This shopping trip had been, without question, a massive success for Alex Cross.
After settling 47 and the Black Kaiser into the presidential suite next to Duggan's, he assigned the Sisterhood to take over perimeter security on the top floor. As for the blue-grade killers who had been responsible for that duty before, they were reassigned to replace the green-grade guards watching over the underground training base.
By the time everything was in order, it was already 11 p.m. Alex frowned. Duggan still hadn't returned. Clearly, something had gone wrong.
He pulled out his phone and dialed. After a few seconds, the line connected. Before Alex could ask anything, Duggan's voice came through first:
"Apologies, Mr. Cross. I haven't been able to locate Viggo. He left his headquarters about an hour before I arrived. I've turned over every one of the Viggo Gang's hideouts, and still found no trace."
Alex didn't seem overly concerned.
"It's fine. Come back for now," he instructed before hanging up.
Viggo was cunning—no doubt about that. Even in the films, John Wick himself nearly died at his hands.
But… Alex put his phone down and turned to Becky, who had now partnered with Ramsey.
"Viggo Tarasov. Find this man. I want his exact hiding place delivered to the Sisterhood. And remember—aside from Viggo and his son, wipe everyone else out."
Becky gave him a sweet smile, laced her fingers together, and flexed them.
"No problem, Mr. Cross. Leave it to me."
She opened her laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard. In little more than ten minutes, she snapped a picture of the data displayed on screen and sent it straight to the four off-duty Sisters.
Half an hour later, just as Duggan
was finally returning to the hotel, the Sisterhood dragged in Viggo and his son, both with shattered legs, through the front lobby.
When Alex got the message, he shot Becky a thumbs-up. He then instructed the Sisters to hand the captives over to Dwight. Once, Alex had to manage every detail himself for lack of capable hands. But now, to handle such petty matters personally would be a waste of his time.
The next morning.
Still half asleep, Alex was woken by the shrill ring of his phone. Groggily, he grabbed it and hit "accept."
An elderly, authoritative voice came through:
"Alex Cross, isn't it?"
He cracked one eye open, glanced at the caller ID: Unknown Number. His brows furrowed. Without hesitation, he hung up.
Even though the man had called him by name, Alex disliked his tone. And being woken up early in the morning from pleasant dreams made it worse. He didn't even bother replying. Just hung up.
A few seconds later, the phone rang again. Alex sighed deeply, sat up, and waited a moment before calmly answering. This time, he spoke first:
"Not buying a house, not buying a car, no insurance, no loans. I don't care how you got my number, but you'd better think twice before calling me again."
And again, he hung up without waiting for a response.
Rising from bed, he walked into the living room. After greeting Anna, Fox, and the others at breakfast, he glanced over at Ramsey, who hadn't slept all night and was still hammering away at her keyboard. Finally, he handed his phone to Becky, who was sipping coffee.
"Track this unknown number. If I'm right, he'll call again soon."
No sooner had he spoken than the ringtone blared. Becky quickly set down her cup, hooked his phone to her laptop, and typed a few rapid commands. She flashed Alex an "OK" sign.
This time, Alex didn't hesitate. He picked up.
The caller spoke quickly, as if afraid the line would be cut again:
"Mr. Cross, I have a business proposition for you."
"Not interested. Hanging up," Alex replied flatly, feigning disinterest.
As expected, the caller scrambled to stop him.
"Wait—Mr. Cross, there's no need to rush. I've come with genuine sincerity."
"Sincerity? I haven't seen any. You haven't even introduced yourself," Alex sneered, watching Becky silently continue tracing the signal.
But the man ignored him, speaking over the words.
"Mr. Cross, I only called to inform you: in about ten minutes, my people will arrive at your hotel. The details of the deal—they'll explain face-to-face."
Since the stranger refused to reveal his identity, Alex didn't push. Once Becky traced the signal, he'd know soon enough. And then, he could deal with the man properly.
Still, he had to admit—his curiosity was piqued.
After all, there were only two ways someone could have gotten his private number:
Through one of the very few individuals who had contact with him so far.
By paying coins to the Guide for access.
Either way, it meant this man had powerful connections—very likely from another High Table organization. And probably one with significant influence.
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