The In Death Collection, Books 11-15

by J. D. Robb

  “Meeting’s under way,” McNab reported through her earpiece. “Judge Lincoln’s presiding. They’re reading fucking minutes from the last meeting.”

  “Let’s give them a couple minutes,” Eve ordered. “Get more on record. The more we have, the deeper we put them under.”

  “Lieutenant?” Trueheart whispered, as if already in church. “I want to thank you for allowing me to be a part of this op.”

  “You’re going to suck up,” Baxter told him. “You suck up to me now. I suck up to Dallas. That’s the food chain.”

  “Opening to new business,” McNab reported. “Discussion on Greene termination. Wade termination called unfortunate systemic by-product. Jesus. Single objection from membership.”

  “Sir?” Peabody’s voice came through. “Word just came in. Geller didn’t make it.”

  Eight dead, Eve thought. It ends now. “This meeting’s over.”

  “Locked and loaded,” Baxter said.

  “All units, go. Go.”

  She went in the door first, and down a set of old iron stairs. In her mind she pictured other units coming in the front, the side, streaming across the main floor.

  Weapon drawn, badge held up, she swung through the doorway into the basement room.

  “NYPSD! Nobody moves.”

  There were some screams, some shouts. A few people scrambled, either for cover or escape. Secondary units poured in like ants at a picnic. Ants armed with laser rifles and twin-barreled stunners.

  “Put your hands up. Hands up,” Eve shouted, “or you will be stunned. This building is surrounded. There is no way out. You are under arrest for terrorist acts, for conspiracy to commit murder, for the murder of a police officer, and other charges that will be made known to you.”

  She moved forward, sweeping faces, movements. Some wept now, and others stood rigid in fury. Still more knelt, hands clasped like martyrs about to be fed to the pagan lions.

  “On the floor,” she ordered. “On your faces. Hands behind your heads.”

  She swung hard as she saw Judge Lincoln reach inside his jacket. “Do it,” she said softly. “Give me a reason.”

  His hand dropped. He had a hard face, dark stone with features sharply carved. She had sat in his courtroom, given testimony there. Had trusted him to feed justice.

  She took the weapon from under his jacket, patted him down.

  “We’re the solution,” he told her. “We’re courageous enough to act while others sit and wait.”

  “I bet Hitler said the same thing. On the floor.” She pushed him to his knees. “On your face, hands behind you.”

  She clapped the restraints on him herself. “This is for Colleen Halloway,” she said softly in his ear. “She knows more about courage than you ever will. You’re a goddamn disgrace.”

  She got to her feet. “Baxter, read this bunch of heroes their rights.”

  It was two-thirty when she made it home. But it wasn’t fatigue that dogged her now but a weariness so internal it dragged at both body and mind.

  She felt none of the rush of victory, the pumping energy from seeing a job through. When she closed the door at her back, she couldn’t find it in her to toss an insult at the waiting Summerset.

  “Despite the lateness of the hour, am I to expect your houseguests will arrive with their usual desire for refreshments?”

  “No. They’ve got homes of their own, and they’re using them.”

  “You were successful?”

  “They scored eight before I stopped them. I guess that would depend on your definition of successful.”

  “Lieutenant.”

  Her mind was too shadowed for more than mild irritation. She stopped on the second step, looked back. “What do you want?”

  “During the Urban Wars there were a number of civilian-driven organizations. Some risked their own lives to try to protect neighborhoods under siege or to rebuild those that had been decimated. There were many acts of heroism. And there were other groups who were also organized. They sought only to destroy, to punish, to wage other levels of warfare. Some formed their own courts, held trials. Oddly, all of those trials ended with a verdict of guilty, and were swiftly followed by execution.

  “Each,” he said, “had considerable success with their separate agendas. History is, however, enlightened by one and tainted by the other.”

  “I’m not looking to make history.”

  “That’s a pity,” he said as she continued up the stairs. “Because you’ve done so tonight.”

  She went by the lab first, but there was only Jamie. He was obviously out of work mode and into recreation. There was a graphic of Yankee Stadium on his monitor. He was playing against Baltimore, and the O’s were up two runs in the bottom of the sixth.

  “Shit, you blind?” He slapped the unit as the ump called a strike on his batter. “That was high and outside, asshole.”

  “It caught the corner,” Eve disagreed. “Nipped the strike zone. Good pitch.”

  “Like hell.” He paused his game, swiveled around. “Wanna take me on? It’s better with two reals instead of playing against the comp.”

  “I’ll trounce all over you some other time. Hit the sheets.”

  “Hey, hey, wait!” He scrambled up. “Aren’t you going to tell me how it went down?”

  “It went down.”

  “Well, I know. We got the call on it. But no deets. Spill some deets, Dallas.”

  “Tomorrow. We’ll have a full briefing.”

  “One deet. You give me one, then I got one for you.”

  “We confiscated discs containing records of every meeting. We’ve got them sewn up so tight they can’t hack their way out of the sack with a broadsword. Give.”

  “Okay, frig-o. We got some track.”

  “You found the source?”

  “Nothing to it once we cloned. Virus was sent out from the unit confiscated from Dukes’s lower level work area. He sent them staggered over a three-day period. He pushed the button on every one of them.”

  “They brought him in from Albany tonight. He’s lawyered up. I’ll take him apart tomorrow. Go to bed, kid.”

  “Got to smash the O’s first.”

  She shrugged. “Whatever.” She walked to the door, paused. “Jamie. I was against Roarke bringing you onto the team. I was wrong. You did a stand-up job.”

  His face brightened like a sun. “Thanks.”

  She left him to battle the Birds, and went to Roarke’s office. He, too, was at his unit, but she doubted he was playing. Whatever his business was, he shut it down when she came in.

  “Congratulations, Lieutenant. Where’s your team?”

  “They were heading to some after-hours place to wind down with a couple of drinks. I passed.”

  “Then you can have one here with me.” He rose to top off his brandy and pour her a glass of wine. “We have your source.”

  “Yeah, Jamie told me. I stopped by the lab on my way.”

  “He’s still up?”

  “Yankees and O’s, bottom of the sixth. He’s two down, with two out and a runner on first.”

  “Ah, well then.” He gave her the wine. “Did he tell you we also found a number of transmissions? To and from Price and Dwier. And three, so far, from Mayor Peachtree’s office ’link. The last coming in the afternoon of your visit to the Dukes house. Text only. It advises Dukes to take a little holiday with his family, and gives a suggestion for the address in Albany. It’s carefully worded, but under the circumstances, damning enough.”

  “I take Dukes and the mayor tomorrow.” She sat on the arm of a chair, but didn’t drink the wine. “I split up the interviews after the bust. Gave a push at suspects with various team members and combos. Everybody yelled lawyer, like it was their team cheer. I broke some pathetic housewife in under thirty minutes. Spilled her guts while her lawyer’s huffing and puffing about duress. Pleaded her down a couple levels to shut him up, and she rolled over like a puppy.”

  “You stopped them. You shattered the
m.”

  “I took in a judge, two other cops—a retired cop who’d put thirty years in. I took in mothers who were almost as panicked about notifying their child care provider as they were about spending the night in a cage. I took in a boy barely old enough to shave, and a woman who won’t see a hundred again. She spit on me.” Her voice quavered just a bit on that. “She spit on me when we were putting her in the wagon.”

  Roarke stroked a hand over her hair, and when she turned her head, cradled her face against his side. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too,” she murmured. “I just don’t know what I’m sorry about. I’ve got to go to bed.” She eased away, stood. “I’ll look over the data you and Jamie extracted in the morning.”

  “I’ll be along when I can. I have a meeting shortly.”

  “A meeting? It’s almost three in the morning.”

  “It’s in Tokyo. We’ll do a holoconference.”

  She nodded, then set the untouched wine aside. “Were you supposed to be there? In Tokyo?”

  “I can be where I want. And I want to be here.”

  “I’ve cut into a lot of your time just lately.”

  He rubbed a thumb over the shadows under her eyes. “You certainly have, and I expect to be properly recompensed.” He touched his lips to her forehead. “Now go to bed. I’ve work here.”

  “I could come into midtown sometime, and . . . consult.”

  “I’d like to know what I’ve done to deserve a threat like that.”

  It helped to smile. “Or, you know, go shopping with you. Help you pick out a suit or something.”

  “I felt that chill right down to the bone. Go away, Lieutenant.”

  “Okay. See you later.”

  “Mmm.” And as his holo unit signaled, he watched her go.

  Chapter 22

  She woke before dawn, and gauged the time by the quality of the dark. She calculated an hour before daybreak, and thought about trying to zone out again for the best part of that.

  She’d slept like a woman in a coma, falling facedown on the bed after stripping down to the skin. She hadn’t heard Roarke come to bed. But at least she hadn’t dreamed.

  She shifted to her side and made out the shape of him. It wasn’t often she woke before he did. Because of it she rarely had the opportunity to lay in the dark, in the silence of the house and listen to him sleep.

  He slept like a cat, she thought. No, quieter than a cat. The light rumble of snoring she heard was from the other side of the bed where Galahad lay sprawled on his back like roadkill.

  It was kind of nice, she decided, with everyone all tucked up safe and warm.

  Too nice to waste the best part of the hour she had left for bed sleeping.

  She crawled on top of Roarke, found his mouth just where she’d left it. And woke him with heat.

  She felt his body throw off sleep. A fingersnap. Brace, assess, relax again.

  “Work late?” she asked against his mouth.

  “Mmm.”

  “Sleeping in?”

  “Not anymore.”

  She laughed and scraped her teeth over his jaw. “Just lie back. I’ll do the work.”

  “If you insist.”

  She was warm and naked and still soft from the night. In the dark before light she moved over him like a dream, all scent and touch and shadow. Her lips and fingers stroked over him, stirring needs that were never quite still.

  Her hands cupped his face. Her mouth sank to his.

  She sighed into him. He heard something wistful in the sound, and as she lay over him, he traced his hands up and down her back, that long, lean line, as much for comfort as seduction.

  His cop, he thought. So troubled. So torn. But here, they were safe and sure. Here, they were right.

  He knew, she realized, and turned her face into his throat. He always knew. And the gift of having someone who did, who could, was overwhelming.

  “I love you. Roarke. I love you.” Her mouth met his again, hotter now, with the first taste of urgency. “I love you. For all the times I forget to say it.”

  The kiss slid back to sweetness. Her heart beat thick, beat steady against his.

  In a long, slow movement, he rolled her to her back. He laid his lips on her collarbone as their legs tangled, as hers parted. He could see her now, the shape of her face, the gleam of her eyes. He slid into her, a satin glide of flesh to flesh. A quick and quiet catch of breath.

  Again long, again slow, and deep, with her body rising toward his, with his falling toward hers. She shuddered, and groped for his hands. Their fingers linked; their mouths met.

  Overhead, dawn broke.

  It was still shy of seven when she studied the data Roarke and Jamie had accessed the night before. She frowned over it, chewed over it. Considered.

  “Dukes goes down, all the way down. He has to know it. Essentially, he was the button man. Even without a confession, I’m handing the prosecutor a case he’d have to be a baboon to lose.”

  “Then why do you look annoyed?”

  “I just wonder if this guy knows he was the goat. All along. Whatever, whoever goes down, he takes the heaviest fall. He’s the name the media will trumpet, the image of the effigies burned once the crowd turns. If he hadn’t figured it out, I might be able to use that to convince him to point the finger at anyone I don’t have in the box.”

  “And they will turn,” Roarke agree.

  “Yeah they will.” She frowned. “Politics,” she said softly. “Hell of a game.”

  She glanced over at Roarke. “I’m going to check out a couple things, then head in to start picking him apart. I want a good chunk of time with him before I pass him to Feeney and move onto Peachtree.”

  “You’re doing Peachtree at Central?”

  “His house. His involvement remains Code Five until he’s formally charged.”

  “I want to observe the interviews.” He looked over from where he sat on the bedroom sofa, monitoring the stock reports on the mini-unit and the morning media report on the wall screen.

  “What’s the point?”

  “The point is closure. I gave way on the bust last night. I want this.”

  “What’s the matter with you, Ace? You’re sprung. Job done, game over. You can spike the ball. You can go back to work and buy . . . Alaska or something.”

  “I’ve as much acreage and interest in Alaska as I need for the moment. But if your heart’s set on a glacier just send me a memo. You can arrange it, Lieutenant. It’s a reasonable enough request.”

  “For Dukes, yeah, but Peachtree—”

  “He’s had my support, financially. You’re not the only one who’s pissed-off by this situation. I want to be there for the end of it.”

  “Okay. Okay, I’ll work it out. But I’m leaving in ten, so you’ll have to—”

  “Hold on a minute.” His gaze narrowed on the wall screen as Nadine Furst came on with a flash bulletin.

  “This just in. Forty-three people suspected of being part of the group known as The Purity Seekers were taken into custody last night at the Church of The Savior on Franklin Street. This NYPSD operation was headed by Lieutenant Eve Dallas. Police sources identify some of the suspects arrested as Judge Lincoln, a criminal court judge in this city, Michael and Hester Stanski . . .”

  “Where did she get the names!” Eve exploded and barely resisted punching a fist at the screen. “We’re not releasing names yet.”

  “Listen to the rest,” Roarke told her. “This can’t be it. There’s no point in this kind of leak.”

  “Donald Dukes,” Nadine continued, “a former marine sergeant and a computer scientist, was arrested at a private home in Albany and has been taken into custody. Several charges have been brought against Dukes, including conspiracy to commit murder, in regard to the Purity killings over the past week.”

  There was a slight pause, then Nadine continued. “But the most disturbing development in the Purity matter is the allegations levied against Mayor Steven Peachtree. Official
sources confirm that the Mayor of New York is a prime suspect in the crimes attributed to The Purity Seekers and will be formally questioned this morning. Evidence linking Mayor Peachtree to Purity includes a video of alleged sexual misconduct, which was recovered from the residence of Nick Greene during the investigation of Greene’s death. It is suspected that the video was used as part of a blackmail scheme. The mayor could not be reached for comment, nor has his office issued a statement regarding the allegations.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Even as Eve swore, her communicator beeped, as did the bedside ’link, her pocket ’link. She imagined the communication centers in her office, here and at Central, were lit up like Christmas.

  “You’re in the media storm now, Lieutenant,” Roarke told her. “You’re going to have to ride it.”

  Ignoring the ’links, she yanked out her communicator.

  “Lieutenant” was all Whitney had to say.

  “Yes, sir. I saw it. I don’t know where she got it, but I’ll find out what I can.”

  “Fast. Peachtree’s lawyers are already out for blood.”

  “Leak or no leak, Commander, I’m making an arrest today. And it’ll stick.”

  “No media statements,” he ordered. “Neither confirm nor deny until I clear it. Take Dukes first, and break him, Dallas. I’ll let you know when and where for Peachtree.”

  “Don’t answer the ’links,” she told Roarke as she jammed the communicator back in her pocket. “Tell Summerset to screen all transmissions, and to keep Jamie here and under wraps. I don’t want him talking to anyone about anything. Not even his mother.”

  “You think the boy leaked this? Eve—”

  “No, he didn’t leak it. He’s too good a cop already. I know where the leak came from.” She snagged a jacket. “This may not be my game, but I know how to play it when I have to. I know how to win it. If you’re with me,” she added. “You’ve got five minutes.”

  She let him drive and spent the entire time on the ’link, covering the situation with her team, coordinating them and arranging for extra bodies at Central to hold back the media who would certainly be swarming into a pack outside the doors.