Betrayal in Death

"Co

"Name sort of stuck in my throat, seeing the position I was in. As for Hinrick, he stepped out even before I was in it," Mick told him. "Pissed Naples off royal, I'm told. So you knew about the boy. Pitiful little weasel that gorgeous example of female managed to birth if you're asking me. Had every advantage all of his useless life and still whines for more. Didn't make his own, like you and me."

Mick glanced around the room. He'd enjoyed his stay, on a great many levels. But it looked like he'd be packing his bags sooner than later. "So, what do we do now? You aren't going to turn me over to your lovely wife, the cop, are you? After all, I've not done anything as yet, in actuality."

"I want Naples."

"Ah, now, Roarke, you're putting my ass in a sling there."

"And Yost."

"What in God's green earth have I to do with the likes of Sylvester Yost?"

"You're Naples's man and so is he. And he's killed two of my people so that the lot of you can get closer to the money."

"You're talking gibberish. Yost's not in this. True enough Naples might've put him on Britt and Joe, God rest them. But that's nothing to do with my dealings with the man. I've never met Yost, thank the saints. Never had truck with him. You know that's not my style."

"It hasn't been, but it's been a long time between for us, Mick. Naples set me up, and he's used two of my people like pawns. Today, Yost went for Summerset."

"Summerset?" The liquor left in Mick's glass sloshed. "You're trying to tell me Naples set Yost on Summerset? You've got to be mistaken. What purpose would there be in…"

His eyes never left Roarke's, but they went wide. As his color drained, he reached out blindly for the back of a chair. Levering himself around it, he sat.

"Oh Jesus. Oh Christ Jesus." Because his hands shook, he vised them around the glass, downed the rest of the whiskey. "Are you sure of this? Are you without a doubt sure of this?"

"I am." After a moment, Roarke crossed over, picked up the bottle. He brought it back and filled Mick's glass again. "He's killed two people who work for me, the second being a friend as well. It scatters the focus, draws the police – in the name of my lovely wife – off any scent there might be around the auction."

"No, no, that's why I'm here. To keep you occupied, to get close. That, and me being one of the few around who could set a workable scheme for a job like this. I was to whet your interest in a deal or two. If your cop wasn't busy on her own, I was to keep the two of you bustling around me on a personal level. Charm her, so to speak. And being right inside the house, I'd know, you see, of any changes you'd be making for the security. In addition to that, I could keep the arm on Magda's boy if he waffled. Liza has him under control, but – "

"Ah, I wondered about her. My cop has been busy on her own, hasn't she, Mick? And myself as well. If they'd succeeded with Summerset today, just how much of my attention do you think I'd have left to give to the auction?"

"I didn't know of this." Mick squared his shoulders, looked Roarke dead in the eye. "I swear that to you on my life. I would never have done this. It was a big job, an exciting one, and it gave me the added boost of finally being able to best you in something. I never could, and always wanted to. You were never like the rest of us, you know. You always had something extra. I wanted that. I'd have stolen from you, Roarke, and enjoyed it. I'd have laughed about it, bragged on it, the rest of my days. But not this. I'd never have taken part in murder."

"That was the part I couldn't get to fit."

"Naples took out Britt and Joe? There's no question of that?"

"None."

"And tried for Summerset as well." Mick nodded. "I see how it is then." He drew a long breath. "There are two men inside. One in your special security, one in the hotel. Monroe and Billick. The job's set for tomorrow. Two in the morning, precisely. At that time a maxibus and a car will have an accident at the east corner near the hotel. The bus will turn over, slide into the jewelry shop. They've hired a hell of a driver. Do you remember Kilcher?"

"I do."

"This is his son, and he's even better than his old man. There'll be a small fire, and an enormous mess. The cops, the security, even the fire department will be out there, dealing with it, handling the looters, and so forth. At the same moment, a delivery van will pull into the proper entrance of the hotel. We'll be six, and armed with tranqs. We'll take out those of your staff we must. I'll be handling your security. I've worked it to jam to give us a twelve-minute window. Couldn't widen it more than that, and that alone took me six months of hideous work.

"Your security's a marvel, and that's a fact. I'd never have made a crack in it without the men on the inside."

"That's little satisfaction at the moment."

"I suppose that's true. Still, I'm likely the only one live and kicking who could have widened that crack on you. So. Each team member has assigned goods to pluck. Every one of them must get it done and be out of the room within ten minutes. Gives them two to get back to the exit point. Anyone not there gets left behind."

He rose, set his glass aside. "I'll get my equipment and discs, so you can see how it's meant to be." He hesitated. "I should have known better than to tie myself up with the likes of Naples. I've no excuses for that mistake, and you've my word I'll do what I can to make up for it. Will you give me over to the cops then?"

Roarke met his eyes, held them. And saw all the miseries. "No."

Eve burst into the house, all but choking on her own rage.

She swung toward the stairs even as Summerset slid into the hall. "Where are they?" she demanded.

"Roarke is in his private office. Lieutenant – "

"Later. Goddamn it." She pounded up the stairs, streaked down the hall. She had a hand on her weapon when she coded herself into Roarke's private room.

He wasn't behind the console, but leaning back against it, his eyes tracking the data and diagrams on his wall screens. His unregistered equipment hummed softly.

"Where's Co

Roarke continued to study, to access. He'd nearly come to the conclusion they'd have managed to pull it off. Son of a bitch. "He isn't here."

"I need to find him, now. The bastard's part of this."

"Yes, I know."

His comment was so mild, she was two beats behind before it sank in. "You know? How long have you known?" She marched up to him, blocking his view of the screens. "What the hell kind of game are you playing here?"

"No game at all."

No, she saw that now. His voice might have been calm, but his eyes weren't. "When did you clue into him?"

"I suspected when we realized the auction items were the target. I told you there are only a few who could handle a job of this nature. He's one of them."

"And you didn't bother to tell me that."

"No, I didn't tell you because I had to be sure. Now I am."

"And you're sure because?"

"I asked him," Roarke said simply. "And he told me. I have his notes and job plans here. They might have done it," he added with a glimmer of admiration leaking through. "If everything had gone perfectly, if there'd been absolutely no mistakes, no unknowns, they might have done it."

"You asked him," Eve repeated. "Fine. Great. Where is he?"

"I don't know. I let him go."

"You – " Now she did choke. It wasn't just fury, but shock and outrage and not a little betrayal. "You just let him walk! He's a key player in my investigation, he's a fucking thief who was about to stab you in the back, and you let him go?"