The Heart of the Jungle, стр. 23
Jason fixed his eyes firmly on Cross's. "What do you know about the Heart of the Jungle?" he asked.
"Which jungle?" Cross asked.
"I'm not sure. Michael and Brunner mentioned something about getting to the Heart of the Jungle, and I thought you might have some idea what they meant."
Cross considered for a few minutes and then shrugged. "Lots of jungles in South America where Brunner had some drug contacts," he offered. "Maybe they were talking about that."
Jason shook his head. "No, they were very specific. They said they needed Chris's daughter to get to the Heart of the Jungle."
Cross looked over at Chris with sympathy in his eyes. He shook his head. "If it's some kind of code, it isn't one I've ever heard of. I'm sorry."
Jason searched his expression for some sign he was holding back, but could find none. Apparently, he was telling the truth. It was time to switch tactics. Time for manipulation.
He traced his finger along the tabletop, keeping his eyes on Cross.
This next part was the delicate bit. To get Cross to give up the kind of information they were looking for, they were going to have to get him to confess to dealing with some unsavory people and that he'd perjured himself in the courtroom.
Jason looked over at Chris, and his eyes filled with sorrow. "I can't imagine what it's like to lose a child. Neither one of us can guess at the kind of hell Chris must have been through. Not knowing."
Cross followed Jason's speech, and he too turned sympathetic eyes on Chris. Jason knew exactly which buttons to push, and he wielded that skill now as he played Cross like a well-tuned instrument.
"You have two young daughters, don't you?" Jason asked, setting the hook firmly.
Cross gasped. Jason could almost follow the direction of his thoughts as he watched the expressions play across Cross's face. Chris had shared with him that Jacqueline and Miranda, Cross's two daughters, were the center of his universe. He loved them more than life itself. It only took a small nudge for him to imagine losing them and knowing that Brunner had something to do with it. Even as Jason watched, he could see the hatred intensify.
Seizing the ripeness of the moment, Jason ceased his tabletop tracery and fixed Cross with an iron gaze. "I believe you when you say you don't know where Brunner is, but that's not what I'm here for. I know how much you hate him, and I can't say I blame you."
Cross seemed to realize what kind of snare Jason had set for him, and he fidgeted restlessly. He knew an unspoken question was being asked, and he was caught between the lies he'd already told and the realization that he might finally have the ability to stick it to Brunner.
There were long minutes of tense, expectant silence as Cross grappled with indecision. He finally surrendered. He cleared his throat and signaled to the waiter for another drink. "Better make it a scotch, double and straight up, Danny."
After Danny delivered the drink, Cross downed it in one great gulp.
He slammed the tumbler onto the table, took a deep breath, and dabbed perspiration from his brow before speaking. "You realize I'm about to stick my neck out?"
Jason nodded. "I understand why you would feel that way." He paused, thinking of a way to ease the man's mind. "But Chris and me... we're not the cops. Whatever you tell us stays with us."
Chris stared at Jeff Cross intently, his body rigid, every fiber tuned into what was about to be said. Jason couldn't begin to decipher how he was feeling, but he could read uneasiness on his features. He winked reassuringly as if to say don't worry, everything is going to be fine.
Cross swiped again at the perspiration he couldn't seem to control, and as Jason watched, he worked his index finger under the collar of his shirt and pulled it away from his neck. He cleared his throat, stared at the empty scotch glass, and finally, sensing that there was no escape, focused on Jason. "You think Brunner kidnapped the girl? Maybe needed to offload her?"
Jason didn't respond. He was doing his best to hold Cross's gaze, but he was torn between watching the man for duplicity and keeping an eye on Chris's reaction.
"I'd be willing to bet," Cross continued, toying with his glass, "you're looking for a woman named Hopkins." His face turned a deeper shade of red. "She runs an escort service in Vegas. Even though prostitution isn't completely illicit there, Hopkins has good reasons for not wanting anyone peeking under her skirts. She specializes in the hard-to-please cases---powerful men who get off on stuff that isn't exactly pretty."
Jason asked, "What does that mean?"
"Power, domination, danger. These men have everything money can buy, and they like to hurt, control... sometimes worse."
Jason was starting to get the picture. He'd heard of such a trade, and the thought sickened him. "She lets these girls die?"
"Not that she'd admit to. Wouldn't be easy to find merchandise if word got out, now would it? But she does have a tendency to... overlook it when her clients get carried away."
Jason could see the revulsion and horror on Chris's face. Living his quiet, law-abiding lifestyle, Chris apparently wasn't aware of some of the more contemptible acts of which men were capable. Jason had been hardened to it from his time in the FBI, but he could remember what it was like to be mortified to discover all the varieties of evil that existed outside of cheap horror flicks.
Having admitted to something he kept carefully concealed, Cross seemed to be feeling the pressure. Jason knew he would give up some secrets, but he had a limit. He could sense Cross was toeing the line in the shifty roaming of his