Loyalty in Death

"Lieutenant? What can I do for you?"

Eve blew out a breath and stepped into those shadows. "I need a consult."

"Oh? Of what sort?"

"Of the unofficial sort."

A glimmer of a smile worked around his mouth. "Ah."

"I hate when you say 'ah' that way."

"I know."

"Look, I'm not in a position to explain right now, but if you don't have anything on for tonight – "

"But I do. We do," he reminded her. "You invited guests."

"I invited?" She went totally blank. "I never invite anybody. You're the one."

"Not this time. Peabody and her young brother? Ring a bell?"

"Oh hell." Dragging a hand through her hair, Eve paced in a circle. "I can't get out of that. I can't tell her the truth, and if I make some lame excuse, she'll pout. You can't work with her when she pouts."

She picked up her coffee, drank with a scowl on her face. "Are we like feeding them and everything?"

He laughed, adoring her. "Eve, you are the most gracious of hosts. Personally, I'm looking forward to meeting Peabody's brother. Free-Agers are so soothing."

"I'm not much in the mood for soothing." But she shrugged. "Well, they have to go home sometime."

"They certainly do. I'll be home in a couple of hours. That should give you time to fill me in."

"Okay, we'll play it that way. You ever hear of Aries Manufacturing?"

"No."

"Mount Olympus Enterprises?"

She had his interest now. "No. But Cassandra slides right in, doesn't she?"

"Looks that way. I'll be home when you get here," she told him and signed off.

She solved the first problem by sending Peabody back to Cop Central with the updated report and instructions to pass what they had on to Feeney and McNab.

With the idea of clearing her head before she worked on the rest of the problem, she headed downstairs. A quick workout, she decided, might jar something loose in her brain.

Summerset stood at the base of the stairs. He studied her baggy sweater and ancient trousers with a cool and derisive eye. "I trust you intend to change into something more appropriate before di

"I trust you'll continue to be an asshole for the rest of your life."

He drew air sharply through his nose, and because he knew she despised it, took her arm before she could swing by him. She bared her teeth. He smiled. "There is a messenger coming to the door with a package for you."

"A messenger." Though she yanked her arm free as a matter of principle, she shifted to stand between Summerset and the door. Her hand moved automatically to rest on her weapon. "Did you scan?"

"Naturally." Puzzled, he lifted a brow. "It's a registered delivery service. The driver is a young female. The scan showed no weapons."

"Call the delivery service and verify," she ordered. "I'll take care of the door." She started forward, tossed a glance over her shoulder. "You sca

He paled a little but nodded. "Of course. Gate security is very thorough. Roarke designed it himself."

"Call and verify," she repeated. "Do it from the back of the house."

Eyes grim, Summerset drew out his palm 'link but moved no farther than the parlor doorway. He'd be damned if he'd allow Eve to shield him as she'd done once before.

Eve watched the mini-scooter approach on the security monitor. The logo for Zippy Service was clearly printed on the fuel tank. The driver wore the standard bright red uniform, goggles, and cap. She flipped them up as she stopped the scooter, then stood gaping at the house.

She was young, Eve noted, her cheeks still pudgy with baby fat. Her eyes were wide and dazzled as she craned her head back to try to see the top of the house as she moved forward.

She tripped on the steps, then blushed as she looked around to see if anyone noticed. In one hand she carried a disc pouch. She used the other to hitch down her jacket, then ring the bell.

"The delivery is verified," Summerset said from behind Eve and nearly made her jolt.

"I told you to call from the back of the house."

"I don't take orders from you." He reached for the door, blocking her, then yelped in absolute shock when Eve stomped hard on his instep.

"Get back," she snapped. "Stupid son of a bitch." She muttered it as she yanked the door open. Before the delivery girl could give her standard greeting, Eve had dragged her inside, shoved her face first against the wall, and secured her hands behind her back.

"You got a name?"

"Yes, yes, ma'am. Sherry Combs. I'm Sherry Combs." She had her eyes squeezed shut. "I'm with Zippy. I have a delivery. Please, lady, I don't carry any money."

"Is that the right name, Summerset?"

"Yes. She's just a child, Lieutenant, and you've frightened her."

"She'll live through it. How'd you get the delivery, Sherry?"

"I-I-I…" She gulped audibly, kept her eyes shut. "I'm on rotation."

"No, how did the package come in?"

"Oh, oh, oh, drop box. I think. I'm pretty sure. Golly, I don't know. My supervisor just told me to bring it here. It's my job."

"Okay." Eve eased back, patted Sherry's shoulder. "We've been getting a lot of solicitations," she said with a smile. "We really hate that here." She pulled out a fifty-credit chip and pressed it into the girl's sweaty palm. "You drive careful."

"Okay, right, thanks, gosh." She started for the door, then turned back, almost tearfully. "Man, gee lady, you're supposed to sign for it, but you don't have to if you don't want to."

Eve simply jerked her head toward Summerset, then started upstairs with the pouch. She heard him murmur to the girl. "I'm terribly sorry. She hasn't had her medication today."

Despite the fact that she'd seen the return address on the pouch, Eve had to grin. But the humor didn't last long. Her eyes were cool when she walked back into her office. She sealed her hands, opened the pouch, then slipped the disc it held into her machine.

We are Cassandra.

We are the gods of justice.

We are loyal.

Lieutenant Dallas, we hope our demonstration of this morning was enough to convince you of our capabilities and the seriousness of our intent. We are Cassandra, and we predict that you will show your respect to us by arranging for the release of the following political heroes now wrongly imprisoned in the gestapo facilities of Kent Prison in New York: Carl Mi

If these patriots of freedom are not released by noon tomorrow, we will be forced to sacrifice a New York landmark. A symbol of excess and foolishness where mortals gawk at mortals. You will be contacted at noon for verification. If our demands are not met, all lives lost will be on your head.

We are Cassandra.

Susan B. Stoops, Eve thought. Susie B, former nurse, who had poisoned fifteen elderly patients at the rehab facility where she'd worked. Claiming they had all been war criminals.

Eve had been primary, had taken her in, and knew Nurse Susie B was doing five terms of life in the mentally defective ward at Kent Prison.

She had a feeling the other "political heroes" would have similar histories.

She copied the disc and called Whitney.

– =O=-***-=O=-

"It's out of my hands, at least for now," Eve told Roarke as she paced the main parlor. "The political heads are doing their circle and spin. I wait for orders. I wait for contact."

"They won't agree to terms."

"No. You add up the body count the four names they want are responsible for, you come up with over a hundred. Jung blew up a church claiming all religious symbols were tools of the hypocritical right. A kids' choir was rehearsing inside. Mi