Betrayal in Death

On rubbery knees he tried to lunge forward. The faint buzzing in his ears was like an awakening nest of hornets. His body moved too slowly, as through syrup, and his hand, still gripping the stu

As Summerset stumbled clear, he could do nothing but watch Yost, one arm dangling uselessly, rush for the corner, and disappear.

He managed two steps in pursuit before the world went gray and he went down hard on his knees. When he was hauled to his feet, he struggled weakly.

"Sick? Are you sick?" The grocer dragged him clear, quickly stuffing the illegal stu

Through the wash of noise in his head, Summerset recognized the familiar voice. "Yes." His tongue was thick, and the words slurred like a drunk's. "Yes, thank you."

The next thing he remembered clearly was sitting in a small room crowded with crates and boxes and smelling like ripe bananas. The grocer's wife, a pretty woman with smooth golden cheeks, was holding a glass of water to his lips.

He shook his head, tried to take stock of his reaction and pinpoint the kind of tranq Yost had managed to get into him. A small dose, he thought, but powerful enough to cause dizziness, mild nausea, and weakening of the limbs.

"I beg your pardon," he said as clearly as he could manage. "Could I trouble you for some Wake-Up, or one of the generic brands of its kind? I require a stimulant."

"You look very ill," she said kindly. "I'll call for the MTs."

"No, no, I don't require the medical technicians. I have some training. I simply need a stimulant."

The grocer spoke softly in Korean to his wife. She sighed, passed him the water, and left the room.

"She will get you what you need." The grocer crouched so that he could study Summerset's glassy eyes. "I saw the man you fought with. You got him, but not too good. He got you better, I think."

"I dispute that." Then on an oath, Summerset was forced to lower his head between his knees.

"You got the bystander best of all. He's out flat." Amusement filtered through his voice. "The cops'll be looking for you. And you ruined my lovely grapes."

"My grapes. I paid for them."

Eve shrugged into her jacket, kicked her desk, and tried to decide if she should alert Roarke that Summerset had, as Roarke had predicted, shaken her police tag.

The hell with it, she thought. She had to get into the field. She was dumping the problem of Summerset into Roarke's lap.

Even as she stepped toward the 'link, the problem walked into her office.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Believe me, Lieutenant, this visit is every bit as distasteful for me as it is for you." Summerset glanced around her cramped office, skimmed his elegant gaze over her stingy window, her lumpy chair. Sniffed. "No, I see it could never be as distasteful for you."

She walked around him, shut her door with a bad-tempered slam. "You ditched my men."

"I may have to live under the same roof as a cop, but I certainly am not obliged to have them following me around on my free time." He sneered, feeling much more like himself again. "They were inept and obvious. If you were going to insult me, the least you could have done was engage adequately trained individuals."

She wasn't going to argue. She'd plucked two of the best available trackers. And both of them had already taken a lashing from the sharpest edge of her tongue. "If you're here to file a citizen's complaint, see the desk sergeant. I'm busy."

"I'm here, against my best judgment, to give a statement. I prefer discussing this with you, under the circumstances. I don't wish to trouble Roarke."

"Trouble him?" Her gut clenched. "What happened?"

He glanced at the choice of seats again, sighed, then opted to give his statement standing.

He had to give her credit. After one explosive oath, she fell silent. She listened, her eyes narrowed, flat as a shark's and just as ruthless.

When he was done giving what he felt was an admirably concise and thorough statement, she hammered him with questions over points he'd never considered.

Yes, he habitually stopped at that market, at that time, on his half-day. He most often observed the maxibus stop there as he enjoyed the rough ballet, so to speak, of passengers.

Yost had come up behind him, slightly to the left side. Yes, he himself was right-handed.

Yost had been wearing a sandy wig, a brush cut, military style, and a pearl gray overcoat. Light material, though it had been warm enough to go without a topcoat. The stu

It had, apparently, caught the bystander mid-chest, but he was recovering well from that and the minor scrapes and bruises received on his trip down to the sidewalk.

"Does anyone know you were carrying an illegal weapon?"

"The grocer. Otherwise, I told the beat droid Yost had the stu

"The least you could have done was let me and my men do our jobs. If you hadn't ditched the tag, we might have nabbed him when he went for you."

"Perhaps," Summerset said evenly, "if you had been courteous enough to discuss your plans that involved me with me, rather than sneak behind my back, I might have cooperated."

"My ass."

"Quite correct, but we never explored the possibility. As it is, I managed to defend myself quite satisfactorily, made him extremely uncomfortable. It cost me some minor embarrassment and ten dollars' worth of overpriced grapes."

"You think this is a joke? Is this a fucking joke?"

His jaw tightened. "No, Lieutenant, I don't. If I found it even marginally amusing, I would not be in a police station. But I am here, voluntarily, and have given you a statement in the hopes this information may in some way assist you in your investigation."

"You can assist me in my investigation by sitting your tight ass down until I arrange for a black-and-white to take you home."

"I will not ride in a police vehicle."

"You damn well will. You're a known target. I've got enough to worry about without having you dance around the city with a bull's-eye on your butt. From this moment on, you'll do exactly what I tell you, or I'll – "

She broke off as her door opened and Roarke came in.

"Oh yeah, come right in, don't bother to knock. It's old home week."

"Eve" was all he said, brushing a hand over her arm. But his eyes were riveted to Summerset's face. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, of course." Should have known, Summerset thought with a vicious tug of guilt. He should have known Roarke would learn of the incident almost before it was over. "I've just given the lieutenant my statement of the events. I intended to contact you when I returned home."

"Did you?" Roarke murmured. "One of the MTs called to the scene recognized you when you checked on an injured man. He managed to pass the word up to me before you did."

"I'm sorry. I had hoped to reassure you that there was no harm done. As you can see, I was unhurt."

"Do you think I'm going to tolerate this?" Roarke spoke softly, in a tone that warned Eve the teeth of temper were ready to snap and bite.

"There's nothing to tolerate. It's done and over."

Her eyebrows went up. It was the voice of a patient father chastising a son. Her gaze cut to Roarke, saw the temper shimmer.