Vengeance in Death

"Why don't you let me look at the records, with the eye of a veteran cop-spotter?''

"It couldn't hurt." She turned to her computer, ordered dupes of all operational files. "We should have plenty of full views of him on the lobby file. There's not much of his face, but maybe you'll spot something that clicks. You've got to know him, Roarke."

"I'll do what I can."

"I don't know when I'll be home." She handed him the copies. "But don't wait up."

She grabbed a cheese phyllo and an energy bar at a QuickMart and settled for a tube of Pepsi rather than their notoriously poisonous coffee. She carried the miserable meal with her into the second-floor conference room where McNab was heading the electronic sweep.

"Anything?"

"Plenty of hits on mega-links, laser faxes. The building's lousy with high-end electronics. We're checking floor to floor, but there's nothing on the scale of what our guy plays with."

Eve set the bag down, then reached out and turned McNab's face toward her with a firm thumb to his chin. There was a bruising knot on his forehead and a long thin scrap just above his right eye. "Get the MTs to look at that ugly face of yours?"

"Just a bump. Damn dog came at me like an Arena Ball tackle." He shifted in his chair so that the gold rings in his ears jangled. "I'd like to apologize for my insubordination during the operation, Lieutenant."

"No, you wouldn't. You were pissed and you still are." She pulled out her tube of Pepsi, broke the safety seal. "You were wrong, and you still are. So stuff the apology. Don't ever question an order from a superior officer during an operation, McNab, or you'll end up skulking in some little dark room listening to sex noises for a private security hack instead of rising through the ranks of the illustrious EDD."

While his temper bobbed up and down, he meticulously manipulated his sca

"Okay, maybe I'm still a little steamed, and maybe I know I was over the line. I'm lucky if I get out of my cube at Central once a month. This was the closest I've come to action, then you yanked me."

Looking at him, at that young, smooth, eager face, she felt incredibly old and jaded. "McNab, have you ever participated in hand-to-hand other than in training?"

"No, but – "

"Have you ever discharged your weapon at anything other than a heat target?"

His mouth went sulky. "No. So I'm not a warrior."

"Your strengths are right here." She tapped a finger on his sca

Then none too gently, she tapped her finger on the swollen bruise on his forehead. "And action mostly just hurts like a bitch."

"Guys are going to rag me for weeks. Getting taken down by a dog."

"It was a pretty big dog." Sympathetic now, Eve took out the phyllo and gave it to him. "Really big teeth. Lorimar took a bite in the ankle."

"Yeah?" Somewhat cheered, McNab bit into the bread and cheese. "I hadn't heard." A series of beeps had him frowning at the sca

"I'll go check on the door-to-doors," Eve said. "You get any interesting hits, pass them on to me."

"You first, Dallas. Thanks for the food. Say, ah, where's Peabody?"

Eve lifted a brow as she glanced back over her shoulder. "Overseeing the breakdown of equipment in the penthouse at the Arms. She doesn't like you, McNab."

"I know." He flashed a grin. "I find that really attractive in a woman." He turned back to his sca

At midnight, she ordered in a new crew, sent McNab home for eight hours off, and packed it in. It didn't surprise her to find Roarke up, in his office, enjoying a glass of wine while he studied the recordings.

"I had the first team wrap for the night. They were getting punchy."

"You look a bit punchy yourself, Lieutenant. Shall I pour you a glass of wine?''

"No, I don't want anything." She walked over, noted that he paused the recording at the point where McNab made abrupt contact with the stationary panel of the main doors. "I don't think he'd consider that suitable for framing."

"No luck locking in on his communication center?"

"McNab's worried he's shut it down." She rubbed at the stiffness at the base of her neck. "So am I. He could have done it by remote while he was on the run, or contacted someone he's working with. Mira's profile indicates he'd want constant praise and attention during the game, so it's possible he's got a partner – likely a female, strong personality. Authority figure."

"Mother?"

"That would be my first guess. But a remote's just as likely as him having Mommy by his side. He wants to believe he's ru

She stepped forward, closer to the screen, staring hard at the image of the man in the long coat and chauffeur's cap. "It's like a costume," she murmured. "Another part of the game. He's dressing up. It's concealing, but it's also, I don't know, dramatic. Like in a play, and he's the star. But right here, you can see that we've thrown him a cue he wasn't expecting. See the shock, the panic in the body language. His weight's off balance because he took a step back. Instinctive retreat. His free hand's coming up, a defensive gesture. I bet his eyes are moon wide with shock behind the sunshades."

Something caught her, made her frown and step even closer. "Can't see what the hell he's looking at. You can't see where his eyes are focused. Just the angle of his head. Is he looking at Baxter going for his weapon on the other side of the glass? Or is he looking at McNab crash headfirst into the panel?"

"From his angle, you'd see both."

"Yeah. Baxter look like a cop going for his stu

"I'd go for cop," Roarke told her. "Look at the way he moves." He ordered the recorder to rewind thirty seconds, then play. The room erupted with noise so he muted audio. "Watch – it's a textbook cop move. The spin, knees bent, body braced, the right hand sweeping inside the coat at the armpit. Doormen wear beepers on their belts, so his grab's too high for that."

"But it happened fast, look how fast."

"If he knows cops, has had many dealings with them, it could have been enough. McNab doesn't look anything like a cop, doesn't move like one. The only way that would have tipped him is if he recognized Ian, knew him to be a cop."

"McNab doesn't do much field work, as he complained to me tonight. But they're both electronics jocks, so it's not impossible they've brushed up against each other. Damn it, I should have thought of that before I sent him out."

"You're Monday morning quarterbacking, darling Eve."

"What?"

"We really have to do something about your lack of interest in sports other than baseball. It's useless to second-guess yourself here. I watched you run that operation, and you did it with a cool and steady hand."

"I still fumbled." She smiled thinly. "How's that for sports?"

"The fat lady has yet to sing," he said and laughed at her confused stare. "Meaning the game isn't over. But tonight is. You're going to bed."