Loyalty in Death

If she is accompanied, followed, tracked, or attempts to make or receive any transmissions from this position, she will be executed, and the target will be destroyed.

We are Cassandra, prophets of the new realm.

"Extortion," Eve murmured. "It's the money. It's the money, not those psycho jokers on the list. A public statement over national screen. A ten-year-old could figure we'd be able to rig that."

She rose to pace and think. "That's smoke. It's the money. And they'll blow the target whether they get it or not. Because they want to."

"Either way," Feeney pointed out, "it puts you in the crosshairs and some unknown target on countdown."

"Can you fix me up with a tracker they can't make?"

"I don't know what the hell they can make."

"Do your best." She turned to A

"One of Roarke's geniuses is giving us a briefing on it in twenty minutes. Then we're in the field."

"Find the target. I'll deal with the drop."

"You're not going in alone." This time Feeney rose. "Whitney won't clear it."

"I didn't say I was going in alone, but we'd better work out how it'll look that way," she said again. "We're going to need a hundred million in fake bearer bonds." Her smile was thin, humorless. "I think I know someone who can deliver those in time for the deadline."

"Give Roarke my best," Feeney said with a smirk.

She sent him a bland look. "I need you to report to Whitney and rig me a tracker."

"McNab and I will get on that."

"I need McNab – for a bit."

Feeney looked at her, at his detective, nodded. "I'll get another man on it until I've finished with the commander." He took the hard copy. "We'll want a good hour to test it out on you beforehand."

"I'll be available. Peabody, you're with me. I'll meet you at my vehicle in five minutes. McNab." She signaled him out with the flick of a finger.

"I want you to check in with Mira," she began as they walked toward her office. "Get a line on Zeke's testing. Then I want you to put the squeeze on Dickhead in the lab. I'd do it myself, but I don't want to involve Peabody at this point."

"I've got it."

"Threaten him, and if that doesn't work, bribe him. Arena ball tickets should work. I can scope two VIP box seats for next weekend."

"Yeah?" His eyes went bright. "Gee, Dallas, how come you never share with pals? The Huds are squaring off against the Rockets next weekend. If I threaten him into shagging his ass, can I have the tickets?"

"Are you asking for a bribe, Detective?"

Because she'd stopped, because her eyes were flat and her mouth set, he sobered quickly. "Why are you pissed off at me?"

"Why did you have sex with my aide during a sensitive investigation?"

His eyes glistened. "Does she need your permission to date, Lieutenant?"

"This wasn't pizza and a video, McNab." She strode into her office, yanked her jacket off the hook.

"Oh, so she only has to clear who she goes to bed with."

Eve spun back. "You're insubordinate, Detective."

"You're out of line, Lieutenant."

It surprised her, she had to admit. It threw her off rhythm to see him standing there, eyes cold and fierce, body braced, teeth showing. She thought of him – when she thought of him – as a good cop with a sharp mind for details, a good hand with electronics. And as a man, a little foolish, vain, and glib, who talked too much and took nothing beyond his work seriously.

"Don't you tell me I'm out of line." Working on control, she put her jacket on slowly. "Peabody got kicked by a cop with a pretty face before. I'm not watching it happen again. She matters."

"She matters to me, too." The words were out before he could yank out his tongue and bite it off. "Not that she gives a damn about that. She brushed me off this morning, so you've got nothing to worry about." He kicked her chair, sent it skidding across the room. "Goddamn it."

"Oh hell, McNab." The anger she'd worked up so nicely dipped toward nerves. "What are you doing here? You're not getting sticky on her?" His only answer was one long, miserable stare. "I knew it. I knew it. I just knew it."

"It's probably just a blip," he muttered. "I'll get over it."

"Do that. Just do that, will you? This isn't the time – it's never the time, but this is really not the time. So forget it, okay?" Eve didn't wait for his reply – she wanted him to understand. "Her brother's on the hot seat, we've got bombs all over the damn city. I've got one body in the morgue and another in the river. I can't afford to have two members of my team tripping over heartstrings."

He surprised himself by laughing, and meaning it. "Christ, that's cold."

"Yeah, I know." She remembered the way Roarke had looked at her that morning. "I suck at this, McNab. But I need you on your toes."

"I'm on them."

"Stay on them," she told him and walked out.

– =O=-***-=O=-

Since she calculated she couldn't do worse on her record of offending, insulting, and injuring people who mattered to her that morning, Eve put a call through to Roarke as she headed to the garage.

Summerset answered, and her instinctive reaction of clenching her teeth felt a lot better than guilt. "Roarke," was all she said.

"He's engaged on another call at the moment."

"This is police business, you cross-eyed putz. Put me through."

His nostrils flared in a

The screen went blank. Though she didn't doubt he'd have the nerve to cut her off, she counted to ten. And ten again. She was heading toward thirty when Roarke came on.

"Lieutenant." His voice was clipped, the Irish in it frigid temper rather than music.

"The department needs one hundred million in fake bearer bonds – good fakes, but not good enough to pass a bank check. Sheets of ten thousand."

"When's your deadline?"

"I could use them by fourteen hundred."

"You'll have them." He waited a beat. "Anything else?"

Yes, I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. What do you want from me? "That's it. The department – "

"Appreciates it. Yes, I know. I'm on an interplanetary conference call, so if that's all…"

"Yeah, that's all. If you'd let me know when they're ready, I'll arrange transport."

"You'll hear from me."

He cut her off without another word and made her wince. "Okay," she mumbled. "That hurt. Bull's-eye." She jammed the link back in her bag.

She remembered her advice to McNab. Just forget it. She did her best to follow it, but some of her feelings must have shown on her face. Peabody kept her mouth shut as Eve stepped up to the car. And they drove to the morgue in silence.

– =O=-***-=O=-

The dead house was packed like a lobby bar at a Shriners' convention. The corridors were full of techs, assistant MEs, and the medical staff drafted from local health centers to wade in during the current crisis. The stench of humanity, alive and deceased, smeared the air.

Eve managed to snag one of the morgue staff she knew. "Chambers, where's Morris?" She'd hoped for a five-minute consult with the chief medical examiner.

"Up to his eyebrows. The hotel bombing brought in a lot of customers. A lot of them in pieces. It's like putting a jigsaw puzzle together."

"Well, I need to see one of your guests who checked in early this morning. Lamont. Paul Lamont."

"Jeez, Dallas, we're working on priority here. We gotta get these stiffs ID'd."

"It's co

"All right, all right." Obviously miffed, Chambers scurried to a computer, ran the log. "We got him on ice in area D, drawer twelve. We're racking, packing, and stacking them for now."

"I need a look at him, his personal effects and the incoming report."

"Let's make it quick." His shoes slapped down the hall. He swung into area D, slid his key card in the slot, and led them inside. "Drawer twelve," he reminded her. "Just use your master, and I'll pull up the rest."