Page 113 of Every Last Breath

“Five agonizing days of waiting. News cameras posted out front, headlines about the impending gruesome deaths, with pictures and details of what it’s like to die horribly, not just from smallpox, but from this amped version of smallpox-M. No vaccine. No treatment. No chance for survival. Imagine the footage of body bags coming out, played on a loop for weeks afterward.” Goose bumps raised the hairs on Maddox’s arms.

“Dear God.” Doc put a hand to her stomach.

Maddox roped her hair into a ponytail, tugging an elastic band around the damp curls. “That would be the ultimate win for someone like Novak.”

“A win we’re not going to let him have.” Castle pounded a fist on the table and exchanged a nod with Cole.

What the hell was that about? They were barely allies and would never be buds.

“Has the threat matrix been refined?” Maddox asked.

“Yes.” Harper hit a button bringing up a color-coded matrix. “The charity event at the Hirshhorn Museum is expected to have a hundred and fifty participants. The concert at the National Gallery of Art can seat two hundred and fifty. The show at the Capital One Arena can hold almost twenty thousand. But forty thousand are expected to attend the cinema series at the Washington Convention Center.”

“Shit.” Reece rocked back in his chair and looked at his watch. “The concert starts in less than two hours, but won’t he go for the larger numbers?”

Maddox scanned the matrix. “Not necessarily. What do we know about these events?”

“The Hirshhorn will be a list of who’s who in DC, bringing in big dollars for charity,” Sanborn said.

Socialites and millionaires. A distinct possibility. “The concert?”

“Classical music. Local musicians,” Cutter said. “Folks from all backgrounds. It’s free.”

“It’s still early enough in the day that children could be there.” Maddox took a sip of water. “I don’t think it’s the concert. I think he’ll avoid killing children. Women, too, if possible, but that doesn’t look likely.”

“The Washington Convention Center will have the biggest draw. What’s playing?” Gideon asked.

“It’s a marathon of the Jurassic Park films,” Cole said, looking at her. “If you’re right about him, he won’t hit the movie series. Kids and teens will be there in droves.”

“Are you sure, Maddox?” Sanborn pressed his fingers into a steeple below his chin. “You know what’s at stake.”

Everyone stared at her, waiting. Nothing was certain. Her heart squeezed. She couldn’t get this wrong. She needed all the pieces in play before she answered. “The show at the Capital One Arena is a comedy act, right?”

“Comedian Dez Dax is performing at seven,” Harper said.

Reece hiked an eyebrow. “That’s not a comedy show.”

“What do you mean?” Maddox folded her hands to keep them from shaking.

“It’s Dez Dax. Dr. Sex.” Reece swept his hands out dramatically as if she should understand.

“He used to be a comedian,” Castle said. “Parlayed his skit about how to pick up a woman and have guilt-free sex into motivational speaking gigs for men. He’s crazy popular. Has great advice.” Castle was a womanizer who didn’t like attachments. He certainly didn’t need help in that department.

“So only men go to his shows?” she asked. This could be it. The break they needed so badly.

“Smart women would go to hear the techniques this guy espouses,” Cutter said, “so they don’t fall prey to it, but his stuff is geared toward men.”

“The Ghost was a floater,” Maddox said, thinking out loud, “bouncing from place to place. We have no idea if he knows enough about American culture, much less this Dax guy, to understand the perfection of the target. But a big draw event with no children and practically no women couldn’t get any better for Novak.”

Cole put a hand on her arm. “There was a big article about Dax in the Washington Post Novak had in his room. It’s going to be a sold-out show. Dax is breaking record numbers, at Madison Square Garden in New York, now here. I’m sure it’s been mentioned on TV too.”

Her pulse pounded. Novak’s profile pointed to this. But what if she was wrong?

“Is the show the target, Maddox?” Sanborn folded his arms. “What does your gut say?”

This fit everything she knew about the Ghost. This event made the most sense. “I think he’ll hit the Dez Dax show. The arena is across the street from the hotel where he was staying, which would explain why he chose the Hotel Monaco. Novak would consider a job clean if it only took out men, but he’d settle for a high percentage.”

She wished there was a way to confirm they were on the right track.