Calculated in Death (22 page)

“How long?”

“Thirty-six hours, at the outside. If we can ID and locate, we can bring in the killer and the e-man. If, however, we’re unable to ID or unable to locate expediently, I have a contingency plan.”

Leaning back, Whitney linked his fingers. “Go ahead.”

“The New York premiere of
The Icove Agenda
has generated a lot of media interest and attention. It’s well reported that Peabody and I will be attending. I believe, Commander, following the pattern, Doctor Mira’s updated profile, and a ninety-six-point-six probability ratio the UNSUB will also attend in some fashion in order to complete the objective he failed to complete yesterday.”

“You believe he’ll try to get to you and/or Peabody at the premiere? With the crowds attending or watching the attendees arrive, the cameras, the security?”

“I do, not despite that but because of it. He failed, and was humiliated, on screen, with the replay of the baby catch.”

“That was impressive,” he agreed.

“Thank you, sir. The increase in the violence of his kills today—in his more personal involvement in those kills—indicates a growing taste for murder, and a passion that lacked with Dickenson. He’s a coward, Commander, who needs to prove his ability, his strength. Every kill has been an ambush. This time, we’ll turn that around.”

“And ambush him?”

“Sir. With an interview with Nadine Furst, I can sweeten the trap, play up my attending, and more, my excitement about it.”

Something close to a smirk played around Whitney’s mouth. “Are you that good an actress, Dallas?”

“I can pull it off. He’ll see the shine, not the trap. Moreover, if we don’t close this down prior, Alexander will also be in attendance. He’ll finish this job, in public, and in front of his employer. Commander, I strongly believe if we don’t wrap this up before, he will make that attempt. I want to be ready for him. He killed two people in under an hour today. He’s pumped, and so far he’s only missed once. He needs to rectify that.”

“There are easier ways to kill a cop.”

“But none as expedient, or that fits his pattern of impulse. None that brings those cops down at the moment it seems they’re most vulnerable. All dressed up, peacocking around. And all those people who saw his cowardice and humiliation on screen now get to watch his triumph. If we don’t have him in a cage, Commander, he’ll make his move tomorrow night.”

“I tend to agree. All right, Lieutenant, what’s your plan?”

STILL NEEDED SOME WORK, EVE THOUGHT AS
she walked back down to Homicide. Even with the commander’s input, the op needed a tighter rein.

Calculating weak spots, soft spots, and dead ends, she stepped into her bullpen.

“Nadine’s in your office,” Peabody called out. “She said you’d asked her to come in.”

“Yeah.” She scanned the room. “I want everyone not needed in the field in whatever conference room Peabody can get. One hour. Peabody, get me the layout of Five Star Theater.”

She left the mutterings behind her, went into her office.

Nadine paced the small area in skinny heels the color of kiwis that matched the waist-whittling jacket snugged over a black leather dress. She peppered questions and answers through an earpiece. They seemed to deal with timing, editing, and eight o’clock reservations. Nadine’s cameraman sat in Eve’s visitor’s chair, and from the beeps and cheers emitting from his PPC, passed the time with a game.

When Nadine gave Eve a just-a-minute gesture, Eve turned to the camera. “Give us a few minutes.”

“Sure.” He hauled himself, his camera, his bag up, and still playing the game, strolled out of the room.

“If he wants it down to two-forty-three, I want Derrick to make the cuts. No, it has to be Derrick. I’ll let you know when I’m done here. If I knew that, I’d tell you now, wouldn’t I? Push it to eight-thirty. Just do it, Maxie.”

Obviously steamed, she yanked off the earpiece. “This better be good,” she told Eve. “I’ve got a special in post-production hell, an assistant who can’t seem to put two clear thoughts together this week, and a last-minute fitting on my dress for tomorrow night.”

“I don’t know if it comes up to the extreme priority of a dress fitting.”

“Don’t be so snotty. Tomorrow night’s important, and I’m damn well going to look sensational.” She stopped, gave Eve a cold, hard look. “You didn’t drag me down here to tell me you’re skipping the premiere?”

“Just the opposite. I want you to interview me about attending the premiere, and make sure it gets some splash.”

“Did you recently suffer some head trauma? From what I saw on the Amazing Baby Catch, you hit your ass. Then again . . .”

“Keep it up. I can get another reporter over here in ten seconds flat.”

“Another reporter wouldn’t go along with whatever you want to stir up, and in fact give it just the right stir.” Nadine sat, crossed her excellent legs. “What are you after?”

“Some media attention, on this specific event. You’ll have your own cameras covering it, right?”

“You bet your probably very sore ass.”

“If this plays out, you’re going to get a hell of a story.”

Nadine flicked a glance at the board, then shifted back to Eve. “What does tomorrow’s premiere have to do with the three murders?”

“We’ve got some lines, and may very well have that nailed down before the premiere. If not, we could nail it down
at
the premiere.”

Nadine pursed her lips and got that reporter’s gleam in her eye. “How?”

“The how’s up to me and the NYPSD. The lure’s up to you. He tried to take me and Peabody out once. I’m saying he’ll try again, and I’m going to set the time and place.”

“Tomorrow night, at Five Star Theater.”

“It’s probable he knows I’ll be there. I want to remind him, toss it in his face, and give it some gloss so the idea of taking me down there is irresistible.”

“You talking about the gloss, the glitz, the glam?” Angling her head, Nadine gave Eve a dubious study. “It’s going to come off out of character.”

“You play up that end. I’m about looking forward to seeing the investigation I headed hit the screens. You could ask—”

“Uh-uh.” Nadine held up a finger, wagged it back and forth. “If I’m going to run this, we play by the rules. I can’t lay it all out for you, practice what I say, you say. It’s an interview or it’s not.”

“Okay. That’s fair.”

“And if this interview helps you catch your killer, you come on
Now
, do a segment.” Nadine ticked her finger again before Eve could object. “That’s fair, too. I’m going to have to juggle to get this—what by all appearances is a fluff piece—on air tonight.”

“Fine. Done. Deal.”

It didn’t take long. Nadine angled Eve at the office window in a way that would give the illusion, on screen, of a bigger space, and a wide view of the city.

“Lieutenant Dallas,” Nadine began, “are you looking forward to the premiere of
The Icove Agenda
tomorrow evening?”

“I am. It was a difficult case, a far-reaching case. The kind that sticks with you as a police officer. I’m very curious to see how the vid interprets reality.”

“You had very little involvement in the production, by your own choice.”

“I figure people like Mason Roundtree don’t tell me how to run a murder investigation, and I won’t tell them how to create a vid. I want to see how it turned out, how it angles. Your book got it right. I’m pretty confident the vid based on it will, too.”

“Thanks. While you’ve been known to attend glamorous events as Roarke’s wife in the past, this event centers on you.”

“On the case,” Eve said, instantly and obviously uncomfortable.

“On which you were primary. How do you feel about that end of it? The red carpet, the fashion—and commentary—the celebrities?”

And it would be out of character, she realized, to pretend any excitement or interest in fashion and glitz.

So she’d play it straight.

“The actors are just people doing a job as far as I can see. From what I saw when I visited the set, they did a good job. Actually, I just spoke with Marlo Durn today, and look forward to seeing her and the rest of the cast and crew tomorrow night.”

“Rumor has it you’ll be wearing something designed especially for you and the event, by your favored designer, Leonardo. Any hints on the dress for our audience?”

Eve was reasonably sure Nadine could have held a stunner to her throat and she wouldn’t be able to describe the dress. “I’ll only say Leonardo’s favored for a reason. He never misses, so all I have to do is put on what he makes. Tomorrow—well, it’s sort of a fantasy, isn’t it? Fancy clothes, fancy people, red carpets, theater, a major vid. It’s a break from what I do every day, a chance to step into the fantasy for one night before going back to the reality of the next case.”

Nadine pitched a couple more soft balls, changed the camera angle, then wrapped.

“That’ll work. Not bad, Dallas.”

“The more air it gets, the better.”

“I’ll do what I can do.”

Satisfied with that, Eve gathered what she needed to set up a briefing, walked out to Peabody. “Anything from EDD or Yancy?”

“Not yet.”

“Let’s get set up.”

“For what, exactly?”

“I’ll tell you while we set up.” As they went out, Eve dug for credits.

“Here, get me a tube of Pepsi, and get whatever you want.”

“You’re really back on a Vending boycott?”

“It’s safer for everybody. If we get leads on the hacker and the muscle, solid ones that lead us to them, this briefing will just be an exercise.” She took the tube Peabody handed her, cracked it as they walked to the conference room.

“Otherwise, Mira believes, and I agree, he’s going to try to take us out again—you and me.”

“Well, that’s not happy news.”

“It is because we can work that. Did you get me the theater layout?”

“Right here. I wasn’t sure if you wanted it on your unit or a hard copy.”

Eve took the disc. “This for now. Go ahead and set up a board, standard for the current investigation.”

As Eve loaded the disc, brought the layout on screen, and Peabody set up the board, Eve filled her in on the basics of her proposed operation.

“At the premiere?” Peabody interrupted. “Really?”

“Don’t whine about it.”

“I got a new dress. And shoes. I spent more for the shoes than the dress. And Trina’s got this idea for my hair, and this whole new eye pallet to . . .” Trailing off, Peabody cleared her throat and got very busy with the board.

“I know about Trina. You bitch.”

Shoulders hunched, Peabody carefully pinned up murder. “It’s a special night. You’ll look really good, and you won’t have to do it all yourself. We won’t want the NYPSD to fall short of the Hollywood crowd, right? Team pride!”

“Rah fucking rah.”

“Really, Dallas, it’ll be good, it’ll be chilly, and we’ll look abso-mag by the time . . .” She trailed off again, face lighting up. “We
will
look mag. And if we take down this killer at the premiere, with cams everywhere, it’ll be all over the screen like the flying baby. And we’ll look completely frosted.”

“It’s so good you’ve got your priorities in place, Detective.”

“Catching killers, that’s what we do. But if we get to do it at a big celeb event, there’s no downside to looking most totally excellent. That’s why you wanted Nadine and a camera. You wanted to push on this.”

“She’ll get me on screen, talking about looking forward to the premiere. Odds are it’ll give him a nudge to try for us there—which playing the odds he’d try to do anyway—if we haven’t taken him before. I need to set it up,” she continued as she studied the layout. “Who sets up the carpet crap, the route, that stuff?”

“They have their publicist work with the theater’s publicist.” Peabody left the board, picked up a laser pointer. “They’ll block off the street to vehicular traffic here, and here. They’ll have pedestrian barricades along here, and down through here. Those with media passes can—”

“How do you know this?” Eve interrupted.

“Oh, well, I asked if I could have a copy of the setup, the schedule, and so on. So I could sort of practice, sort of get the feel for it. It’s my first time,” she said defensively.

“If the information wasn’t so useful, I’d pity you. Run me through it.”

“Okay. They’ll let our limo through this block for the drop-off at the main entrance. People who want to catch a glimpse, try for autographs, take their own vids, they’ll be behind barricades in these areas. The publicist thinks high volume there because the lead actors are A-list, the story’s New York, we’re New York, and because K. T. Harris was murdered during the filming. The house will be filled—SRO—invite only, but they issued a lot of VIP tickets. There’ll be security for the producers, personal security, theater security, and an NYPSD presence.”

“More than they know,” Eve murmured.

“So, we get dropped here, and the red carpet goes right from the curb, down this way. At this point the media—those who obtained passes—can line up to take vids, stills, ask questions, try for quick interviews. And that goes all the way into the theater lobby.”

“It’s a big one,” Eve commented, studying the layout.

“Yeah. McNab and I went there a couple weeks ago to scope it out. It’s not one of your standard vid houses. It’s like a palace. It has two full bars, and a little café, and—”

“We’ll get to all that.”

“Well, there’ll be more media in the lobby. It’s like a pecking order. The schedule calls for us to be there by seven-fifteen so we can do the red carpet, talk to reporters, do this mix and mingle. Then we’ll have escorts take us to our seats. We’re down front because we’re V-VIPs.”

“Security at all exits? And in each section?”

“I didn’t ask about that—not knowing at the time somebody might try to kill me—but you have to figure it. They don’t want people trying to sneak in. And if you really have to pee, they’d want security nearby because the media’s allowed to stay in this smaller viewing room for the vid. If you want a drink or snack, each seat has an order plate. You key in what you want, they deliver it to you. No charge for us because—”

“V-VIPs. What happens when the vid’s finished?”

“We’re escorted out. Back out the main if we want, or either of these back exits.”

“Okay. Okay.”

She played it through her head as she walked back and forth in front of the screen. “He can’t wait until it’s over because he won’t be sure which way we’ll go. And he won’t want to wait. He could mix with the crowds behind the barricades, but unless he’s got something more lethal at that distance than a stunner, that’s not going to do the job. He’ll need to get close this time. Security or media, so it’s going to be security. Easier for him to blend there.”

She studied the screen, changed angles, zoomed in, enhanced, zoomed out.

“Finish the board,” she told Peabody. “I need to work this out.”

“If he hits us outside, he gets to do it in front of more people,” Peabody pointed out. “The public.”

“Yeah, that’s a factor. But inside gives him a better chance of coming in close, and from behind. Smaller space. All those celebrities and VIPs corralled in there, grabbing drinks, showing off for the cameras.”

She ordered the computer to give her an overlay of that sector, studied that, calculating the most likely escape route. Out of the theater, out of the area.

She routed the quickest, then routed what she considered the best. She’d run probabilities, but her instinct told her he’d go quickest. She didn’t think he was smart enough to see the advantage of the longer, less direct route.

As she began to see the structure of her operation in her head, she used one screen for exterior, one for interior of the theater.