Delusion in Death (42 page)

“Just enough to get me to the table,” she told her partner as Peabody began to wrap the scarf.

“You might as well look good. You’re sure about this?”

“I’m sure the weird scarf and the shades will get me across the room.”

“Dallas.”

“I’m sure. I want you in the back, in the kitchen. We’re going
to move people out, and I need you to keep it smooth and quiet. And when I tell you, move in. Not before, Peabody. You, Baxter, Trueheart, move in on my go, and when Lowenbaum clears it. Not before.”

“Understood.”

She leaned in just a little, lowered her voice. “Lowenbaum will stun me if he needs to. I’m counting on you to take care of Roarke.”

“Oh, jeez.”

“If it goes south, you take him down, get him out. That’s not just an order, Peabody, it’s a request from a friend. Get him down and out. Promise me.”

“I do. I will. And you, too.”

“Lowenbaum’s men will come for the cop first. I’m not worried about it.”

Much
, she thought as she stuck on the rainbow shades. “How stupid do I look?”

“Actually, you look totally chill.” Peabody gave the trailing edge of the scarf a little flip. “Sort of urban-bohemian chic.”

“God. Doctor Mira? Are you there?”

“Yes.” The voice, tight, tense, came through the earbud. “And I feel this is an unnecessary risk.”

“A calculated one. I’m covered. There’s a toddler in a damn booster seat smearing spaghetti sauce on his face ten feet away from the target. Once I get in position, feed me. Pull me back if I head in the wrong direction with her. I want to keep her engaged until we get as many civilians to safety as possible.”

“She’s a soldier first. She’ll sacrifice herself for her mission.”

“I’m counting on that mission priority being Callaway. Lowenbaum, are we set?”

“In position.”

She looked around. They’d worked fast, barricading the area. Already lookie-loos hugged the barricades, ready for some entertainment. Lowenbaum stretched over his shooting stand, weapon aimed. “If you have to stun me, don’t go for the body shot. The coat’s lined with body armor.”

“No shit.”

“None. I’ll show you later.”

“Lots of traffic inside,” he told Eve. “Waitstaff moving by the booth. The table in front of it partially blocks the target. If you can move the interference, I’d appreciate it.”

“On the list.” She turned as Roarke came toward her, had to roll her eyes.

He’d ditched the suit jacket, the top coat for somebody’s bunged-up fake leather jacket. He’d pulled his hair back in a tail, added a red, I ♥ NY ski cap.

“How much did you pay for that ridiculous hat?”

“Entirely too much.”

“Well, you don’t look so rich anyway.” She took his hands. “Let’s go bag this bitch. On the move, Lowenbaum.”

“Copy that.”

“I bet the pasta’s good here,” Roarke commented as they crossed the street.

“Maybe we’ll get some to go when we’re done. Clear visual on target from here,” she said when they’d reached the door. “Entering building now.”

“Team Alpha, go.”

Into the kitchen, Eve thought as they entered the happy noise, the engaging scents. She slid her hand in her pocket as the cheerful-eyed maitre d’ approached.

“Welcome.”

She turned up her badge before he could continue. “Focus on me. What’s your name?”

“I—Franco. Is there a problem?”

“There is, and I need you to keep on me, listen, and do exactly what I say. Are you a steady sort of guy, Franco?”

“I—yes, I think I am.”

“Stay steady. There are cops moving into the kitchen right now. They’re going to get your staff to safety. No, keep looking at me. There’s a woman in the booth—west corner, rear.”

“Ms. Weaver, but—”

“The woman beside her. She’s dangerous, probably armed. Steady, Franco. When we’re at the booth, when I draw her attention, I want you to—quietly, very quietly, begin to move the people at the tables on her blind side out through the kitchen. One table at a time. You can tell them they’ve been chosen for some special deal, whatever it takes. Get them into the kitchen, and we’ll take them from there. Do the same with your staff, one person at a time. Quietly. Can you do that, Franco?”

“Yes. But Ms. Weaver—”

“I’ll take care of her. Now, first thing. The table directly in front of the booth, the one with the kid with sauce all over him and the older kid pretending to eat his vegetables? Move them out now. You can make a fuss there. You have something special for the family in the kitchen. Something for the kids, right? Big smiles, big surprise. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Do it now—happy face, Franco.”

His smile looked a little sick, but Eve thought it would pass. She
let him reach the table. He actually clapped his hands—nice touch. Eve watched Gina’s attention flick toward him, assess, then veer away.

“We’re going in,” she said as the family—lots of kid excitement—rose from the table.

She wandered through, caught Gina’s glance to and away. The minute the kitchen door closed behind the family, she zeroed for the booth.

“Nancy! Nancy Weaver, is that you!”

She let out a laugh, took advantage of Gina’s momentary surprise and plopped down next to the man. “Who’d’ve thought I’d run into you this way. How the hell are you?”

“I—I’m fine.” Weaver’s eyes widened with recognition, but she held surprisingly steady. “Just fine.”

“You look just fine,” she said as Roarke took a chair from the vacated table, angled it beside Eve.

“I’m sorry.” Gina spoke coldly. “But this is a business meeting. You’ll have to catch up another time.”

“Oh, don’t be such a party pooper, Gina. I’ve got a weapon aimed at you under the table. Use yours on Nancy, make any wrong move, and I use it. Let’s just talk.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Franco murmur to the people at a side table out of Gina’s range of vision. To keep attention focused, Eve pulled off the scarf, the shades. “That’s better.”

“I have enough Wrath of God on me to turn this place into Armageddon.”

“Then we all try to kill each other before the SWAT team stationed outside stuns us senseless. And where do we go from there? Let’s avoid all that mess. Put your weapon on the table.”

“Not a chance. I’ll cut her open like a ripe peach first.”

A knife then, better than a blaster.

“Nancy’s not important,” Mira said in Eve’s ear. “Just a corporate shill.”

“You’d just be cutting open another corporate lackey. So what? And the minute you do, you’re down. You’re too smart to lose your leverage.”

Gina’s sharply honed face held nothing but cold determination. “I’ve got three vials of my leverage with me.”

“Show her respect,” Mira advised. “Open negotiations.”

“You’ve got the hammer there. We want to avoid another incident. There are kids in here, Gina.”

And she smiled. “That’s right, and they’re more susceptible. You won’t be able to stop them fast enough. You’ll stun them, open yourself up to outrage.”

“Got me there. What do you want?”

“I want this police state overturned. I want people like him—” She pointed to Roarke. “I know who you are now. I want people like him on the street and all the money and material possessions he’s so greedily grasped destroyed.”

“She’s testing you,” Mira said. “Draw her toward the grandson, the personal.”

“That’s above my pay grade. Tell me something I can make happen. It’s on the line for me, too, Gina. Let’s be real. You hit this place, all these people, I look like a moron when I’ve just announced an arrest. Lew goes down, sure—and you—but so do I.”

“I want to speak to my grandson.”

“I may be able to arrange that, sure.”

“Here. Face-to-face. I want him brought here.”

“That’ll take some time and doing. And what then? If I pull that off, he’s in the hot zone, like the rest of us. Maybe you don’t care about that, about infecting him.”

“I want to see him. Here. Then the two of us are going to walk out of here with the corporate lackey and the greedy bastard you married as shields.”

“Well, frankly, the corporate lackey’s dispensable, but I’m pretty attached to the greedy bastard.”

“How can you say that?” Under the table, Weaver tapped Eve’s foot twice, an acknowledgment. “You’re the police. You’re supposed to protect me.”

“Grow up,” Gina snapped. “Cops are cops, corrupt with power. Bring Lewis here, arrange for transportation to my shuttle—which will be clear—or I turn this place into a madhouse, complete with homicidal kids.”

“You should know how this works, Gina. Give a little to get a little. You’re asking me to release a mass murderer—well, two counting you—give up two civilians, and what are you offering me?

“Let’s start with a trade,” Eve suggested. She laid her weapon on the table. “Mine for yours. Take mine, it’s less lethal, but it’ll get the job done. Give me the knife.”

“What the hell, Dallas,” Lowenbaum demanded.

“A show of cooperation and
trust
,” Eve said, eyes on Gina. “I’d rather you didn’t spill Nancy’s blood all over the floor.”

When Gina reached for the weapon, Eve slapped her hand down on it. “Let me see the knife.”

Eyes flat, but with a smirk playing around the corners of her mouth, Gina pulled the knife out from under the table. “I’ve got the vials in my other hand,” she warned. “Try anything, I toss them down, break them. That’s no slow infection, and triple the usual dose.
The children in here? They won’t just kill, they’ll die. The infection will kill them, or at the least cause brain damage.”

“How do I know you’ve got anything but bullshit in your other hand?”

Gina lifted it, twisted her wrist to show the three vials. “If I drop them, you’ve got a bigger mess than this bitch’s blood on your hands.”

“Okay.” To show cooperation, Eve raised both her hands—and gave Gina the opportunity to grab the weapon.

Gina rammed it against Weaver’s throat. “You know what this will do, on full, if I fire. She’s dead.”

“You don’t want to do that, Gina.” Eve let her voice waver a bit, stalling, stalling. “That’s no way to get Lew out.”

“Bring him
here
! And you.” She jutted her chin at Roarke. “Stand up, move here, right here.”

“Do as she says,” Eve said quietly. “She’s got the advantage.”

“That’s right.”

“He’s blocking my shot,” Lowenbaum said when Roarke stood.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. We’ll keep this under control. Trust me.”

“Trust you?” Gina laughed. “Fuck you. Tell them to bring Lew. I want them to back off—all the fucking cops. I’m walking out of here with my grandson, this bitch, and your man.”

“Roarke.”

“It’s all right.” He met Eve’s eyes. “I understand.”

“You understand nothing,” Gina hurled back, “but you will.”

“Take me.” With a plea in his voice, Marty leaned forward. “Let Nancy go, and take me. I’m in charge. She takes orders from me. I’m the one you want.”

“You want me to take you? You want to be the hero? Get out of the booth. You, cop, out and on your knees, hands behind your head.
Move your ass,” she ordered Weaver, sliding out to stand, shielded from the narrow glass door by Roarke.

“What are you doing, Eve?” Mira demanded. “Tell her you’ll start arrangements for the grandson.”

“I don’t want anybody hurt. That’s priority.” Slowly Eve eased out of the booth. “That’s why I had nearly everyone taken out of the restaurant. Look around, Gina. We’ve only got about twenty people left in here, and oops, they’re heading out the front.”

“Then this is on you.” She pulled the trigger. Nancy let out a scream, then stared, open-mouthed.

“I guess I forgot to mention I disengaged that one.” Eve reached for the weapon in her pocket. “But not this one.”

“Stun me!” Gina shrieked it. “Go ahead, and these vials hit the floor. You’ll turn that weapon against your own man.”

“It’s done, Gina. Drop them and my buddies outside will see to it we all take an enforced nap. Not pleasant, but I can live with it.”

“Speak for yourself,” Roarke commented.

“Try it. See if it’s fast enough. Try it! Stun me and find out who lives with it.”

Eve had a quick flash from her dream, of her mother’s face, of that same vicious hate. “I’m not going to stun you. Let’s try this way.” She turned her weapon around, as if to offer it. In the instant Gina glanced down, Eve used her left—a quick, hard, bare-knuckled jab. And found it satisfying to see blood spurt from Gina’s nose.

As she fell back, her hand opened. The vials slipped out. Braced for it, Roarke made the dive, caught them an inch from the floor.

“Just in case,” he said.

“Nice fielding.”

“Thanks. Now I have a bit of a headache. Kidding,” he said quickly when she swung her weapon in his direction. “Just kidding.”

“Ha ha. Move in! Lowenbaum,” she continued as she stepped to Gina, rolled the dazed, moaning woman over to restrain her. “Target’s secured.”

“So I see. All teams, target’s down and secure. Stand down.”

“Thanks for the assist, Doctor Mira.”

“You might’ve given me a clearer picture.”

“Some of it was spur. It was her eyes. I played off her eyes.” Eve turned Gina over again, hauled her up to sit. And looked in her eyes again. “You’re old, and you’re slow—physically and mentally. You lost your way—maybe all those years of living off the fat—the fat you claim to despise. You’d have infected kids, and kids were the new hope, the foundation, the beginning. But you’d have infected them to get to your own. It was never about vengeful gods or Revelation with you. It was about the blood and the death, and your twisted revolution. You let me see that, and gave me the edge.”

“Your end-time will come.”

“Yeah, it will, but you won’t be part of it. Odds are, given you’ve got about a half century on me, yours’ll come first. Whatever time you’ve got left, you’ll spend in a cage. Just like your grandson. Just like Menzini’s legacy.”

“There’ll be others.”

“You keep thinking that. Baxter, you and Trueheart can take the old lady in.”

“Happy to serve.”

“She knows the formula,” Roarke murmured.

“Yeah, which is why Agent Teasdale and HSO will arrange for very special accommodations for her. I think Menzini left a vacancy.”