Delusion in Death

22

“I see her.” From across the street, Eve focused the field glasses through the narrow glass on the restaurant door. “Rear booth, west corner. She’s got Weaver boxed in. Male, brown and brown, late forties, seated on the other side of the booth.”

“Yeah, I got them.” Lowenbaum scanned, judging the crowd, the movement. He glanced left, right. Cops already worked to close off the block, reroute street and foot traffic. Satisfied, he closed his eyes a moment to feel the wind on his cheek, judge the direction and speed.

“Not much of a window,” Eve noted.

“It’s much enough. It’s a busy place. Maybe send a couple guys in, soft clothes, to plow the road. We do that right, we should be able to get off a clean shot.”

“She’s got a weapon on Weaver. Can’t see it, but has to be. Plus, she’s got that shit with her. You drop her from here, she could take out Weaver before she goes down. And she could release the poison.”

Considering, Eve lowered the glasses. “Maybe we get everybody out before it takes effect, or maybe we end up stunning a bunch of delusional civilians trying to kill each other over their ravioli. Or maybe she mixed up some other shit, and we can’t be sure what the fuck it’ll do.”

“That’s a problem,” Lowenbaum said in his easy way as he pulled down his sniper goggles to look at Eve. “Let’s work the problem.”

“Straightforward. You wire me up. I go in, talk to her.”

“And if she’s got a blaster under the table and takes you out?”

“I don’t think so.” Eve could all but hear Roarke’s furious objections behind her. He didn’t have to voice them, the air sizzled with them. “I get to the booth, sit, she knows we’ve got the place locked. She’ll want to negotiate.”

“Rules of play, Dallas. We don’t give her another hostage, much less a cop.”

“I know the rules of play, and sometimes they have to flex. Think of it as a showdown. A—what is it—Mexican standoff.”

“Seriously? It’s an Italian place, but this ain’t gonna be a Roman holiday.”

He made her smile. “Weaver’s just a step for her, a slap. She’s got bigger plans, and central is getting her boy out. She’s got an emotional investment in him, and we can use that. I can use that. I get in, wired, you’ll know what she’s got on her. And I’ve got a better chance of taking her out, close up, without any hazard to civilians. Wire Mira in. She can help me with this.”

“We’ll cover the exits, move in through the kitchen.”

“Yeah, I’m with you there. But somebody’s got to get up close and personal, draw her off Weaver and the man, keep her from releasing the agent.”

“I’m putting my best man—which would be me—on the target. She makes a wrong move, I’m giving myself the green. We got about seventy people in there—unknown number in the kitchen. If necessary, we’ll do a broad range stun, make them all go nighty-night.”

“Let’s see if we can avoid that.”

“She’d know your face.” She turned as Roarke spoke, and saw the hard anger in his eyes. “If she’s got a weapon, as she surely does, what stops her from using it on you while you’re ten feet away?”

“I’m working on that. Peabody, take off those idiot boots.”

“My boots? But—”

“Do you really think a pair of pink cowboy boots disguises you?”

“It’s just the start,” she told Roarke. “Dig out those silly rainbow sunshades,” she told Peabody. “And that scarf.” She tugged on Peabody’s madly striped scarf. “Wrap it around my head or something. Call out the Free-Ager.”

“A moment, Lieutenant.” Without waiting for assent, Roarke took her arm, pulled her aside. “This is foolish.”

“It’s not. I’ve got my magic coat.”

“It doesn’t cover your hard head.”

“Okay, look, we can’t see what she’s got under that damn table-cloth. Maybe she got her hands on a blaster. It’s more likely a knife. She could slice Weaver open any time, but again, it’s more likely she’ll hurt or disable Weaver enough to keep her in there, use the substance and get out. I can draw her attention off Weaver, get her talking. She’ll bargain to get Callaway out. He’s her legacy, her hope for the future.”

“The bargaining can be done from out here.”

“Roarke, there are kids in there. If she releases that shit, we don’t know how fast it works on kids, but it’ll be faster. They’re smaller, lighter. I don’t know, and I’m not risking standing out at a safe distance while kids get poisoned and maybe hack up Mommy’s face with a pasta fork before we can control the situation.”

“Bloody fucking hell.”

“We can get some of them out. Her back’s to the kitchen. We can move some of them out, quietly, while she’s focused on me. I’m the game changer. Right now she thinks she’s in charge. I change the balance, it throws her off. She has to rethink.”

“You go in, I go in.”

“Listen—”

He took her face in his hands. “You go, I go. That’s non-negotiable. If we’re to get blasted to hell or poisoned into lunatics, we do it together.”

“Crap. Crap. You have to look less rich and gorgeous.”

God help him, she made him grin. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Wire him up, too,” she told Lowenbaum. “Peabody, give me those stupid boots.”

“They’re not going to fit you.”

“I’ll manage.”

She stood while Lowenbaum’s e-man fit her with mic and earbud. And shoving her feet into the pink boots learned Peabody was right. They were miserably tight from toe to heel, awkwardly wide. She’d manage.

“Just enough to get me to the table,” she told her partner as Peabody began to wrap the scarf.

“You might as well look good. You’re sure about this?”

“I’m sure the weird scarf and the shades will get me across the room.”

“Dallas.”

“I’m sure. I want you in the back, in the kitchen. We’re going to move people out, and I need you to keep it smooth and quiet. And when I tell you, move in. Not before, Peabody. You, Baxter, Trueheart, move in on my go, and when Lowenbaum clears it. Not before.”

“Understood.”

She leaned in just a little, lowered her voice. “Lowenbaum will stun me if he needs to. I’m counting on you to take care of Roarke.”

“Oh, jeez.”

“If it goes south, you take him down, get him out. That’s not just an order, Peabody, it’s a request from a friend. Get him down and out. Promise me.”

“I do. I will. And you, too.”

“Lowenbaum’s men will come for the cop first. I’m not worried about it.”

Much, she thought as she stuck on the rainbow shades. “How stupid do I look?”

“Actually, you look totally chill.” Peabody gave the trailing edge of the scarf a little flip. “Sort of urban-bohemian chic.”

“God. Doctor Mira? Are you there?”

“Yes.” The voice, tight, tense, came through the earbud. “And I feel this is an unnecessary risk.”

“A calculated one. I’m covered. There’s a toddler in a damn booster seat smearing spaghetti sauce on his face ten feet away from the target. Once I get in position, feed me. Pull me back if I head in the wrong direction with her. I want to keep her engaged until we get as many civilians to safety as possible.”

“She’s a soldier first. She’ll sacrifice herself for her mission.”

“I’m counting on that mission priority being Callaway. Lowenbaum, are we set?”

“In position.”

She looked around. They’d worked fast, barricading the area. Already lookie-loos hugged the barricades, ready for some entertainment. Lowenbaum stretched over his shooting stand, weapon aimed. “If you have to stun me, don’t go for the body shot. The coat’s lined with body armor.”

“No shit.”

“None. I’ll show you later.”

“Lots of traffic inside,” he told Eve. “Waitstaff moving by the booth. The table in front of it partially blocks the target. If you can move the interference, I’d appreciate it.”

“On the list.” She turned as Roarke came toward her, had to roll her eyes.

He’d ditched the suit jacket, the top coat for somebody’s bunged-up fake leather jacket. He’d pulled his hair back in a tail, added a red, I ♥ NY ski cap.

“How much did you pay for that ridiculous hat?”

“Entirely too much.”

“Well, you don’t look so rich anyway.” She took his hands. “Let’s go bag this bitch. On the move, Lowenbaum.”

“Copy that.”

“I bet the pasta’s good here,” Roarke commented as they crossed the street.

“Maybe we’ll get some to go when we’re done. Clear visual on target from here,” she said when they’d reached the door. “Entering building now.”

“Team Alpha, go.”

Into the kitchen, Eve thought as they entered the happy noise, the engaging scents. She slid her hand in her pocket as the cheerful-eyed maitre d’ approached.

“Welcome.”

She turned up her badge before he could continue. “Focus on me. What’s your name?”

“I—Franco. Is there a problem?”

“There is, and I need you to keep on me, listen, and do exactly what I say. Are you a steady sort of guy, Franco?”

“I—yes, I think I am.”

“Stay steady. There are cops moving into the kitchen right now. They’re going to get your staff to safety. No, keep looking at me. There’s a woman in the booth—west corner, rear.”

“Ms. Weaver, but—”

“The woman beside her. She’s dangerous, probably armed. Steady, Franco. When we’re at the booth, when I draw her attention, I want you to—quietly, very quietly, begin to move the people at the tables on her blind side out through the kitchen. One table at a time. You can tell them they’ve been chosen for some special deal, whatever it takes. Get them into the kitchen, and we’ll take them from there. Do the same with your staff, one person at a time. Quietly. Can you do that, Franco?”

“Yes. But Ms. Weaver—”

“I’ll take care of her. Now, first thing. The table directly in front of the booth, the one with the kid with sauce all over him and the older kid pretending to eat his vegetables? Move them out now. You can make a fuss there. You have something special for the family in the kitchen. Something for the kids, right? Big smiles, big surprise. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Do it now—happy face, Franco.”

His smile looked a little sick, but Eve thought it would pass. She let him reach the table. He actually clapped his hands—nice touch. Eve watched Gina’s attention flick toward him, assess, then veer away.

“We’re going in,” she said as the family—lots of kid excitement—rose from the table.

She wandered through, caught Gina’s glance to and away. The minute the kitchen door closed behind the family, she zeroed for the booth.

“Nancy! Nancy Weaver, is that you!”

She let out a laugh, took advantage of Gina’s momentary surprise and plopped down next to the man. “Who’d’ve thought I’d run into you this way. How the hell are you?”

“I—I’m fine.” Weaver’s eyes widened with recognition, but she held surprisingly steady. “Just fine.”

“You look just fine,” she said as Roarke took a chair from the vacated table, angled it beside Eve.

“I’m sorry.” Gina spoke coldly. “But this is a business meeting. You’ll have to catch up another time.”

“Oh, don’t be such a party pooper, Gina. I’ve got a weapon aimed at you under the table. Use yours on Nancy, make any wrong move, and I use it. Let’s just talk.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Franco murmur to the people at a side table out of Gina’s range of vision. To keep attention focused, Eve pulled off the scarf, the shades. “That’s better.”

“I have enough Wrath of God on me to turn this place into Armageddon.”

“Then we all try to kill each other before the SWAT team stationed outside stuns us senseless. And where do we go from there? Let’s avoid all that mess. Put your weapon on the table.”

“Not a chance. I’ll cut her open like a ripe peach first.”

A knife then, better than a blaster.

“Nancy’s not important,” Mira said in Eve’s ear. “Just a corporate shill.”

“You’d just be cutting open another corporate lackey. So what? And the minute you do, you’re down. You’re too smart to lose your leverage.”

Gina’s sharply honed face held nothing but cold determination. “I’ve got three vials of my leverage with me.”

“Show her respect,” Mira advised. “Open negotiations.”

“You’ve got the hammer there. We want to avoid another incident. There are kids in here, Gina.”

And she smiled. “That’s right, and they’re more susceptible. You won’t be able to stop them fast enough. You’ll stun them, open yourself up to outrage.”

“Got me there. What do you want?”

“I want this police state overturned. I want people like him—” She pointed to Roarke. “I know who you are now. I want people like him on the street and all the money and material possessions he’s so greedily grasped destroyed.”

“She’s testing you,” Mira said. “Draw her toward the grandson, the personal.”

“That’s above my pay grade. Tell me something I can make happen. It’s on the line for me, too, Gina. Let’s be real. You hit this place, all these people, I look like a moron when I’ve just announced an arrest. Lew goes down, sure—and you—but so do I.”

“I want to speak to my grandson.”

“I may be able to arrange that, sure.”

“Here. Face-to-face. I want him brought here.”

“That’ll take some time and doing. And what then? If I pull that off, he’s in the hot zone, like the rest of us. Maybe you don’t care about that, about infecting him.”

“I want to see him. Here. Then the two of us are going to walk out of here with the corporate lackey and the greedy bastard you married as shields.”

“Well, frankly, the corporate lackey’s dispensable, but I’m pretty attached to the greedy bastard.”

“How can you say that?” Under the table, Weaver tapped Eve’s foot twice, an acknowledgment. “You’re the police. You’re supposed to protect me.”

“Grow up,” Gina snapped. “Cops are cops, corrupt with power. Bring Lewis here, arrange for transportation to my shuttle—which will be clear—or I turn this place into a madhouse, complete with homicidal kids.”

“You should know how this works, Gina. Give a little to get a little. You’re asking me to release a mass murderer—well, two counting you—give up two civilians, and what are you offering me?

“Let’s start with a trade,” Eve suggested. She laid her weapon on the table. “Mine for yours. Take mine, it’s less lethal, but it’ll get the job done. Give me the knife.”

“What the hell, Dallas,” Lowenbaum demanded.

“A show of cooperation and trust,” Eve said, eyes on Gina. “I’d rather you didn’t spill Nancy’s blood all over the floor.”

When Gina reached for the weapon, Eve slapped her hand down on it. “Let me see the knife.”

Eyes flat, but with a smirk playing around the corners of her mouth, Gina pulled the knife out from under the table. “I’ve got the vials in my other hand,” she warned. “Try anything, I toss them down, break them. That’s no slow infection, and triple the usual dose. The children in here? They won’t just kill, they’ll die. The infection will kill them, or at the least cause brain damage.”

“How do I know you’ve got anything but bullshit in your other hand?”

Gina lifted it, twisted her wrist to show the three vials. “If I drop them, you’ve got a bigger mess than this bitch’s blood on your hands.”

“Okay.” To show cooperation, Eve raised both her hands—and gave Gina the opportunity to grab the weapon.

Gina rammed it against Weaver’s throat. “You know what this will do, on full, if I fire. She’s dead.”

“You don’t want to do that, Gina.” Eve let her voice waver a bit, stalling, stalling. “That’s no way to get Lew out.”

“Bring him here! And you.” She jutted her chin at Roarke. “Stand up, move here, right here.”

“Do as she says,” Eve said quietly. “She’s got the advantage.”

“That’s right.”

“He’s blocking my shot,” Lowenbaum said when Roarke stood.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. We’ll keep this under control. Trust me.”

“Trust you?” Gina laughed. “Fuck you. Tell them to bring Lew. I want them to back off—all the fucking cops. I’m walking out of here with my grandson, this bitch, and your man.”

“Roarke.”

“It’s all right.” He met Eve’s eyes. “I understand.”

“You understand nothing,” Gina hurled back, “but you will.”

“Take me.” With a plea in his voice, Marty leaned forward. “Let Nancy go, and take me. I’m in charge. She takes orders from me. I’m the one you want.”

“You want me to take you? You want to be the hero? Get out of the booth. You, cop, out and on your knees, hands behind your head. Move your ass,” she ordered Weaver, sliding out to stand, shielded from the narrow glass door by Roarke.

“What are you doing, Eve?” Mira demanded. “Tell her you’ll start arrangements for the grandson.”

“I don’t want anybody hurt. That’s priority.” Slowly Eve eased out of the booth. “That’s why I had nearly everyone taken out of the restaurant. Look around, Gina. We’ve only got about twenty people left in here, and oops, they’re heading out the front.”

“Then this is on you.” She pulled the trigger. Nancy let out a scream, then stared, open-mouthed.

“I guess I forgot to mention I disengaged that one.” Eve reached for the weapon in her pocket. “But not this one.”

“Stun me!” Gina shrieked it. “Go ahead, and these vials hit the floor. You’ll turn that weapon against your own man.”

“It’s done, Gina. Drop them and my buddies outside will see to it we all take an enforced nap. Not pleasant, but I can live with it.”

“Speak for yourself,” Roarke commented.

“Try it. See if it’s fast enough. Try it! Stun me and find out who lives with it.”

Eve had a quick flash from her dream, of her mother’s face, of that same vicious hate. “I’m not going to stun you. Let’s try this way.” She turned her weapon around, as if to offer it. In the instant Gina glanced down, Eve used her left—a quick, hard, bare-knuckled jab. And found it satisfying to see blood spurt from Gina’s nose.

As she fell back, her hand opened. The vials slipped out. Braced for it, Roarke made the dive, caught them an inch from the floor.

“Just in case,” he said.

“Nice fielding.”

“Thanks. Now I have a bit of a headache. Kidding,” he said quickly when she swung her weapon in his direction. “Just kidding.”

“Ha ha. Move in! Lowenbaum,” she continued as she stepped to Gina, rolled the dazed, moaning woman over to restrain her. “Target’s secured.”

“So I see. All teams, target’s down and secure. Stand down.”

“Thanks for the assist, Doctor Mira.”

“You might’ve given me a clearer picture.”

“Some of it was spur. It was her eyes. I played off her eyes.” Eve turned Gina over again, hauled her up to sit. And looked in her eyes again. “You’re old, and you’re slow—physically and mentally. You lost your way—maybe all those years of living off the fat—the fat you claim to despise. You’d have infected kids, and kids were the new hope, the foundation, the beginning. But you’d have infected them to get to your own. It was never about vengeful gods or Revelation with you. It was about the blood and the death, and your twisted revolution. You let me see that, and gave me the edge.”

“Your end-time will come.”

“Yeah, it will, but you won’t be part of it. Odds are, given you’ve got about a half century on me, yours’ll come first. Whatever time you’ve got left, you’ll spend in a cage. Just like your grandson. Just like Menzini’s legacy.”

“There’ll be others.”

“You keep thinking that. Baxter, you and Trueheart can take the old lady in.”

“Happy to serve.”

“She knows the formula,” Roarke murmured.

“Yeah, which is why Agent Teasdale and HSO will arrange for very special accommodations for her. I think Menzini left a vacancy.”

“Harsh.”

“I imagine it will be.”

“And what would you like me to do with these?” He held out the vials.

“Christ. Let’s get that biohazard team in here, asap! Peabody, alert Teasdale re our new prisoner. The NYPSD gratefully passes her, and the processing of her properties, to HSO.”

“Got that, all over the place. But … can I have my boots back?” Eve sat to pull them off. “Ouch. I’m hungry,” she realized. “Punching crazy old ladies makes me hungry.”

“I’ll wager they have very nice cannolis.” Roarke smiled at Peabody as she pulled on her boots.

“Hot damn!”

“I’d like to buy you dinner.” Weaver sat, huddled against Marty, while an MT checked her out.

“Rain check. You were right about being good in a crisis, when it counts. You handled yourself, both of you.”

“I was terrified. I thought I was dead.”

“You’re not, and you handled it. We’ll need you to come in, make a statement. Tomorrow’s soon enough.”

“We’ll be there,” Marty assured her.

“Was Lew—was he always what we know he is now, or was it that woman? Did she make him what he is?”

“I’d say some of both. Go on home.” She left them to walk to Lowenbaum, shake hands—and take the boots he carried from him. “Thanks.”

“I had the shot.”

“Too many civilians in potential harm’s way, and I wanted to maneuver her so we had at least a chance of getting the vials.”

“Nice left jab.”

“It’s a favorite.”

Someone called out, “LT!” and both Eve and Lowenbaum turned.

“That one’s mine,” Lowenbaum said.

“Guy back here wants to feed us. Is that a go?”

“What the hell. I could eat. Catch you next time, Dallas.”

Roarke moved to her, stroked a hand down her back. “Which home are we headed to?”

“Central first. I need to tie this up, talk to Teasdale—and pay Lew a quick visit. I want to tell him, to his face, his granny won’t be sending for him. It’s petty, I know. But I deserve a little treat after all this.”

“Speaking of treats. I need a moment in the kitchen.”

“You’re about to get a dozen cannolis,” Eve told Peabody when he walked off.

“Aww.” Peabody flexed her booted feet. “I won’t think about cannoli ass until tomorrow. Maybe not even then.”

“You called it right on her feelings for Callaway. Weak spot.”

“Most of us have them.” Peabody pushed to her feet. “Ms. Weaver, sir, I can arrange for an officer to take you home.”

“Thanks.” Weaver tipped her head to Marty’s shoulder. “I’m just going to sit here a minute until I’m sure my legs will carry me. Then I’d like the walk.” She tipped her face to Marty’s. “All right?”

“Sounds pretty good right now.”

Roarke came out of the kitchen with a large to-go bag.

“What’s that?” Eve demanded.

“Quite a bit of food, I believe. They’re boxing up your cannolis, Peabody.”

“Yum. Thanks.”

Roarke turned to Eve, and with discretion, he covered the recorder she wore. “About that so much sex.”

“It’s still on the agenda. Peabody, finish up here. I’m going in to deal with the official transfer. Then go home. You’re clear.”

“Sing hallelujah.”

“A question,” Roarke said as Eve switched off her recorder. He took her arm and led her outside. “You disabled your primary weapon. What about your secondary?”

“Rigged so it wouldn’t go above medium stun. You can’t kill anybody, even with direct jugular contact, on medium. It seemed safer, in case we got infected.”

“I agree. You know I had a weapon.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sent him a sidelong glance as they reached the car. “Rigged to medium stun?”

“It seemed safer.” He caught her face in his hands, and despite her quick wince in case any cops watched, kissed her, long, tender, deep. “I want to keep you, till the end of days.”

“I can live with that. And I’m damn glad this day is about to end.”

She got in the car, flexed her aching toes. And while he drove, adjusted both her weapons to official ranges.

It was safer that way.