Divided in Death

Chapter 22

As the techs outnumbered the nontechs on her team, Eve took the briefing to the lab.

She didn’t understand the nature of the work, or the purposes of the tools meticulously arranged on work counters and workstations. She couldn’t decipher the patterns of the color-coded boards, the gibberish scrolling by on screens or the constant hum and clack that was the odd communication in the network of machines.

But she knew what she was looking at was a great number of man-hours and a large dose of brainpower.

“You’ll kill the worm.”

“We will, yes. It’s already failing.” Roarke glanced at the lines of code and commands on one of the screens. “It’s a clever bug that can look more dangerous than it is.”

“You can say that makes it plenty dangerous.”

“You could,” he agreed. “Its limitations don’t negate the fact that it can and would play hell with most home units. We’re tracking it back to Sparrow, and its origin.”

“Tokimoto’s largely responsible for that,” Reva put in.

“I’m hardly working alone. And,” Tokimoto added, “wouldn’t have researched or explored that possibility of origin without the data supplied to me.”

“Which is what Sparrow counted on. He creates the worm, then assigns Bissel to play double agent. Our side believes Doomsday has the worm, they believe our side has it. Both sides, due to his planted intel, believe the worm is more powerful than it actually is, and shell out a lot of money. Bissel funnels the money, or most of it, back to Sparrow through Kade.”

“A good con,” Roarke commented. “And might’ve been a tidy one in the short haul. He’d have been wiser to keep it on a smaller scale, induce a couple of corporations to haggle over it rather than involving the HSO and the like.”

“Ambitious guy. And greedy,” Eve added. “He supplies the data on the progress Securecomp’s making on the worm, and in that way can cover himself any time the direction the R and D’s taking gets too close. Good setup for him.”

“But his thinking was narrow.” Roarke watched the codes whiz by, noted the progress. “He believed he could control it all, without getting his own hands bloody, and keep Bissel on a leash until he was of no more use.”

“Coward.” Eve remembered how he’d wept and wailed in the hospital. “Bissel’s getting blackmailed and wants more. Kade wants more. And Securecomp’s getting close to ending his nice, profitable enterprise.”

“He gives Bissel a new assignment that solves all those problems.” Peabody shook her head. “It’s way over the top, and Bissel’s too dim to see the frame going up. Sorry,” she said to Reva.

“No problem.”

“Not just too dim,” Eve added. “Too egocentric. He’s living his fantasy. He’s got his license to kill.”

“Sir!” Peabody beamed. “You’ve been boning up on Bond.”

“I do my homework. But now he’s in hip-deep. He can’t go to the HSO. He can’t go to the other side. He waited too long to run, so his accounts have been located and frozen. He killed to stay dead, but that cover’s been blown. He took a hit at Sparrow, but he missed. Instead of being dead, Sparrow’s in custody, and he’ll use whatever juice he can to cut a deal and bury Bissel. He’s lost his fantasy job, and all the glory and polish he garnered from his art.”

“If you can call that crap art.” Reva grinned when everyone looked at her. “Hey, Blair isn’t the only one who can fake it. I never liked his stuff.” She rolled her shoulders as if shedding weight. “Feels good to be able to say that. It’s starting to feel good all around.”

“Don’t get too happy yet,” Eve warned. “He needs to make a statement, but first he needs to lick his wounds, to reassert himself and find some satisfaction. Reva, you said his art was his genuine passion.”

“Yeah. I don’t see how that could’ve been faked. He’s worked for years, studied, pursued. He’d sweat days over a piece, hardly sleep or eat when he was in full mode. I might not have liked the shit he turned out, but he put heart and soul into it-his black, withered and rotting heart and soul. I’m going to be bitter for a while,” she continued, “and take as many cheap shots at him as humanly possible.” She grinned again. “Just FYI.”

“I think it’s healthy,” Tokimoto said. “And human.”

“So his art, such as it is, is the real deal to him. They can take away his fantasy job, but he’s still an artist.” Eve nodded. “He can still create. He has to create. McNab, do a tenant search, look for any connection to Bissel. Target the Flatiron.”

“Of course,” Roarke murmured. “I can help you with that, Ian,” he said to McNab, but he continued to look at Eve. “He’d want to be close to his work, to where he’d felt powerful, and in charge. If he had another place in the building, it’s possible Chloe McCoy knew of it.”

“Guy like that, he’d want to take her there, to ball her, sure, but also to show her how important he was. Look, I’ve got this secret place. Nobody knows about it but you.”

“And then things went wrong and he needed the place,” Peabody finished. “She had to die, just because she knew it was there.”

“Lieutenant.” Roarke tapped the screen where he worked with McNab. “LeBiss Consultants. LeBiss is an anagram for Bissel.”

“Yeah, he’d want his own name. Another ego thing.” She leaned over Roarke’s shoulder. “Where is it?”

He gave a command and a diagram of the Flatiron came on screen, revolved, then magnified a highlighted sector. “One floor below his gallery. He’d have enough skill to be able to go between floors with minimal risk should he want to access his studio.”

“Fully soundproofed, right?”

“Of course.”

“And privacy shades on the windows. Monitors. Add another level of security and he’d be able to know if anyone tried to get on the elevator or through the door. He could muck that up, the way Sparrow did on the night of the first murders. Then clear out before anybody got in.”

“Probably work at night,” she said half to herself. “Probably work mostly at night when the building’s shut down, offices closed, nobody’s going to bother him. Cops’ve already been through, and there’s nothing in there that applies to the investigation. Lease is paid up. So until the estate’s settled, he can use it without much risk of detection.”

“He loved that studio.” Reva stepped forward, studying the diagram herself. “I’d bring up the possibility of him building one at home, and he wouldn’t consider it. I know it could’ve been because he wanted the freedom of being away, having accessibility to the women he was sleeping with, but I know, at the core, he just loved that place. Damn it, I’m slipping. I didn’t think to put it on the list you wanted of his habits and hangouts.”

“Why would you? It was already on my list.”

“Yeah, but this was his place, and if I’d had my head on straight, I’d have put it together. He always said he needed the stimulation, the energy of the city, of that spot, just as he needed the serenity and privacy of our house. One to charge him up, the other to relax him.”

“We need to go in,” Eve said.

“Dallas,” Reva added. “He wouldn’t just work at night, not if some piece had him. He wouldn’t be able to step away from it. I think, unless I’ve misjudged everything about him, that the risk wouldn’t factor into it. Or maybe it would, in some way, fuel the creative drive.”

“Good. Good point. We need to assume he’s in there, just as we need to assume he’s armed and dangerous. The building’s full of civilians. We need to move them out.”

Feeney, who’d continued to work on McCoy’s data unit throughout the briefing, finally glanced up. “You want to clear out a twenty-two-story building?”

“Yeah. Without Bissel knowing it. Which means first we should verify he’s in there. Don’t want to clear it out while he’s around the corner picking up a sandwich at the deli. So let’s figure out how to verify, then how to clear out the civilians.”

Feeney puffed out a breath. “She don’t ask for much. Side note: I’ve got some data out of this. Reads like a diary. Enough sex stuff with who she calls BB to make a seasoned LC blush.” He colored a bit himself when he glanced toward Reva. “Sorry.”

“It’s not a problem. Not a problem,” she repeated in three viciously bitten off words. “He lied to me, screwed around on me, he tried to frame me for murder. Why should knowing some poor little twit romped around naked-”

She paused, breathed deep when the room remained silent but for the machine. “Okay, I’m making it a problem by trying to prove it’s not. Let me put it this way.” She looked at Tokimoto now. Directly. “Love can die. It can be killed, no matter how alive it was, it’s not invulnerable. Mine’s dead. It’s dead and it’s buried. I just want one thing more, and that’s the chance to look him in the face and tell him he’s nothing. If I can do that one thing, it’ll be enough.”

“I’ll make sure you have the chance,” Eve promised. “Now, how do we get him?”

“A bomb scare would clear it, but there’d be injuries,” Peabody decided. “People panic, especially when you tell them not to. And even soundproofed, he’d get wind of it.”

“Not if you go floor by floor.” Eve paced as she thought it through. “Not a bomb scare. An electrical problem? Something that irritates but doesn’t panic.”

“A potential leak-hazardous waste, chemicals. And keep it vague,” Roarke suggested. “Floor-by-floor evac will take considerable time, and a great many cops.”

“I don’t want to pull any more into this than necessary. A small, tight unit of the Crisis Team for backup. Move fast, keep it smooth, and we can evac in under an hour. We box him in, that’s what we do. We box him in.” She stopped, studied the diagram again. “Three exits on the studio?”

“That’s correct. Main corridor, elevator to lobby, and the cargo elevator to the roof.”

“No glides on the Flatiron, that’s a plus.”

“And more aesthetically pleasing,” Roarke added.

“We block off the elevators. We can bring in a unit from CT on the roof. And we come in from the corridor after he’s boxed. If we can get him in this end, the narrow end, he won’t have much room to maneuver. We work out the tacticals on this space, and we work out tacticals on the studio. And on the space below. He might be in there. But we need to know where he is when we go in, and we need to blindfold him to the fact we’re coming.”

“We can do that.”

She angled her head, looked down at Roarke. “Can we?”

“Mmm.” He took her hand and, watching her horrified expression, brought it smoothly to his lips before she could jerk it free. “The lieutenant doesn’t like me to nibble on her when she’s coordinating an op. So I can never resist.”

“There’s just too much sex around here,” Feeney grumbled from his station.

“How can we verify his position inside the building and blindfold him?” Eve demanded with what she considered admirable patience.

“Why don’t you work out your tacticals and leave those pesky details to me. Reva, how much time do you need to shut down the security and undermine the monitors in this sector of the building?”

Brow creased, Reva fisted her hands on her hips. “I’ll let you know after I study the specs.”

“You’ll have them in a minute. I’ll need a few things from Securecomp,” Roarke said to Tokimoto. “Would you mind getting them?”

“Not at all.” His lips curved. “I think I know what you have in mind.”

“Let’s leave the geeks to it, then.” Eve started out, turned back. “I meant the civilian geeks,” she said when Feeney and McNab stayed in place.

It took her an hour to work out an approach that minimized risk to civilians and her team, and longer to push through the red tape for clearance to evacuate an entire building.

“We know he’s got a short-range launcher. We don’t know what other toys he has in there. Boomers, chemical weapons, flash grenades. He won’t hesitate to use them to protect himself or to expedite an escape. He’s more dangerous because he’s not trained in weaponry. Guy who doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing with a few flash grenades will do more damage than one who does.”

“We clear the building, we could pump some gas in the vents, put him to sleep,” McNab suggested.

“We can’t be sure he doesn’t have filters or a mask. He likes the secret agent toys. Once we verify where he is, we box in that sector. We close off alternate exits, take down the door. We go in fast, and we get him under control. There’s nothing in his dossier that indicates any training or skill in hand-to-hand beyond the basics. That doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous.”

“He’s going to panic.” Feeney pulled on his bottom lip. “First kills were incapacitated when he took them out. He drugs the McCoy girl, does Powell while he’s zoned. Tried to hit Sparrow from a distance. This is face-to-face, so if he isn’t taken quick, he’s going to panic. More dangerous that way.”

“Agreed. He’s an amateur who thinks he’s a pro. His life’s screwed. He’s pissed off and scared, with no place to go and nothing much to lose. Civilians are our first priority because he won’t think twice about taking any out, and we don’t know what kind of firepower he’s got in there. We remove the civilians, box him in. Take him out. And we want him breathing. He’s a key to the case against Sparrow. I don’t want to lose him.”

“You’re going to end up fighting the spooks for him,” McNab said. “They’re going to want him.”

“Exactly. I need Bissel to lock down the case on conspiracy to murder. I want to win this one. Feeney, I need you working with the geeks-with Ewing and Tokimoto,” she corrected. “However much Roarke trusts them, I want you at the helm on whatever electronics go into this op. Ewing’s tough, and she’s pulling her weight, but she might lose it in the crunch.”

“She’s held up better than most, but I’m with you on that.” Feeney dug out his bag of almonds. “This is going to shake her some. I’ll stay on top of it.”

“The Crisis Team is backup, backup only. I don’t want them cowboying this. Four of us go in, two teams of two. McNab and Peabody, I don’t want you guys thinking of each other as anything but cops. No personal feelings go through the door. If you can’t deal, tell me now.”

“It’s a little hard for me to think of McNab as a cop when he’s wearing a shirt the color of a persimmon.” Peabody sent him an arched look. “But otherwise, no problem.”

“We’ll do the job,” McNab assured her. “And this shirt matches my underwear.”

“That’s something we all needed to know. If we all agree to keep our minds off McNab’s underwear, let’s get started.”

“You said four of us,” Peabody pointed out.

“Roarke goes in. McNab can handle any electronics Bissel may have on site, but he’s not trained in weaponry. Not the kind we may have to handle. Roarke knows his war toys. And he knows how to go through a door. Any objections to that?”

“Not from me.” McNab shrugged. “I’ve seen his weapon collection. It’s beyond.”

“Then let’s put both ends of this team back together and close this down. Feeney, I just need a word with you.”

She waited until they were alone, and shook her head when he held the bag of almonds in her direction. “The… data we discussed before, the personal data that had come into my hands. I wanted to let you know it’s not going to be a problem. No action will be taken.”

“Okay.”

“I put you in a bad spot by telling you about the data, and my concerns. I shouldn’t have done that.”

He folded the top of the bag, put it back in his pocket. “We go back too far for you to say that to me. Because we do, and I know where it’s coming from, I’m not going to be pissed at you for saying it.”

“Thanks. My head’s been pretty screwed up.”

“On straight now?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let’s load up the rockets and get the sucker launched.”

“I’ve got one more thing to do, then I’ll be right behind you.” She went to her desk when he walked out, turned on her ‘link.

“Nadine Furst.”

“Dallas. It looks like I’m going to be able to clear my schedule in a couple hours. Three anyway. Since we missed that lunch, why don’t we get together today. Just you and me.”

“Sounds like fun. Where should I meet you?”

“I’ve got some business to take care of. Why don’t you meet me at Fifth Avenue, between Twenty-second and Twenty-third. Around two. My treat.”

“Perfect. Looking forward to seeing you.”

Eve disconnected, satisfied Nadine had understood the offer of a one-on-one. And that she’d be giving the top media hound in the city a story that would send the HSO scrambling for cover.

She joined the others in the lab as Roarke demonstrated equipment for Feeney.

She frowned at the screen, and the colors moving on it. “I assume this is not a new vid game.”

“Sensor. Configured to body heat. You’re looking at Summerset puttering around in the kitchen downstairs. You input the coordinates of the location you want to scan, and the nature of the object you want to track. It’ll read through solid objects like walls, doors, glass, and so on. Steel. Flatiron’s a steel skeleton. The distance it will work depends on basic interference. Other objects with similar makeup will, of course, interfere. But once you’ve homed in on your target, you can lock and follow.”

“What’s this?” She tapped the screen where a red-and-orange blob circled. “Is that-”

“The cat.” Roarke grinned at her. “Hoping for a handout, I’d say. Got ears, Tokimoto?”

“Nearly. Another moment.”

“We’re locked on,” Roarke explained. “Interface the audio sensor, and find the right combination of filters, and we should be able to pick up sound.”

“Two floors down? Without direct linking or satellite bounce?”

“We’re utilizing satellite. With equipment we’ve got in the lab, we’d be able to see and count Galahad’s whiskers. But with this portable ‘link, we’ll make do with body heat image.” Roarke glanced up. “It should be enough for your purposes.”

“Yeah. It’ll work just fine.” She pursed her lips when she heard what might have been violins coming from the equipment, then the unmistakable sound of Galahad’s most persuasive meows.

“This,” McNab said with an avaricious sigh, “kicks solid ass.”

“How about his security and monitors?” Eve asked.

“I can shut them down by remote. We can bypass his building audio so he won’t hear the evacuation orders. We can have this equipment set up, on site, in twenty minutes, have him scanned and locked within thirty.”

“We start boxing and locking him first, then evacuate. We’ll need to clear out a space on the floor below his for base. Keep that quick and quiet, then set up this equipment there. Feeney?”

“On that.”

“Peabody, break out the body armor for the takedown team. Load up. Roarke, with me.”

“Always,” he said and followed her out.

She said nothing until they were back in her office. She checked her weapon, her clutch piece, then opened a drawer in her workstation and took out a stunner. “You’ll need this. I want you to go in with me.”

He turned the weapon over in his hand. He had more powerful and certainly more efficient weapons of his own. But it was, he decided, the thought that counted. “You’re not going to make me ask.”

“No. You’ve earned it. I want you going through the door with me. More than that, I don’t know what he’s got in there. When we go in, I need you to focus on the weaponry. Leave him to me. Leave him to me, Roarke.”

“Understood, Lieutenant.”

“There’s something else. I’ve given Nadine a head’s-up. When this is over, if you wanted to say something to the media about how Bissel and Sparrow screwed over an employee and attempted to steal data from Securecomp, to sabotage a Code Red and so on, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings.”

“You’re feeding them to the dogs.” His lips twitched as he skimmed a finger down the dent in her chin. “Why, Lieutenant. You excite me.”

“I figure they’ll be cleaning up the blood and bones for some time. And a lot of the blood and bones are going to be scattered throughout HSO. There’s all kinds of payback, Roarke.”

“Yes.” He slipped the weapon into his pocket so he could take her face in his hands, lay his lips on her brow. “There is. If this satisfies you, it’ll do me as well.”

“Then let’s go kick some righteous ass.”

It made it stickier, and just a little nerve-racking, to have Commander Whitney and Chief Tibble step into the operation as observers. She did her best to ignore them as she coordinated her personnel.

“Both protocol and courtesy demand that the HSO be informed if and when we verify the location of Blair Bissel,” Tibble commented.

“I’m not immediately concerned with protocol or courtesy, sir, but with the locating, restraining, and capture of a multiple-murder suspect. It’s entirely possible that other members of the HSO were involved in or privy to the plans and actions that involved three operatives. Informing the organization at this time of this operation may, in fact, compromise same if Bissel has some contact in-house.”

“You don’t believe he does, not for a minute. But it’s good,” Tibble said with a nod. “Logical, and you can be sure I’ll use that angle when the shit falls. You miss Bissel here, or fail to wrap him up tight, some of that shit will fall on you.”

“He’ll be wrapped.” She turned back to the monitors, marking the time. Waiting.

They were in a suite of offices one floor below LeBiss Consultants. The occupants had been swept out, and she only needed Roarke’s confirmation that the security in LeBiss and the penthouse level had been shut down to start the next stage.

“They’ll want to take him, Lieutenant,” Tibble added. “Move both him and Sparrow into federal territory.”

“Bet they will,” she started. “As long as they both face the murder and conspiracy to murder charges, I don’t care who locks the cage.”

“They’ll want it quiet. This sort of screw-up within their own ranks won’t play well with the public.”

Yeah, she thought, definitely stickier. “Are you ordering me to sweep this under the rug, Chief Tibble?”

“I’m giving no such order, Lieutenant. But I will point out that public statements regarding certain details of this case would be politically unwise.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” She looked over as Roarke walked in.

“Done,” he said. “Your man’s blind and deaf. The elevator to the studio is disabled.”

“Acknowledged.” She picked up her communicator. “Dallas. I want those stairways blocked and manned. Do not, I repeat, do not move in on either target location. Begin evac.”

She gestured to the monitor. “Find him.”

“I’d like to scan and locate,” Reva said. “I’d like to man the controls on that.”

“That’s Feeney’s call.”

Feeney gave Reva a little pat on the shoulder and had to fight off the itch to run the program himself. “Go.”

She input the designated coordinates for LeBiss, configured for body heat imaging, then did a slow scan. “Nothing there.” Her voice shook a bit, but she cleared her throat and changed the coordinates for the penthouse.

When she saw the mass of red-and-orange light, she simply stared. “Target confirmed,” she said as Eve stepped forward. “He’s alone. Coordinates put him in the studio sector.”

“What’s this?” Eve demanded, circling a line of blue.

“Fire. Flame. Intense heat. He’s working.”

“He’s armed,” Roarke put in. “See here, this space, the angle and position on the body. “Side-arms, would be my guess.”

“Okay. Suit up.” She grabbed her own body armor.

“Bringing up audio. He’s got music on. Trash rock,” Reva said after a moment. “He’s excited, buzzed up,” she added. “He listens to that when he’s revving. He’s got a lot of metal in there. Equipment, works-in-progress. It’s going to be tricky to tell if any of what I’m getting is weaponry.”

“We assume he has it. Keep him locked.” Eve fit on her headset. “I want to know where he is and what he’s doing at all times. I want to know the instant the building’s clear. Let’s move into position.”

“Go.” Feeney spoke into his communicator. “Unit Six, this is base. Friendlies moving into your sector. I repeat, friendlies moving through.”

“They’ll give us the picture,” Eve began as they started toward the stairwell. “Weapons on stun. Dallas on the door,” she said into her headset, then opened the door to the stairwell.

The two-man crisis unit stood ready. “All quiet,” she was told.

“We stun him. I don’t want him drawing a weapon. Nobody gets hurt on this op. We put him down, restrain, and move him out clean.”

“I can get behind that,” McNab muttered.

A full frontal, she thought, all four through the same door, was too risky if he was armed.

“You and Peabody on the gallery door. Roarke will open the door between the sections by remote on my command. We’ll go in the studio door. Take him in a pincer. Move on my signal.”

She moved through the stairwell door, signaled McNab and Peabody to position on the other side of the corridor.

She could hear the progress of the evacuation through her headset. It was slow, but it was moving. She rolled her shoulders.

“Jesus, I hate these vests. Can they make them any more uncomfortable?”

“In another age, Lieutenant, you’d have been my knight in shining armor. And that protection you’d have hated a great deal more.”

“Could’ve taken him, probably could’ve taken him without the evac. Could wait, stake him out. He’s got to sleep sometimes. But…”

“Your instincts told you to move people out of harm’s way and take him now.”

She removed her headset, gestured at his. “If it’ll help you to be the one to take him down, I’ll hold back.”

He skimmed a fingertip along her jaw-line. “Soft on me, aren’t you?”

“Pretty much.”

“Same goes. And no, don’t hold back. It doesn’t matter who.”

“Okay, then.” She put her headset back in place. Then rolled on her toes a few minutes later when the all-clear came through.

“Peabody, on the door. Roarke, get them into the gallery.”

He keyed in on his remote. “Done.”

“Move in. Stay ready.” She took her position by the studio door, nodded to Roarke. “Go!”

She broke through the door, went in low with Roarke high beside her. An instant later, the door between sections opened and Peabody and McNab charged through.

Bissel stood by one of his sculptures, wearing a safety helmet and goggles, light body armor. And two hand blasters in a cross-body harness. He held a torch that spurted a thin line of flame.

“Police! Put your hands in the air. Do it now!”

“It’s not going to matter. Not going to matter.” He swept the torch toward Peabody and McNab, and jerked back as he was stunned.

“Not going to matter.” He tossed down the torch and flame bounced along the reflective surface of the floor. “I rigged this. Are you hearing me!” he shouted. “I’ve got a bomb. If you come at me, I’ll blow it. I’ll blow up half this building and everyone in it. You put down those weapons and listen to me.”

“I’m all ears, Blair.” She heard the order go out for Bombs and Explosives through her earpiece. “Where’s the bomb?”

“Put down your weapons.”

“I’m not going to do that.” She watched out of the corner of her eye as Roarke shifted, then crouched to retrieve the torch and turn it off. “You want me to listen, I’ll listen. Where’s the bomb? You could be bullshitting me. You want me to listen, you’ve got to tell me where it is.”

“This. The whole damn thing.” He slapped his hand on the twisting column of metal. His face was sheened with sweat. From the work, she imagined, and from excitement. And panic.

“There’s enough in here to blow this place, hundreds of people, to hell and back again.”

“You’d go with them.”

“You listen.” He shoved back his helmet and she saw his eyes. Zeus, she thought. He was riding on it. Between that and the body armor, he’d take a few stuns before he went down.

“I said I was listening. What do you have to say?”

“I’m not going to jail. I’m not going in a cage. Sparrow, Quinn Sparrow’s the one who set this up, who set me up. I’m not going in a cage. I’m an HSO operative, on assignment. I don’t answer to the NYPSD.”

“We can talk about that.” She kept her voice even, the tone interested. “You can tell me about your assignment, unless you blow yourself up first.”

“We’re not going to talk. You’re going to listen. I want transportation. I want a jet copter, and pilot, on the roof. I want ten million in non-traceable currency. When I’m clear I’ll send you the deactivation code. Otherwise…”

He held up his left hand and displayed the remote trigger strapped to his palm. “I use this. I’m HSO!” he shouted. “Do you think I won’t use this?”

“I don’t doubt you’ll use it, Agent Bissel. But I have to verify the explosive exists. Unless I can confirm the threat and tell my superiors, they’re not going to listen. I need to verify, so you can stay in control.”

“It’s there. And one twitch-”

“You know procedure and protocol. We’re professionals. I’ve got to answer to my superiors. Let’s confirm, then we can move on to your demands and negotiate.”

“It’s inside, you stupid bitch. I put it inside. You’d stayed out of this, I’d’ve had it drop-kicked to fucking HSO Base for screwing with me.”

“We’ll scan it. No point in anybody getting hurt. We’ve got Sparrow. He’s enough for me. He’s the one who got you into this mess. I’ve just got to confirm, so we can start the process.”

“Scan it, then. You’ll see. I want that jet copter. I want you to pull back, pull the hell back. I want transportation to a location of my choice.”

Roarke held up both hands. “Let me just get out my scanner, configure it for reading an explosive device. You know I own part of this building. I don’t want it damaged.”

Bissel shifted his gaze from Eve’s face to Roarke’s. Wet his lips. “Make one move, just one I don’t like, it goes.”

Roarke reached in his pocket, held out the scanner for Bissel’s approval.

“You’ve been dipping in Zeus, Agent Bissel,” Eve said to bring his attention back to her. “It’s not good for you. It can cloud your thinking.”

“You think I don’t know what I’m doing?” Sweat was running down his face, pooling at the base of his throat. “You think I don’t have the balls?”

“No. You couldn’t do what you do, be what you are if you didn’t have balls. Sparrow hadn’t screwed you up, you’d be fat city.”

“The son of a bitch.”

“He thought you were his dog, that he could keep you on a leash.” She didn’t look at Roarke, but sensed him at her side. “But you showed him what you were made of. I think all you wanted to do was get away after your assignment was complete. To get what was owed to you and get away, and things kept going wrong. You know, I bet Chloe would’ve gone with you. You didn’t have to kill her.”

“She was an idiot! A decent roll, but she’d irritate the hell out of you out of bed. I used her data unit to store information, to formulate plans. I know how to make my own plans. Contingencies. And what do you think I saw when I peeked in through the listening device I planted in the bedroom? She was trying to get into it, trying to break my passcode. Probably thought I was screwing around on her. Stupid, jealous little bitch.”

“What about the locket you gave her?”

He looked blank, then his jittery eyes smiled. “Passkey, drop box. Think I don’t know how to cover myself? I had drop boxes all over the damn place. Emergency funds, weapons, whatever I needed. Can’t put everything in one spot. Gotta spread out.”

“And she knew about this place. She knew, and she had that incriminating data buried on her unit, and one of your passkeys. I guess I was wrong. You did have to kill her.”

“Damn straight. It should’ve worked. It should’ve. I even got her to write the note. Just write it down for me, baby. One line, just one to say how you felt when you thought I was dead. And she was stupid enough to do it.”

“It was a good plan. So was Powell. It was just bad luck.”

“Explosive device confirmed,” Roarke said coolly. “My, my, Bissel, you certainly put all your eggs into one very volatile basket. If you discharge that, they wouldn’t be able to sweep up the pieces.”

“I told you. Didn’t I tell you? Now get me that copter. Get it now!”

“If you discharged it,” Roarke continued. “But you won’t, as I’ve just deactivated the timer. You’re clear, Lieutenant.”

“Thanks.” She aimed for Bissel’s unprotected legs. He staggered, roared, and his eyes went wild as he closed his hand into a fist to try to set off the explosive.

She hit him a second time when he reached for the side-arms, and Peabody came in from the side, bowling in mid-body to send them both flying across the now-scarred floor.

Pumping on Zeus, he backhanded her, but she held on.

McNab leaped, diving in to catch Bissel in a headlock, and, using his fist instead of his weapon, rammed three short, hard punches to the face.

Her nose was streaming blood, but Peabody grabbed her restraints. Between the two of them, they held him down and cuffed his wrists.

“Get his ankles, too,” Eve suggested, and tossed over her own restraints. “He’s still pretty hopped. This is Dallas,” she said into her headset. “Suspect is secured. Send in Bombs and Explosives to remove device.”

When Peabody panted and sat hard on Bissel’s still-bucking back, McNab offered her a polka-dotted handkerchief. “Here you go, baby. Your nose is bleeding. I mean, Detective Baby,” he added with a glance at Eve.

“Doing okay, Peabody?” Eve asked her.

“Yeah. It’s not broken.” She held the colorful cloth to her nose. “We got him, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah, we got him. Arrange to have the prisoner transported to Central. Good job, Detective Baby. You, too, McNab.”

“You held back,” Roarke said when Eve stepped out of the way to let the bomb squad deal with the sculpture. “So McNab could punch him a few times for Peabody.”

“I think Peabody might have handled it on her own, but he deserved a shot. Got a good, solid right for such a skinny guy.”

She checked her wrist unit. It looked as if she was going to be right on time for Nadine.

Screw political wisdom.

“I’m going to have to go in, do the paperwork, warm up Bissel in Interview. Going to take some time. Maybe you could fill in Reva and Tokimoto, make sure they know their assistance and cooperation have been noted and appreciated. Let Reva know I’m going to clear it so she gets five private minutes with Bissel. And maybe you could tell Caro she did a good job raising her kid.”

“You could tell her that yourself.”

“Guess I could. Meanwhile”-she jerked a thumb so he’d step with her into the relative quiet of the gallery-”you’ve been putting in a lot of time and energy as regards this investigation. Personal interest or not, that’s also noted and appreciated.”

“Thank you.”

“I guess it’s going to take you some time to get your own stuff back in order. All that universal magnate and corporate god stuff.”

“A few days. A week or so, we’ll be on balance again. I’m going to have to be out of town for a bit. Some of it needs to be hands-on.”

“Okay. But you figure you’ll be back in order in about a week?”

“More or less, why?”

“Because when you’re all set, I’m going to take you away for a long weekend. So you can relax.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Are you?”

“Yeah. You’ve been revving on all engines. You need a break. So we’ll say… a week from Friday. Where do you want to go?”

“Where do I want to go? And you’re doing this because I need a break?”

She glanced through the doorway, just to make sure nobody was paying any attention. Then cupped his face in her hands. “You do. Then there’s the fact that I intend to make you my sex slave for a couple days. So where do you want to go?”

“We haven’t been to the island in a while.” He didn’t bother to check if anyone was watching, but leaned down and kissed her. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

“No. I’ll make the arrangements. I can do it,” she said when he didn’t quite hide the wince. “I can. Jesus, I can coordinate a major op, I should be able to coordinate some damn travel. Have a little faith.”

“In you I have more than a little.”

“Then I’ll see you later. I’ve got to go let the dogs out.”

She headed out, then walked back and gave him a hard, short kiss. “Later, Civilian Baby.”

She heard him laugh as she walked out, skirted around other cops. And when she was alone, riding down alone, she tapped her finger-the one that wore her wedding ring-against the image of the badge on her heart.