J D Robb - Dallas 15 - Purity in Death

by Purity in Death(lit)

  "That's how I see it, yeah. Peachtree wants reform, and he can't get it through the polls. He found another way. He's a goddamn hero."

  She stored it, clamped down on another wave of disgust. "How do you select the targets?"

  "We put the names, the sheets, to the membership. We vote."

  "Who else is nominated?"

  "Only got one more infected. We decided to hold off until we worked out the glitches. Dru Geller. Runs private clubs, sells young meat to patrons. Runaways mostly, she scoops them up and pumps them full of Erotica. Her AP's scheduled within ten hours."

  "How do you know when it's achieved?"

  "That's mostly tech stuff. Not my area. But we can track usage on their infected unit or units. They ran sims so they know how long it takes to finalize."

  "When's the next meeting?"

  Dwier closed his eyes. 'Tonight, eight. The downtown church."

  "Where's Dukes?"

  He shook his head. "Safe house, Upstate. Albany. I'm supposed to help work out a relocation. He's still working on the program. Him and Burns and the other techs. They'll have it perfected in a few days. They're sure of it. Nobody anticipated that girl being in Greene's place. How the hell can you anticipate something like that? But it comes down to it, she wasn't any different than Greene. Got what she deserved, same as him. Just a little whore-"

  She bitch-slapped him. Her hand was up and swinging before she realized the fury had taken over, before he could see it in her eyes and evade. The sharp crack of flesh on flesh slashed through the club. A few people turned their heads, then quickly looked away again.

  Eve got to her feet. "Stay where you are. Peabody! You're going in. You can tell your story to the P.A. Price is being picked up right now."

  "Just a fucking minute."

  "Shut up, you pulsating piece of shit. You'll get your immunity. You're going in now, and staying in until the rest of your self-proclaimed heroes are picked up. There's a black-and-white outside, and a representative of the prosecutor's office. Thomas Dwier, you are now in custody. Surrender your shield and your weapon? Now," she said, laying a hand on his arm. "Or I'll take you down the way I want to instead of by the book you've shown such contempt for."

  "People know we were right." He laid his weapon on the table, tossed his badge down beside it. "There are four monsters off the streets thanks to us."

  She took his weapon, took his badge. Then hauled him to his feet. "There are all kinds of monsters, Dwier. You don't quite qualify. You're just a weasel. And an embarrassment to the job."

  ***

  When he was secured in the black-and-white, Eve got into her own vehicle. Then just laid her forehead on the wheel.

  "You all right, Dallas?"

  "No. No, I'm not all right." She yanked Dwier's badge and weapon from her pocket. "Seal these. I don't want my hands on them again. I got him immunity. I got him a ride. Maybe, maybe I pull him in, hammer at him in Interview, I get him to roll without the deal. But I made the deal, because maybe he doesn't roll, and I can't spare the time to find out."

  "The prosecutor wouldn't have dealt immunity if he didn't figure it was the way to go."

  "When you want the whole pie, sacrificing one little slice is a reasonable trade. That's how the P.A. figured it. That's how Dwier knew he'd figure it. I wish I could. Get me an address on a Dru Geller. She'll be in the system."

  She pulled out her communicator to run the next steps with the commander.

  ***

  It took an hour to set it up to her satisfaction. Precious time, but she wasn't losing another cop. Not today.

  "We can't be sure what kind of shape she's in," Eve reminded the crisis team she'd handpicked. "We will assume she is violent and armed. Three men on the door, three for the windows. We go in fast. We subdue, secure, and transport. The subject cannot be shocked with standard weapons, even on low setting. The probability is high that the infection has spread to the extent that this would result in termination. We use tranqs, and tranqs only."

  She gestured to the apartment blueprint on-screen. "You've familiarized yourselves with the setup. We know the subject is in this location. We don't know where she is within its perimeter, but the highest probability is for the main bedroom, here. Communications are to remain open throughout the op. When the subject is secured, she will be transferred, immediately, to the medical techs, accompanied by two team members during transpo to designated health center where a medical team is waiting."

  Maybe they'd save her, Eve thought as she approached the door to Dru Geller's apartment. And maybe they wouldn't. If Dwier's information was accurate, she had under eight hours left. Morris had called the infection irreversible after the initial spread.

  She was risking six cops, her aide, and herself over a woman who was in all likelihood already dead.

  She drew her tranq-shooter, nodded for the crisis team cop to uncode the locks. "Uncoding," she said quietly into her communicator. "Locks disengaged. Wait for my signal."

  She eased the door open. She caught a whiff of spoiled food, of stale urine. The lights were off, the sun shields tight at the windows. The room looked and smelled like a cave.

  She gestured, pointing Peabody and the second officer left. She went in fast, low, and right. "Living area clear."

  She heard it then, a kind of growling. The sound a rabid dog might make when cornered. "Moving to main bedroom. Hold at the windows."

  She took flank at the door, nodded again, then kicked it in.

  Dru Geller had her back to the wall. She wore nothing but panties. There was blood on her breasts, breasts scored from her own fingernails. Her nose had bled as well, and the red ran down over her snarling lips, stained her teeth, dripped off her chin.

  Eve saw it all in the space of a heartbeat and saw the long-bladed scissors in her hand.

  The scissor flew, like an arrow from a bow. Eve pivoted, deployed the tranq. It caught Geller in the left breast. "Now! Go! Hit her again," she ordered as Geller lunged forward.

  A second tranq hit her midbody, and still she leaped on Eve like a wildcat, all teeth and nails. She saw the red eyes wheeling, felt the blood drip on her face. Geller howled as a third tranq took her in the right shoulder.

  She shut off like a light, red eyes rolling back, limbs going limp.

  It took seconds, only seconds. There was a flurry of movement as Geller was rolled away, her unconscious body restrained.

  "Get her to the MTs, get her transported," Eve ordered. "Move."

  "We got an officer down."

  "What?" Wiping the blood from her face, Eve gained her feet, spun around.

  And saw Peabody lying on the floor, bleeding, the scissors jammed deep into her shoulder.

  "No. Goddamn it. No." She was on her knees in one fast move, and without thinking brushing her hand over Peabody's white face.

  "Zigged right, should've zagged left," Peabody managed. She turned her head, stared dully at the bright silver scissors. "It's not too bad, is it? Not too bad."

  "No, it's nothing. Get me a medical, now. Right now!" Eve stripped off her jacket, prepared to use it to staunch the flow of blood.

  "Pull them out, okay? Wouldja?" Peabody groped for Eve's hand. "It's making me pretty sick, having them sticking out of me."

  "Better not. MTs coming up right now. They'll fix you up."

  "They'd hit an inch over, the riot vest would've deflected them. What're the chances? Really hurts. Jesus, it really hurts. I'm cold. Just shock, right? Right, Dallas? I'm not dying or anything?"

  "You're not dying." She snagged the wrinkled bedspread from one of the crisis team. "I don't have time to waste training another aide."

  Eve turned her head as an MT rushed in. "Do something," she ordered.

  Ignoring her, he ran a scanner over the point of entry, took Peabody's vital signs. "Okay, Officer. What's your name?"

  "Peabody. I'm Peabody. Would you get these goddamn scissors out of me?"

  "Sure. I'm going to give you a little
something first."

  "Gimme lots. Dallas is the one who lives for pain."

  He smiled at her, set his pressure syringe.

  "She's losing blood," Eve snapped. "Are you just going to let her bleed out on the floor?"

  "Just keep the pressure on," he said mildly. "Too bad about that jacket. Looks like nice fabric. I'm going to pull out the invasive object. On three, Peabody, okay?"

  "One, two, three."

  The MT met Eve's eyes, and mouthed: Hold her down.

  Eve felt it in her gut, felt the sharp shock of the blades slicing out of Peabody's flesh. Felt it in the quick jerk of her aide's body against her restraining hands.

  Blood flowed over her fingers, warm and wet.

  Then she was nudged out of the way, while the MT worked on the wound.

  Twenty minutes later she was pacing the ER waiting room.She'd nearly decked the doctor who'd ordered her out of the treatment area. Had restrained herself only because she figured the medical had to be conscious to work on Peabody.

  McNab burst through the doors in a limping run, with Roarke right behind him.

  "Where is she? What are they doing for her? How bad is it?"

  "She's in treatment. They're patching her up. It's just like I told you, McNab. She's got a deep puncture in her shoulder, but it missed the major arteries. They don't think there's any muscle damage. They're going to clean it up, give her some blood and fluids, sew her up. Then they'll probably spring her."

  She saw him stare down at her hands. She hadn't taken time to wash the blood off. Cursing herself, she shoved them into her pockets.

  "Which treatment room?"

  "B. Around the corner to the left."

  He rushed off, and Eve scrubbed her hands over her face. "I can't stay in here," she muttered and hurried outside.

  "Is it more serious than you told McNab?" Roarke asked her.

  "I don't think so. The MT seemed solid. He said it was too serious to treat and release on-scene, but not major. She lost a lot of blood."

  She stared down at her hands.

  "You lost a bit yourself." He traced his fingers over her jaw where Geller's nails had swiped.

  "It's nothing. Goddamn it, it's nothing." She spun away from him, kicked the tire of an ambulance parked in the bay. "I took her in there."

  "Is she less a cop than you?"

  "That's not the point. That's not the fucking point." She whirled back. "I took her and six other cops in there. I made the call, I set the op. I dodged out of the way when Geller threw the scissors at me."

  Because her eyes were swimming, her voice beginning to hitch, he took her shoulders. "And Peabody didn't move as quickly. Is that your fault?"

  "It's not about fault. It's about reason. I took her in, took all of them in to secure and transport to medical a woman who's probably going to die anyway. I ordered those people to put their lives on the line for her. A woman who sells little girls. Boy, that's irony for you. I've got Peabody's blood on my hands because of a woman who sells children for sex."

  She gripped his shirt, fisted her hands. "For what?" she demanded. "What's the damn point?"

  "Lieutenant."

  She jerked at McNab's voice, turned quickly.

  He'd never seen her cry before. Hadn't known she could. "She's awake. You were right, they're going to spring her. They want to keep her about an hour first. She's still a little groggy. She asked if you were around."

  "I'll go in and see her."

  "Dallas." McNab moved into her path, took her by the arm. "If you ask her what the point is, she'd tell you. You haven't asked me, but I'll tell you anyway. Because when something has to be done, we're the ones who're supposed to do it. I didn't have to be there to know you went through the door first. So you already know what the point is."

  "Maybe I needed somebody to remind me."

  Roarke watched her walk back inside. "You're a good man, Ian." He laid a hand on McNab's shoulders. "Let's go buy Peabody some flowers."

  "I usually just steal them."

  "Let's make an exception for this one."

  Chapter 21

  Whitney took Eve's report orally, in his office. She was in her shirtsleeves, and the shirt carried a small stain of dried blood.

  "Has Peabody been released from the health center?"

  "They were preparing to sign her out when I left. She'll need to take a couple days' medical leave."

  "See that she has what she needs. Dwier and Price are in custody, and will be held incommunicado until the situation is resolved. We have the location in Albany under surveillance. When you've cleaned up here, Donald Dukes will be taken. We agree that he shouldn't be arrested until after your raid on tonight's meeting?"

  "Yes, sir. Dwier and Price were just soldiers. Dukes is one of the generals." The commandant, Eve remembered. "It's probable he remains in contact with other key members of the organization. We let him sit until we've broken its back. Sir, as Dwier has further implicated Mayor Peachtree, I request permission for formal questioning."

  "The mayor has agreed to temporary house arrest. His incoming and outgoing transmissions are being monitored. Under advice of counsel he's admitted to the sexual... transgression, but continues to deny any association with Purity. Politically, he's finished."

  "Politically," Eve began.

  "Yes. That's not enough. I won't disagree. However, this evening's op takes priority over questioning him. We'll bag most if not all the other members in this sweep, essentially destroying this organization. That's the first order of business."

  "When the mayor's office is a front for terrorists, that's an important piece of business, Commander."

  "And will it make a difference to closing this case if you question him now, or wait until tomorrow?"

  She wanted to take him now. She wanted to taste him in her throat. "It could if he gives up additional information."

  "I can promise you that with his fleet of attorneys, you'll be in for a long, tough haul getting more than his name. You don't have the time to spare today. He's on ice, Dallas. He's done. Be satisfied with that for a few hours longer. I give you my word that as of ten a.m. tomorrow, he belongs to you."

  "Yes, sir. Thank you."

  "You've done superior work on this despite a number of difficult obstacles." He hesitated, studying her face. "I'd like to speak to something Chief Tibble said this morning. You deserve the bars, Dallas."

  "They don't matter."

  "Fuck it. This is between you and me, here in this room. You deserve to wear the bars. You've earned them. If it was only a matter of merit, you would wear them. Regrettably it's not only a matter of merit. Your age is a consideration. What are you, Dallas, thirty?"

  "Thirty-one, sir."

  He let out a half-laugh. "I've got shirts older than you. I have to hide them from my wife, but I've got them. Still this is a consideration that could be resolved, even used to advantage, in some circumstances."

  "Commander Whitney. I'm aware that my personal life is a factor in this matter. That my marriage to Roarke, who is regarded in some quarters, certainly some within the department, with suspicion-unless he's being useful-is and will be more a detriment to my moving up in rank than the mayor using an illegal sex broker and doing the mambo in women's clothes would be to his future political standing. Chief Tibble was correct. It was my choice."

  "I hope you're equally aware that your marriage isn't regarded as a detriment in this office."

  "I am."

  "Nor, for that matter, by the chief. If it were up to me, you'd have your bars."

  "It used to matter to me. It doesn't seem so important anymore. I'd never be able to play the game with the same passion I can put into the job."

  "You'll find out differently." His chair creaked when he leaned back. "It's a few years down the road yet, as things stand. But you will find out differently. Go home, clean up. Gear up. Then go take these bastards down."

  Eve decided to follow orders exactly. The minute she got home sh
e headed for the shower. She only wished she could wash away frustration and anger as easily as blood and sweat.

  Bracing her hands on the tiles, she lowered her head so the jets of water could beat down over her, drumming out the little aches.

  She didn't think. For twenty minutes under the spray she allowed herself to blank. Calmer, she stepped into the drying tube, let the hot air whirl and blow around her. She hitched on a towel, stepped back into the bedroom.

  And saw Roarke.