana had cooked a turkey, which she does once every couple of months. She says that the white meat of a turkey, properly prepared, is too good to have only twice a year, at Christmas and Thanksgiving.