"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 screwup 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. "Sidearms, 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 jawline. "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!"
