Divided in Death

by J. D. Robb

  “Guy like that, he’d want to take her there, to ball her, sure, but also to show her how important he was. Look, I’ve got this secret place. Nobody knows about it but you.”

  “And then things went wrong and he needed the place,” Peabody finished. “She had to die, just because she knew it was there.”

  “Lieutenant.” Roarke tapped the screen where he worked with McNab. “LeBiss Consultants. LeBiss is an anagram for Bissel.”

  “Yeah, he’d want his own name. Another ego thing.” She leaned over Roarke’s shoulder. “Where is it?”

  He gave a command and a diagram of the Flatiron came on screen, revolved, then magnified a highlighted sector. “One floor below his gallery. He’d have enough skill to be able to go between floors with minimal risk should he want to access his studio.”

  “Fully soundproofed, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “And privacy shades on the windows. Monitors. Add another level of security and he’d be able to know if anyone tried to get on the elevator or through the door. He could muck that up, the way Sparrow did on the night of the first murders. Then clear out before anybody got in.

  “Probably work at night,” she said half to herself. “Probably work mostly at night when the building’s shut down, offices closed, nobody’s going to bother him. Cops’ve already been through, and there’s nothing in there that applies to the investigation. Lease is paid up. So until the estate’s settled, he can use it without much risk of detection.”

  “He loved that studio.” Reva stepped forward, studying the diagram herself. “I’d bring up the possibility of him building one at home, and he wouldn’t consider it. I know it could’ve been because he wanted the freedom of being away, having accessibility to the women he was sleeping with, but I know, at the core, he just loved that place. Damn it, I’m slipping. I didn’t think to put it on the list you wanted of his habits and hangouts.”

  “Why would you? It was already on my list.”

  “Yeah, but this was his place, and if I’d had my head on straight, I’d have put it together. He always said he needed the stimulation, the energy of the city, of that spot, just as he needed the serenity and privacy of our house. One to charge him up, the other to relax him.”

  “We need to go in,” Eve said.

  “Dallas,” Reva added. “He wouldn’t just work at night, not if some piece had him. He wouldn’t be able to step away from it. I think, unless I’ve misjudged everything about him, that the risk wouldn’t factor into it. Or maybe it would, in some way, fuel the creative drive.”

  “Good. Good point. We need to assume he’s in there, just as we need to assume he’s armed and dangerous. The building’s full of civilians. We need to move them out.”

  Feeney, who’d continued to work on McCoy’s data unit throughout the briefing, finally glanced up. “You want to clear out a twenty-two-story building?”

  “Yeah. Without Bissel knowing it. Which means first we should verify he’s in there. Don’t want to clear it out while he’s around the corner picking up a sandwich at the deli. So let’s figure out how to verify, then how to clear out the civilians.”

  Feeney puffed out a breath. “She don’t ask for much. Side note: I’ve got some data out of this. Reads like a diary. Enough sex stuff with who she calls BB to make a seasoned LC blush.” He colored a bit himself when he glanced toward Reva. “Sorry.”

  “It’s not a problem. Not a problem,” she repeated in three viciously bitten off words. “He lied to me, screwed around on me, he tried to frame me for murder. Why should knowing some poor little twit romped around naked—”

  She paused, breathed deep when the room remained silent but for the machine. “Okay, I’m making it a problem by trying to prove it’s not. Let me put it this way.” She looked at Tokimoto now. Directly. “Love can die. It can be killed, no matter how alive it was, it’s not invulnerable. Mine’s dead. It’s dead and it’s buried. I just want one thing more, and that’s the chance to look him in the face and tell him he’s nothing. If I can do that one thing, it’ll be enough.”

  “I’ll make sure you have the chance,” Eve promised. “Now, how do we get him?”

  “A bomb scare would clear it, but there’d be injuries,” Peabody decided. “People panic, especially when you tell them not to. And even soundproofed, he’d get wind of it.”

  “Not if you go floor by floor.” Eve paced as she thought it through. “Not a bomb scare. An electrical problem? Something that irritates but doesn’t panic.”

  “A potential leak—hazardous waste, chemicals. And keep it vague,” Roarke suggested. “Floor-by-floor evac will take considerable time, and a great many cops.”

  “I don’t want to pull any more into this than necessary. A small, tight unit of the Crisis Team for backup. Move fast, keep it smooth, and we can evac in under an hour. We box him in, that’s what we do. We box him in.” She stopped, studied the diagram again. “Three exits on the studio?”

  “That’s correct. Main corridor, elevator to lobby, and the cargo elevator to the roof.”

  “No glides on the Flatiron, that’s a plus.”

  “And more aesthetically pleasing,” Roarke added.

  “We block off the elevators. We can bring in a unit from CT on the roof. And we come in from the corridor after he’s boxed. If we can get him in this end, the narrow end, he won’t have much room to maneuver. We work out the tacticals on this space, and we work out tacticals on the studio. And on the space below. He might be in there. But we need to know where he is when we go in, and we need to blindfold him to the fact we’re coming.”

  “We can do that.”

  She angled her head, looked down at Roarke. “Can we?”

  “Mmm.” He took her hand and, watching her horrified expression, brought it smoothly to his lips before she could jerk it free. “The lieutenant doesn’t like me to nibble on her when she’s coordinating an op. So I can never resist.”

  “There’s just too much sex around here,” Feeney grumbled from his station.

  “How can we verify his position inside the building and blindfold him?” Eve demanded with what she considered admirable patience.

  “Why don’t you work out your tacticals and leave those pesky details to me. Reva, how much time do you need to shut down the security and undermine the monitors in this sector of the building?”

  Brow creased, Reva fisted her hands on her hips. “I’ll let you know after I study the specs.”

  “You’ll have them in a minute. I’ll need a few things from Securecomp,” Roarke said to Tokimoto. “Would you mind getting them?”

  “Not at all.” His lips curved. “I think I know what you have in mind.”

  “Let’s leave the geeks to it, then.” Eve started out, turned back. “I meant the civilian geeks,” she said when Feeney and McNab stayed in place.

  It took her an hour to work out an approach that minimized risk to civilians and her team, and longer to push through the red tape for clearance to evacuate an entire building.

  “We know he’s got a short-range launcher. We don’t know what other toys he has in there. Boomers, chemical weapons, flash grenades. He won’t hesitate to use them to protect himself or to expedite an escape. He’s more dangerous because he’s not trained in weaponry. Guy who doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing with a few flash grenades will do more damage than one who does.”

  “We clear the building, we could pump some gas in the vents, put him to sleep,” McNab suggested.

  “We can’t be sure he doesn’t have filters or a mask. He likes the secret agent toys. Once we verify where he is, we box in that sector. We close off alternate exits, take down the door. We go in fast, and we get him under control. There’s nothing in his dossier that indicates any training or skill in hand-to-hand beyond the basics. That doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous.”

  “He’s going to panic.” Feeney pulled on his bottom lip. “First kills were incapacitated when he took them out. He drug
s the McCoy girl, does Powell while he’s zoned. Tried to hit Sparrow from a distance. This is face-to-face, so if he isn’t taken quick, he’s going to panic. More dangerous that way.”

  “Agreed. He’s an amateur who thinks he’s a pro. His life’s screwed. He’s pissed off and scared, with no place to go and nothing much to lose. Civilians are our first priority because he won’t think twice about taking any out, and we don’t know what kind of firepower he’s got in there. We remove the civilians, box him in. Take him out. And we want him breathing. He’s a key to the case against Sparrow. I don’t want to lose him.”

  “You’re going to end up fighting the spooks for him,” McNab said. “They’re going to want him.”

  “Exactly. I need Bissel to lock down the case on conspiracy to murder. I want to win this one. Feeney, I need you working with the geeks—with Ewing and Tokimoto,” she corrected. “However much Roarke trusts them, I want you at the helm on whatever electronics go into this op. Ewing’s tough, and she’s pulling her weight, but she might lose it in the crunch.”

  “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.”