Seduction in Death (25 page)

"Good enough."

She'd gone past anger into weeping, humiliating herself. Everything hurt -- head, body, pride. When the syringe pressed against her arm, she barely felt it.

"Shh, baby. Shh." Shaken, Roarke stroked her hair and rocked her. "It's all over now. Don't cry."

"Go away," she said even as she clung to him. "Just go away."

"Leave me alone with her." Summerset touched Roarke's shoulder, felt a pang when he saw the naked emotion on his face. "Give us a few minutes."

"All right." Roarke held her tight another minute. "I'll be in the gym."

When he set her aside, she curled into a ball. Summerset sat beside her, saying nothing until she'd sniffled herself into silence.

"What he feels for you overwhelms him," Summerset began. "There was never anyone else. The women who came and went before you were diversions, temporary interests. He might care, because despite everything that was done to him, he's a man with a large capacity for caring. And still, there was no one before you. Don't you see how he worries?"

She uncurled herself, rubbed her hands over her wet face as if she could rub away the embarrassment of the tears. "He shouldn't worry."

"He does and he will. You need rest, Lieutenant, and a few days without work and worry. And so does he. So very much does he. He won't take his without you."

"I can't. Not now."

"Won't."

She closed her eyes. "Go up to my office, look at the faces of the dead pinned to my board. Then tell me to step away."

"He wouldn't, would he? But to do what you need to do, you require your strength, energies, and wit." He leaned over, picked up the glass. "Finish it."

She frowned at the glass. She hated to admit whatever he'd given her was already working. So she wouldn't. "It's probably poison."

"Poison," he said, amused. "Why didn't I think of that? Perhaps next time."

"Har-har." She took the glass, downed the remaining contents. "There must be a way to make this taste less like sewage."

"Certainly." He set the glass back on the tray, then got to his feet. "But I'm entitled to my small pleasures. I might suggest you try some moderate exercise now."

She didn't have time, but she took it anyway and went down to the gym. He wasn't using the machines, he rarely did, but was steadily, sweatily, working his way through bench presses. He had the screen on, with the audio set to spew out the various stock reports.

She found she didn't understand the words any more than she did the symbols.

She went to him, knelt by his head. "I'm sorry."

He continued to lift, set, lower. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah. Roarke, I'm sorry. I was an idiot. Don't be mad at me. I don't think I could handle it right now."

"I'm not mad at you." He lifted the bar into the safety, then slid out from under. "The situation occasionally rips my throat out."

"I can't do anything else. I can't be anything else."

He reached down for his towel, rubbed it over his face. "I wouldn't want you to do or be anything else. It's beyond my capabilities not to react as I do when you run yourself into the ground."

"You usually drag me back out before the ground closes over my head."

He looked at her face. Still so pale, he thought. Nearly transparent. "Doesn't seem I was quite quick enough this time."

"Let's go to Mexico."

"Excuse me?"

"The house in Mexico." She figured if she could surprise him, she was still in reasonable shape. "It's been a while. Why don't we take a long weekend once this is over?"

Considering her, he drew the towel between his hands, then hooked it behind her head to bring her closer. "Who's dragging who back out now?"

"Let's drag each other. Give me time to close this down, and you do whatever it is you do to clear a few days. Then we'll run away. We'll lie on the beach, we'll get drunk and have monkey sex. We'll watch film discs until our eyes fall out."

"Go back to the monkey sex."

She laid her hands on his cheeks. "I've got to get ready for the briefing. We've got a deal, right?"

"Yes." He pressed his lips to her forehead, relieved to find it cool again. "We definitely have a deal."

She got up, but when she reached the door, turned back to look at him. He still sat on the bench, lean and sweaty in a black muscle shirt. He'd tied his hair back and had yet to bother with shoes.

And he watched her through eyes so brilliantly blue, it seemed she could dive through them, and into him.

"There was never anybody before you," she said. "I just wanted to say that. And when I did what I do, and it opened a crack in me like it did last night, there was nobody there to hold on to me. I didn't want anyone to hold on to me. Until you. And I got through and I got by, and it was okay. But I think, maybe, if I'd just kept getting through and getting by, I'd have come to a point where I couldn't do it anymore. And if I couldn't do it anymore, it'd be the end of me, Roarke."

She took a steadying breath. "So when you hold on to me, you're helping me stand up, one more time. And the dead, you're standing for them, too. I just wanted to say that."

She went out quickly, and left him staring after her.

When she strode into her office at six minutes after six, she was heavy-eyed, pale, but clear-headed. She found McNab and Peabody had already raided the AutoChef. And Feeney, just arrived, was helping himself to the spread set out across her desk.

"What the hell do you think this is, the Breakfast Barn?"

"Gotta have fuel." Feeney munched into a strip of bacon. "Mother Mary, it's pig meat. Know how long it's been since I had a slice of real pig?"

She nipped it out of his fingers, ate it herself. "Then get a damn plate. You can eat while I bring you up to speed. Peabody, it appears there's no cup of coffee in my hand. I can only assume I've somehow stepped into an alternate universe."

Peabody swallowed a heaping forkful of ham and eggs. "Maybe in this one I'm the lieutenant, and you're..." She hopped up, propelled by Eve's frightening look. "Let me get you a cup of coffee, Lieutenant. Sir."

"You do that. The rest of the team are due here by oh eight hundred. I've already got the diagram of the target area on-screen, with computer-generated selections for personnel placement. We'll consider those and adjust if warranted. Feeney, I'd suggest you take McNab into the surveillance vehicle."

"I'd prefer a spot in the park, sir, and a chance to be in on the takedown."

Eve angled her head at McNab and copped another slice of bacon from the plate Feeney had just fixed. "You should have thought of that before you picked a fight and got your pretty face all banged up. Which will only draw attention to you in a place where children play and birds sing merrily in the trees."

"Gotcha there," Feeney said to McNab. "You're with me."

"You'll want another e-man as point," Eve continued. "You know your men better than I do, so I leave it to you."

"Good, because I've already picked him. Roarke," he said, and wagged a finger at the doorway as the man in question strode in.

"Good morning." He was still in black, and though the shirt and trousers were elegant, he managed to look every bit as lean and dangerous as he had in the muscle shirt. "Sorry. Am I late?"

"You think you're sneaky, don't you?"

He snatched the bacon Eve had snatched out of her hand. "Not at all, Lieutenant. I know I am. Which is why I'm very suited for this op."

"You want in, it's up to him." She jerked a thumb at Feeney. "But remember, this is my op."

He bit into the bacon, handed it back to her. "How could I forget?"

By eight-thirty, the full team was briefed. She began assigning roles and positions.

"Hey, hey." Detective Baxter waved a hand. "How come I have to be a sidewalk sleeper?"

"Because you make such a good one," Eve told him. "And you look so sexy with a beggar's license around your neck."

"Trueheart ought to be the sleeper," Baxter insisted. "He's the rookie."

"I don't mind, Lieutenant."

Eve glanced at Trueheart. "You're too young, too wholesome. Baxter's got some miles on him. Peabody, you and Roarke will do the couple's stroll through this area." Eve used her laser pointer to highlight the diagram on-screen. Trueheart, you're park maintenance staff, and you'll cover this sector."

"I've got the best gig," Peabody told McNab.

"Nobody approaches the suspect," Eve continued. "That time of the afternoon, spring day, the park's going to have a lot of traffic. People taking their lunch in the open air, kids running around. The park's open daily to botany clubs, bird-watching clubs, school field trips. The area the suspect selected is fairly secluded, but there will be civilians. Weapons are not to be drawn without extreme need. I don't want to see little Johnny stunned off the swing set because somebody got jumpy."

She sat on the edge of her desk. "You'll also be on the lookout for the second suspect. We have no way of knowing if they work in tandem during their setup stage. If you spot him, if you think you've spotted him, you relay that data to Feeney. You do not, repeat, do not, move on him. If he shows, he's to be kept under surveillance."

She scanned the room. "To lock this cage tight, I have to wait for this asshole to spike the drink and offer it to me. When that occurs, we take him -- possibly both of them -- quick, quiet, clean. Questions?"

CHAPTER NINETEEN

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 along." With her green skinsuit covered with a bright pink smock, Trina smoothed at the face putty she'd used to redefine Eve's chin. "How you holding up?"

"Boobs feel funny. Heavy."

"That's because you have some now. I know a guy who can do that permanent for you -- at cost."

"I'll keep my own, thanks just the same."

"Up to you. Hold still. This needs a minute to set."

"Why is it taking so long? I can't believe those assholes spent hours a day prepping for these dates."

"Probably not. Change your appearance that way in under an hour if you know what you're doing. But we're not just changing yours. We're replicating as close as we can somebody else's image." Trina snapped the kiwi-scented gum she was chewing. "It's lots trickier."

"It's really working, too." In a smock of dizzying neon swirls of blue and yellow. Mavis stood in as first assistant. "The whole shape of your face is different, Dallas. You've lost the chin dent, the edge of your cheekbones. You look softer. Wanna see?"

"No. Not till it's done. How much longer? I've got to get in the field."

"Final inning's coming up. I've gotta blend this color, do the surface enhancements." Trina rubbed a bit of color into the back of Eve's hand, pursed her lips, studied the computer image of Stefanie Finch. "What do you think?" she asked Mavis.

"Need to pink it up just a little."

"Yeah." She added a dab to a testing bowl, blended. "Yeah, yeah, this is it. I'm a fucking genius. Mav, better call Leonardo and tell him to hustle it with the outfit. I need to know how much of her to cover with this."

"As little as possible." Eve begged.

"Relax your face. I'm going to start there. This is a nice face," she added as she went to work. "Pretty and all. Yours is actually the more interesting of the two, though."

"Golly, Trina, I'm all atingle."

"If you took basic care of it, it would last you another fifty-sixty years without serious sculpting. 'Cause you got good bones."

Across the room, Mavis was cooing into the house 'link. It seemed to Eve she and Leonardo couldn't have a conversation with each other without cooing.

"White skinsuit, red swish," Mavis announced. "Elbow sleeves, scooped neck to mid-boobs. He'll have it down in five."

"What the hell's a swish?" Eve wanted to know.

"No talking till I finish the lip area. Very sexy," Trina said to Mavis. "Good choice with this coloring. Can you do the extremities?"

"Frigid! I just love playing with the goop. I have to take your wedding ring, Dallas. I'll give it to Roarke."

Instinctively, Eve curled her fingers in protest, a gesture that made Mavis's romantic heart sigh. "Don't worry." She gave Eve's hand a part. "I remember when he put this on you the first time. Almost a year ago. It was the best wedding."

Eve relaxed again, listened to Mavis's chatter with half an ear.

She knew Leonardo came in by Mavis's purr of greeting. Then there was cooing and kissy sounds.

"Wonderful job, Trina." His rich voice sounded very close to Eve's head, which told her he'd bent down to study the work. "I wouldn't have recognized her. Did you decide on the silitrex or the plastisinal base?"

"Silitrex. More pliable, and she doesn't need it to last that long."

Eve opened one eye when a finger poked at her cheek. And saw Leonardo's wide, golden face looming in front of hers. "Am I done yet?" she asked him.

He smiled, eyes warming, teeth flashing white and gold. "Almost. You're going to be pleased. What about the eyes?" he asked Trina.

"Temp gels. We'll get them close. She'll wear some amber sunshades, too." She peered at something over Eve's shoulder. "Great outfit. I've got a lip dye that matches that red, and we'll use crisp tones on the cheeks and eyes. Can you guys handle doing her nails?"

"I don't need my nails done."

"Woman goes on a hot date, she does her nails. Fingers and toes," Trina added. "Fifteen more minutes," she promised.

It took nearly twice that, and Eve was considering making a break for it. But since she was surrounded, she stayed put and nearly wept with relief when Trina fixed on the wig she'd dyed and styled the night before.

Eve sat while her three keepers took several steps back and studied her.

"I've got one thing to say," Trina began. "I am good." She snapped a finger. "Wardrobe and accessories."

Two hours after the transformation began, Eve stood in front of the mirror Leonardo hauled in. After the first jolt, she settled down to study and critique.

She knew what a swish was now. It was exactly that -- a swish of material that swirled down in a kind of open-fronted skirt. This one was murderous red and fell to mid-calf. It did nothing, as far as she could see, to make the skinsuit more modest. Nothing could. They were called skinsuits for a reason, the same reason she never wore the damn things.

Might as well walk around naked.

The body she was walking around in was curvier than her own. Despite the fact the breasts weren't hers, she felt uncomfortable having them so prominently displayed. Another inch of flesh, and she'd have had to cite herself for indecent exposure.

Her hair was lighter, longer. Sort of a subtle blonde that scooped into points at her chin. A rounded, undented chin, with soft and rounded cheeks. Her mouth didn't look quite so wide with those cheeks, that chin. Still, with the rich red dye, it practically popped off the face.

Her eyes were hazel with hints of green. But the expression in them was all Eve.

"Okay." She nodded, watched Stefanie's face nod back at her. "You are good. But let's give it the big test."

She crossed the room, walked into Roarke's office.

He was on the 'link, had a laser fax coming in and a holo-blueprint of a building hovering over his desk. "I'll approve the changes to the first level. Yes. But I'll need to see..." He trailed off, stared for a full five seconds. "Sorry, Jansen, I'll have to get back to you." He ended transmission, tapped something that had the holo evaporating.

He rose, walked to her, around her. "Amazing. Truly. Are you in there?" he murmured then looked into her eyes. "Ah yes. There you are."

"What tips it?"

"Trina may be a miracle worker, but she can't do anything about those cop's eyes." When she frowned, Roarke lifted her chin with his hand. "Feels very natural," he added with a gentle rub of his thumb.

"Check the boobs," Trina invited from behind Eve. "They're the latest temps. Can't tell them from God-made. Go ahead. Take a squeeze."

"Well, if you insist." Ignoring Eve's growl of warning, he cupped the breasts. "You feel very... healthy."

"They come off the minute I take him down. So don't get any sick ideas."

"They taste real, too," Trina assured him.

Roarke's eyebrow arched. "Really?"

"Don't even think about it." She slapped his hands away. "Give me the verdict. Will he buy it?"

"Hook and line, Lieutenant. You might want to adjust your gait a bit. Saunter rather than stride."

"Saunter. Check."

"And try not to look at him as though you already had him in Interview. You're going to a picnic in the park. Try to remember what that's like."

"I've never had a picnic in the park."

He skimmed a finger down her chin, just where the dent would be. "We'll have to fix that. Soon."

She rode to the north end of the park in the surveillance vehicle, leaning over Feeney's shoulder as he did the checks.

"Running sweeps. Baxter."

The first of Feeney's screens showed a fountain fed by a leaping dolphin. She could hear the tinkle of water against water, snatches of conversations as people strolled, and Baxter's whiny plea for contributions. The screen jumped slightly as he circled.

"Doing your gimp routine, Baxter?" Eve demanded.

"Roger that," he replied.

"Just remember, whatever you take in from the suckers goes in the Greenpeace fund."

As Feeney moved from man to man, she gauged the situation. As she'd predicted, the park was a popular place on a bright June afternoon. She watched a trio of teachers herding a school group like woolly sheep through the botanical gardens.

"Possible sighting." Peabody's voice came over the speakers. "Male, Caucasian, shoulder-length black hair, wearing tan trousers, light blue shirt. Carrying wicker picnic basket and black leather bag. Heading east on path, Endangered Species section."

"I see him." Eve studied the man on-screen. Now that was sauntering, she decided, watching the way he swung the basket gently at his side. And on his hand was a bicolored gold ring set with a ruby. "Go in on the ring," she told Feeney.

He blocked, magnified. And she saw the dragon's head carved into the stone.

"That's a positive ID. We got our man. Keep him in sight. Baxter, he'll be moving into your sector."

"Copy that. I'm on him."

"Peabody, you and Roarke maintain your distance. He's thirty minutes early," she said. "Needs time to get set up. Let's give it to him."

"Trueheart's got a visual," McNab said from his bank of screens. "Possible suspect moving south now. He's heading toward the arranged area. Looks like we've got him."

"Maintain distance," Eve warned. "Trueheart, angle a little to your left. Perfect. Let's watch the show."

He moved off the path onto the grassy area designated for picnics. Two other couples were there before him, as well as a trio of women, obviously taking a long lunch break from work. One lone male lay flat on his back, sunbathing. At Eve's order, he rolled lazily to his side, propped an e-book by his elbow and gave her a new angle on Kevin Morano.

Kevin paused, turning his head right and left as he studied the area. He opted for shade, turning for the largest tree where sun dappled softly on the grass. There he set down basket and bag.

"I want all available eyes on him," Eve announced. Then she hissed as she saw the visual from Peabody's recorder. "Peabody, Roarke, not too close."

"Lovely spot for a picnic." Roarke's voice was warm and cheerful. "Just let me spread this blanket, darling. I wouldn't want you to get grass stains on that lovely outfit."