The Big Bad Wolf ак-9

by James Patterson

  ‘Not going to happen. Let’s move this private party inside. Just the three of us,’ I said to Atticus Stonestrom and Pasha. ‘Unless you want the arrest to take place in front of all these guests.’

  The Wolf looked at his lawyer, then shrugged as if this were no big deal to him. He started to walk toward the house. Then he turned – pretending he’d just remembered something. ‘Your little boy’s name,’ he said. ‘It’s also Alex, isn’t it?’

  Chapter One Hundred and Two

  She wasn’t dead! How good was that? How amazing?

  Elizabeth Connelly was lost in her own world again, and it was the best place. She was walking a perfect beach on Oahu’s north shore. She was picking up the most amazing seashells, one after the other, comparing the textures.

  Then she heard shouts – ‘FBI!’ She couldn’t believe it.

  The FBI was here? At the house? Her heart pounded, then nearly stopped, then pounded again, even louder.

  Had they finally come to rescue her? Why else would they be here? Oh my good God!

  Lizzie began to shake all over. Tears spilled down her cheeks. They had to find her and let her out now. The Wolf’s arrogance was about to burn him down!

  I’m in here. I’m here! I’m right here!

  The party got terribly quiet suddenly. Everyone was whispering, and it was hard to hear. But she definitely heard ‘FBI’, and that’s why they were here. ‘Drugs!’ Everyone seemed to think so.

  But Lizzie prayed this wasn’t about drugs. What if they took the Wolf to jail? She would be left here. She couldn’t stop shaking.

  She had to let the FBI know she was here. But how? She was always bound and gagged. They were so close… I’m in the closet! Please look in the closet!

  She had imagined dozens of escape plans, but only after the Wolf opened the door and leashed her out to go to the bathroom or walk in the main part of the house. Lizzie knew there was no way to get out of the locked closet. Not tied up the way she was. She didn’t know how to signal the FBI.

  Then she heard someone making a loud announcement. A male. Deep voice. Calm and in control.

  ‘I’m Agent Mahoney with the FBI. Everyone has to leave the main house immediately. Please assemble on the back lawns. Everyone is to leave the house now! No one leaves the grounds.’

  Lizzie heard shoes scraping the hardwood floors – rapid footsteps. People were leaving, weren’t they? Then what? She’d be all alone. If they took the Wolf away… what would happen to her? There had to be something she could do to let the FBI know she was in here. What?

  Someone named Atticus Stonestrom was talking loudly.

  Then she heard the Wolf speak, and it chilled her. He was still in the house. Arguing with someone. She couldn’t tell who, or exactly what they were saying.

  What can I do? Something! Anything!

  What, what?

  What haven’t I thought of before?

  And then Lizzie had an idea. Actually, she’d had it before, but always dismissed it.

  Because it scared the hell out of her!

  Chapter One Hundred and Three

  ‘I’m glad you’re here to see this for yourself, Atticus,’ the Wolf said to his lawyer. ‘This is such bullshit harassment. My businesses are beyond reproach. You know that better than anyone. This is highly insulting.’ He looked at me. ‘Do you know how many business associates you’ve insulted at this party?’

  I was still restraining myself from his physical threat to my family, to little Alex. I didn’t want to take him down; I wanted to take him out.

  ‘Trust me, this isn’t harassment,’ I told the lawyer. ‘We’re here to arrest your client for kidnapping and murder.’

  Sorokin rolled his eyes. ‘Are you people mad? Do you know who I am?’ he asked. Jesus, I’d heard almost the same speech the day before in Dallas.

  ‘As a matter of fact, I do,’ I said. ‘Your real name is Pasha Sorokin, not Ari Manning. Some people say you’re the Russian Godfather. You’re the Wolf.’

  Sorokin heard me out – then he laughed a crazy laugh. ‘You are such fools. You, especially.’ He pointed at me. ‘You just don’t get it.’

  Suddenly there were shouts coming from one of the other rooms on the first floor. ‘Fire!’ people were yelling.

  ‘C’mon, Alex!’ Mahoney said. He and I left Sorokin with three agents and ran to see what the hell was going on. How could there be a fire? Now?

  Guests were rushing out of a large study off the main living room. There was a fire. It seemed to have started in the study. Mahoney and I pushed through the exiting crowd. Apparently, the fire was in a closet. Swirls of smoke came from under the door. A lot of smoke.

  I didn’t hesitate. I lowered my shoulder and hit the closet door hard. I slammed into it again. The wood cracked this time. I hit it once more and the door collapsed. Thick black smoke billowed out.

  I stepped up close and tried to peer inside. Then I saw something move.

  Someone was in there. I could see a face.

  Elizabeth Connelly was on fire!

  Chapter One Hundred and Four

  I took a breath then lunged forward into the cloud of smoke and heat. I felt the skin on my face begin to burn. I forced myself inside the walk-in closet. Stooped down. I grabbed Elizabeth Connelly in my arms and stumbled backwards out of the closet with her. My eyes were tearing, my face felt blistered. Elizabeth’s eyes were open wide as I removed her gag. Ned Mahoney worked on the rope bindings around her arms.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered in a voice hoarse with smoke. ‘Oh, thank you,’ she gasped.

  Tears ran from her eyes, smudging the soot on her cheeks. My heart thumped a wild beat as I held her hand and waited for the paramedics to come. I couldn’t believe she was alive, but it made everything worthwhile.

  I only got to savor the feeling for a few seconds. Shots rang out. I ran from the den, turned the corner, and saw two agents down, but alive.

  ‘Bodyguard came in firing,’ the closer agent told me. ‘They ran upstairs.’

  I hurried up the stairs with Ned Mahoney following close behind. Why would the Wolf go upstairs? It didn’t make sense to me. More agents joined us. We searched every room. Nothing! We couldn’t find the Wolf, or the bodyguard. Why had they run upstairs?

  Mahoney and I did another full walk-through of all the rooms on the second and third floors. Fort Lauderdale police had begun to arrive and helped secure the house.

  ‘I don’t see how he got out of here,’ Mahoney said. We were huddled together in the second-floor hallway. Puzzled and disgusted.

  ‘Has to be a way out up here somewhere. Let’s look again.’

  We went back down the hallway when I had a thought. I retraced our steps down the second-floor hallway, checking in several guest bedrooms as I walked. At the far end of the hall was another stairway, probably used by the help. We’d already searched it. Sealed it off at the bottom. Then it suddenly struck me. A small detail that I had overlooked.

  I hurried down to the first landing. There was a casement window and a window seat there. It was just as I’d remembered. Two small cushions on the floor. I opened the latched cover of the window seat.

  Ned Mahoney groaned out loud. He saw what I’d found. The escape route. The Wolf had gotten out!

  ‘He might still be here. Let’s see where this goes,’ I said. Then I lowered myself into the opening. There were narrow wooden stairs, a half-dozen of them. Mahoney held a flashlight on me as I climbed down.

  ‘It’s here, Ned,’ I called back to him. I saw how they’d made it out. A window was open. I could see water a few feet below.

  ‘They went into the Intercoastal,’ I called up to Mahoney. ‘They’re in the water!’

  Chapter One Hundred and Five

  I joined the frantic search in the waterway and the rest of the neighborhood, but it was already getting dark. Mahoney and I raced up and down estate-lined narrow streets. Then we drove along nearby Las Olas Boulevard, hoping against hope that someon
e had spotted two men in soaking-wet clothes. But no one had seen the Wolf or his bodyguard.

  I wouldn’t give up. I went back to the Isla Bahia-estates area. Something was wrong. Why hadn’t anyone spotted two men fitting that description? I wondered if they had diving gear in the cellar alcove. How thoroughly had the Wolf planned his escape? What extra precautions had he taken?

  Then I let my mind go in a different direction – he’s arrogant and fearless. He didn’t believe we’d find him and come here to take him down. He didn’t have an escape route! So maybe he was still hiding in Isla Bahia.

  I passed my ideas on to HRT, but they’d already begun to go door-to-door at the estates. There were dozens of agents and local police combing the exclusive neighborhood in Fort Lauderdale. I wouldn’t give up, wouldn’t let the others quit. Whatever drove me – stubbornness? perseverance? – had paid off before. But we didn’t find the Wolf, or anyone who’d seen him in Isla Bahia.

  ‘There’s nothing? No sign? Nobody saw anything?’ I asked Mahoney.

  ‘Nothing,’ Mahoney said. ‘We found a cocker spaniel on the loose. That’s it.’

  ‘We know who owns the dog?’ I asked.

  Mahoney rolled his eyes. I didn’t blame him. ‘I’ll check.’ He went away and came back after a couple of minutes.

  ‘It belongs to a Mr and Mrs Steve Davis. The Davises live at the end of the street. We’ll bring them their dog. Satisfied?’

  I shook my head. ‘Not really. Let’s the two of us return the dog,’ I said. ‘I don’t know why a dog would be loose this late at night. Is the family home?’

  ‘Doesn’t look like it. The lights are off at the house. C’mon, Alex. Jesus. This is hopeless. You’re clutching at straws. Pasha Sorokin is gone.’

  ‘Let’s go. Get the dog,’ I said. ‘We’re going to the Davis house.’

  Chapter One Hundred and Six

  We had started toward the Davis house with the brown and white cocker spaniel when a report came over the two-way. ‘Two suspicious males. Heading toward Las Olas Boulevard. They’ve spotted us! We’re in pursuit.’

  We were only a few blocks from the shopping district and got there in minutes. The cocker spaniel was barking in the back seat. Fort Lauderdale police patrol cars and FBI sedans had already formed a tight ring around a GAP clothing store. More patrol cars were still arriving, their sirens screaming in the night. The street was crowded and the local police were having trouble stopping the pedestrian flow.

  Mahoney drove up to the blockade. We left a window cracked for the dog. We jumped out and ran toward GAP. We were wearing flak jackets, carrying handguns.

  The store lights were blazing. I could see people inside. But not the Wolf. Not the bodyguard either.

  ‘We think it’s him,’ an agent told us when we got up close to the store.

  ‘How many gunmen inside?’ I asked.

  ‘We count two. Two that we know about. Could be more. There’s a lot of confusion.’

  ‘Yeah, no shit,’ said Mahoney. ‘I get that impression.’

  For the next few minutes nothing useful happened – except that more Lauderdale patrol cars arrived on the scene. So did a heavily armed and armored SWAT Unit. A hostage negotiator showed up. Then a pair of news helicopters began to hover over the GAP store and surrounding palm trees.

  ‘Nobody’s answering the goddamn phone inside,’ the negotiator reported. ‘It just rings.’

  Mahoney looked questioningly at me and I shrugged. ‘We don’t even know if it’s them inside.’

  The negotiator took up an electronic bullhorn. ‘This is the Fort Lauderdale police. Come out of the store now. We’re not going to negotiate. Come out with your hands up. Whoever’s in there, get out now!’

  The approach sounded wrong to me. Too confrontational. I walked up to the negotiator. ‘I’m FBI, Agent Cross. Do we need to back him into a corner? He’s violent. He’s extremely dangerous.’

  The negotiator was a stocky guy with a thick mustache; he was wearing a flak jacket, but it wasn’t secured. ‘Get the fuck away from me!’ he shouted in my face.

  ‘This is a federal case,’ I shouted right back. I grabbed the bullhorn out of his hand. The negotiator went at me with his fists, but Mahoney wrestled him to the ground. The press was watching; to hell with them. We had a job to do here.

  ‘This is the FBI!’ I spoke into the bullhorn. ‘I want to talk to Pasha Sorokin.’

  Then suddenly the strangest thing of the night happened, and it had been a very strange night. I almost couldn’t believe it.

  Two men emerged from the front door of the GAP.

  They held their hands over their heads. They were shielding their faces from the cameras, or maybe from us.

  ‘Get down on the ground!’ I shouted at them. They didn’t comply.

  But then I could see – it was Sorokin and the bodyguard.

  ‘We’re not armed,’ Sorokin yelled loud enough for everybody to hear. ‘We’re innocent citizens. We have no guns.’

  I didn’t know whether to believe him. None of us knew what to make of this. The TV helicopter over our heads was getting too close.

  ‘What’s he pulling?’ Mahoney asked me.

  ‘Don’t know… Get down!’ I shouted again.

  The Wolf and the bodyguard continued to walk toward us. Slowly and carefully. Hands held high.

  I moved ahead with Mahoney. We had our guns out. Was this a trick? What could they try with dozens of rifles and handguns aimed at them?

  The Wolf smiled when he saw me. Why the hell was he smiling?

  ‘So, you caught us,’ he called out. ‘Big deal! It doesn’t matter, you know. I have a surprise for you, FBI. Ready? My name is Pasha Sorokin. But I’m not the Wolf.’

  He laughed. ‘I’m just some guy shopping in the GAP store. My clothes got wet. I’m not the Wolf, Mr FBI. Is that funny or what? Does it make your day? It makes mine. And it will make the Wolf’s too.’

  Chapter One Hundred and Seven

  Pasha Sorokin wasn’t the Wolf. Was that possible? There was no way to know for sure. Over the next forty-eight hours it was confirmed that the men we had captured in Florida were Pasha Sorokin and Ruslan Fedorov. They were Red Mafiya, but both claimed never to have met the real Wolf. They said they had played the ‘parts’ they were given – stand-in roles – according to them. Now they were willing to make the best deals they could.

  There was no way for us to know for sure what was going on – but the deal-making went on for two days. The Bureau liked to make deals. I didn’t. Contacts were made inside the Mafiya; more doubts were raised about Pasha Sorokin being the Wolf. Finally, the CIA operatives who’d gotten the Wolf out of Russia were found and brought to Pasha’s cell. They said he wasn’t the man they’d help get out of the Soviet Union.

  Then it was Sorokin who gave us a name we wanted – one that blew my mind completely, blew everybody’s minds. It was part of his ‘deal’.

  He gave us Sphinx.

  And he told us where we could find him.

  The next morning, four teams of FBI agents waited outside Sphinx’s house until he left for work. We had agreed not to take him inside the house. I wouldn’t let it go down that way. I just couldn’t do it.

  We all felt that Lizzie Connelly and her daughters had been through more than enough pain already. They didn’t need to see Brendan Connelly – Sphinx – arrested at the family house in Buckhead. They didn’t need to find out the awful truth about him like that.

  I sat in a dark blue sedan parked two blocks up the street, but with a view of the large Georgian-style house. I was feeling numb. I remembered the first time I’d been there. I recalled my talk with the girls; and then with Brendan Connelly in his den. His grief had seemed heartfelt, as genuine as his young daughters’.

  Of course, no one else had suspected he had betrayed his wife, sold her to another man. Pasha Sorokin had met Elizabeth at a party in the Connelly house. He’d wanted her; Brendan Connelly didn’t. The judge had been having
affairs for years. Elizabeth reminded Sorokin of the model Claudia Schiffer, who had appeared on billboards all over Moscow during his gangster days. So the horrifying trade was made. A husband had sold his own wife into captivity; he’d gotten rid of her in the worst way imaginable. How could he have hated Elizabeth so much? And how could she have loved him?

  Ned Mahoney was in the car with me, waiting for action: the takedown of Sphinx. If we couldn’t have the Wolf yet, he was our second choice; the consolation prize.

  ‘I wonder if Elizabeth knew about her husband’s secret life?’ Mahoney muttered.

  ‘Maybe she suspected something. They didn’t sleep together regularly. When I visited the house, Connelly showed me his den. There was a bed in there. Unmade.’

  ‘Think he’ll go to work today?’ Mahoney asked. He was calmly munching an apple. A very cool head to work with.

  ‘He’ll know we took down Sorokin and Fedorov by now. I figure he’ll be cautious. He’ll probably play it straight. Hard to tell.’

  ‘Maybe we should take him at the house. You think?’ He bit into his apple again. ‘Alex?’

  I shook my head. ‘I can’t do it, Ned. Not to his family.’

  ‘Okay. Just asking, buddy.’

  We waited. A little past nine, Brendan Connelly finally came out the front door of the house. He walked to a silver Porsche Boxster parked in the wraparound driveway. He had on a blue suit, carried a black gym bag. He was whistling.

  ‘Scumbag!’ Mahoney whispered. Then he spoke into his two-way. ‘This is Alpha One… we have Sphinx leaving the house. He’s getting into a Porsche. Prepare to converge. Vehicle/license is V6T-81K.’

  We heard back immediately. ‘This is Braves One… we have Sphinx in full sight too. We’ve got him covered. He’s ours.’