The in Death Collection Books 11-15 - J. D. Robb [401]
Chapter 19
The last question was asked and answered, and the troops dispersed. Surveillance and placement in the park would begin at eleven hundred hours.
“The entire op will be recorded. Every man will be wired, audio and video. We’ll have all the angles.” Still she paced her office, searching for any holes in her plan.
“You’ll have him in hand in a matter of hours,” Roarke told her.
“Yeah, I’ll have him.” She stopped, peered out the window. It was a beautiful day, full of flowers and warmth and white puffy clouds. Springtime in New York. Come out and play.
The park would be full of people. That’s what he wanted, she thought. He liked crowds. They added to the thrill, the risk, the satisfaction.
Kill in plain sight.
“I’ll have him,” she repeated. “But I want it quick and clean. Carrying the illegals isn’t enough. Mixing it with a drink isn’t enough. But once he hands it to me, he’s done.”
She turned, looked at the board. Looked at the faces.
“Finch make any transmissions I should know about?”
“None whatsoever.”
“Good. I thought she was smart enough to be scared.”
The others, she wondered, had they been frightened? Had there been a moment, one instant when they’d understood enough to have the fear leaping into their throats, clawing toward a scream?
“You saved her, Eve. But for you, her face would be on that board.”
“It doesn’t feel like enough.” Peabody had said that, Eve remembered, right at the beginning. “I have a lot of questions for Kevin Morano.”
“It’s unlikely the answers will satisfy you.”
“Having them is sometimes the only satisfaction you get.” And she’d have to make it enough. “I don’t want you taking a weapon,” she said as she turned to Roarke.
“A weapon?” he asked innocently. “Why, Lieutenant, an expert consultant, civilian, isn’t issued a weapon.”
“Issued, my ass. You’ve got a fucking arsenal in your museum upstairs. Leave them there.”
“Of course. I give you my word I won’t take anything out of my fully registered and legal collection.”
“Roarke—I’m warning you . . .”
“It sounds like your other consultants are on their way.” Giggles bounced into the room. “Be sure to remind them about the weapon policy.”
“You want me to have you searched before the op?”
“Only if you do it, darling.” His voice was oh-so-warm, and very Irish. “I’m shy.”
Her pithy response was drowned out as Mavis and company piled into the room.
“Hey, Dallas, you missed the party.”
“So I hear.”
“We were supposed to have a practice session,” Trina reminded her.
“I was, you know, unavoidably detained.” She had to order herself to stand her ground when Trina came up to stare at her face. “What?”
“You look crappy.”
“Thanks. That’s just the look I was going for.”
“When this is over, you’re in for a full treatment, including relaxation therapy.”
“Actually,” Eve said, “I’m going out of town right after—”
“You can go wherever the hell you like after the treatment. How am I supposed to use you to drum up new clients when you go around looking like you spent a week in a cave? You trying to ruin my reputation?”
“Yes. Actually that’s been my central goal since we met.”
“Funny. Let’s get started.”
“I’ll just leave you to it,” Roarke said.
“Where are you going?” Eve made a grab for him, much like a drowning man would grab at a dangling rope.
He evaded her hand. “I have work.” And he turned his back on the love of his life, deserting her without a backward glance.
“Now, you’re mine.” Trina smiled with lips dyed a summer grass green. “Strip.”
“Leonardo’s whipping up an outfit for you,” Mavis said sometime later. “He said you don’t have anything in your wardrobe that suits this look.”
“It just gets better and better.” Eve kept reminding herself that she’d vowed to protect and serve whatever the cost. Even if that was ninety minutes of allowing a crazy woman to smooth, pack, and tuck God knew what all over her face and body.
“Coming