The in Death Collection Books 11-15 - J. D. Robb [218]
Eve nodded. “Detective McNab and Officer Peabody, along with Lieutenant Marks and myself, will move in on the subject, using this entrance. All movements will be transmitted to Base One, and to each team leader. Any questions?”
She waited, again watching faces. These were hard men and hard women. They knew their job.
“Go down to your units and suit up. We’ll begin the op as soon as the warrant comes through.”
And what the hell was taking it so long? she wondered as the room emptied. She’d called in the data and request nearly two hours before. She’d need to tag the judge again, give him a goose.
Then she looked at Feeney. He outranked her, and had considerably more tact. It was likely the judge would respond to him more quickly.
“Feeney, they’re dicking with this warrant. Want to see what you can do to expedite?”
“Politics.” He might have grumbled, but he walked to her desk ’link to make the call. While he worked, she moved over to Roarke.
“We appreciate your help with the security cams and the layout. This should go off fast and smooth.”
Should, he thought, was a disturbing word. “As owner of the building, I can insist on accompanying you to the penthouse.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it. Keep it up, and I’ll change my mind about letting you hang with Feeney at Base One. I know how to apprehend a suspect, Roarke, so don’t distract me.”
“Where’s your body armor?”
“Peabody’s got it. It’s hot and it’s heavy, so I’m not suiting up until I have to.” She glanced back, her brow creasing as she heard Feeney’s squawk. “Something’s up,” she muttered, and had just started across the room when Commander Whitney walked in.
“Lieutenant. Your operation is aborted.”
“Aborted? What the hell is this? We’ve got his hole. We can have him in custody within the hour.”
Feeney was on his feet now, cursing at the ’link. “Goddamn double cross. Fucking political double fucking cross.”
“That’s right.” Whitney’s voice was clipped and cold, but his dark eyes burned with fury. “That’s exactly right.” His own outrage and frustration were why he was there in person instead of informing Eve of the abort order over communications. “The feds got wind of the operation.”
“I don’t care if they got wind of the Second Coming,” Eve began, then with a vicious effort yanked herself back. “This operation is a result of my investigation, Commander, of data I accessed. The suspect killed two people on my turf. I’m primary.”
“Do you think I didn’t argue those very points, Lieutenant? I’ve just spent the last half hour exchanging insults with Assistant Director Sooner, FBI, bitching to two judges, and threatening anyone I could tag. The Feebs managed to get your warrant delayed and slip one of their own through ahead of it. When I find out who leaked your request to them, I’ll happily kick someone’s ass. But the fact is we’re out, they’re in.”
Eve’s hands were fisted at her sides. Deliberately, she relaxed them. Later, she promised herself. Later, she’d beat the hell out of something. “They didn’t pull this off by sticking with chain of command or going through channels. When this is over, I want to file an official protest.”
“Get in line,” Whitney told her. “Politics is a dirty business, Dallas, but it’s my turf. Believe me, I’ll deal with this. Agents Jacoby and Stowe might think this bust will make their careers. They’re in for a hell of a surprise.”
“Respectfully, sir, I don’t give a rat’s red ass about Jacoby and Stowe. As long as they bring Yost in. I want to interview him on the French and Talbot homicides. I want to talk to him before the feds make him any deals.”
“I’m already working on that. I have some powerful connections, and Chief Tibble has