Survivor in Death

10

AFTER MIRA AND HER SECURITY ESCORT WERE cleared through the gates, Eve met her at the door. Since she had the extra men, she ordered security to do a patrol around the grounds, with electronic sweep.

“You're being very cautious,” Mira commented. “Do you really expect them to try an invasion on this house?”

“Newman doesn't know where I took the kid, so trying a hit here isn't the next logical step.” She swept a glance down the hall. Trueheart had Nixie in the game room, but that didn't mean the kid couldn't come wandering out. “Why don't we step outside for a minute?”

Eve led the way through the parlor and the doors to the side terrace. She had a momentary pause when she saw a little silver droid, a low, shiny box, busily sucking up fallen leaves. “Huh, how about that.” At her voice, it glided off the terrace and slid down one of the paths into the garden. “Wonder what it does with them once it sucks them up.”

“I think it chops them into a kind of mulch, or compost. Dennis talks about getting something like it, then doesn't. I think he secretly enjoys raking the leaves by hand.”

Eve thought of Mira's kind-eyed, absentminded husband. “Why?”

“Mindless work that gets him outdoors. Of course, if we had grounds this extensive to deal with, it'd be a different story. It's lovely out here, isn't it, even so late in the year with so much of the gardens fading away toward winter.”

Eve looked over the gardens, through the ornamental and shade trees, past arbors and fountains to the thick stone walls. “Lotof ways in, lot of ways out, but as secure as it gets.”

“And still your home. That makes it difficult.”

“I made the call. Look, it's cooler out here than I thought. You okay for a minute?”

“I'm fine.” Mira wore a jacket, and Eve was currently in shirtsleeves. “It must be inconvenient, having so many people in your home.”

“Place is starting to smell like Central. Anyway, if they click on the idea Nixie's here, they might see it as a challenge, get revved at the idea. The bigger the mission, the bigger the payoff.”

“But you don't think they know Nixie's here.”

“I think your average GPS rep would spill data out like a gushing pipe under torture. And I wouldn't hold it against her. Best I can speculate, she doesn't know the witness is here, but knows I took her and bypassed regs. They could put it together. I would.”

“Taking a civilian witness into your personal residence isn't usual, or even standard procedure. But yes, they might put it together. And you also assume that under extreme duress, I would also gush like a broken pipe.”

“It's not a reflection on your standards or your integrity.”

“No.” Mira brushed back a wave of hair the breeze blew across her cheek. “And I don't take it as such. I imagine you're right. While I'd like to think I'd suffer torture and painful death to protect another, it's much more likely I'd succumb. So you have me and my home under surveillance and security. Sensible of you, and I apologize for objecting.”

“I had you under security before, and Palmer got to you.”

Mira as psychologist and profiler and Eve as primary had helped put Palmer away. His revenge spree after his prison escape the previous winter had nearly cost Mira her life. Could have cost both of them, Eve remembered, when he'd abducted Mira and caged her in a basement to lure Eve to his sick New Year's Eve celebration.

“He didn't serve you a tea party, either, and you stood up.”

“He just wanted me to suffer and die. In this case… where is Nixie?”

“I've got Trueheart riding her. I didn't know where you wanted to set up with her.”

“Where do you think she's most comfortable?”

Eve stared, blank. “Ah, I don't know. She did okay in the parlor last time.”

“A stunning room, and certainly comfortable. But maybe a little intimidating for a child used to less opulence. Where does she spend most of her time?”

“I don't know that either, exactly. She hangs with Summerset a lot, but he's all over the damn house. Like termites. She and Trueheart were hanging out in the game room before.”

“Game room?”

“Roarke's got a damn room for everything. Fancy toys, you know, arcade stuff.” She gave a shrug, though she had to admit, privately, she got a charge out of the deal. “A lot of classic game stuff.”

“Child friendly, then. That sounds very good.”

“Okay.”

When Eve didn't turn back to the door, Mira asked, “How do you feel she's coping?”

“Had a nightmare last night. A real screamer. Thought they were coming for her, hiding in the closet, under the bed.”

“Natural enough. I'd be more concerned if she wasn't afraid. If she was repressing.”

“Like I did.”

“You coped in your own way.” And because they'd come quite a distance in the last two years, Mira touched a hand to Eve's arm. “And still do. This child has a firm foundation, which has been broken out from under her. But that foundation will mean she'll most likely have an easier time regaining her footing. With counseling, with care, and a return to normalcy.”

Eve gathered herself. “There's a thing. The situation she's in, the one I was in, they're nothing alike. Not even close. But-”

“A young traumatized child.”

“She had murder done around her. I did murder.”

“Why do you call it murder?” Mira's voice sharpened. “You know very well it was nothing of the kind. You were a child fighting for her life. If one of those men had found Nixie, and through some miracle she'd been able to kill him, save herself, would you call it murder? Lieutenant.”

“No.” Eve closed her eyes, bore down before the image could form. “No. I know I did what I had to, like she did what she had to. I killed, she hid.”

“Eve.” Her tone gentle now, Mira laid a hand on Eve's cheek. “Eve. You had nowhere to hide.”

“No, I had nowhere.” She had to step away from that touch, from that quiet understanding, or dissolve. “It's good she did. Good she was smart enough to do what she did, strong enough to crawl through blood to survive.”

“And so did you, so were you smart enough and strong enough. And terrified enough. You can't help seeing yourself, as you were, when you deal with her.”

“I did see myself. When I found her, huddled in that bathroom, blood all over her. For a minute, I saw myself in that fucking freezing room inDallas. And I nearly walked away from her. Hell, I nearly ran away from her.”

“But you didn't. And what you felt is normal. What similarities you see-”

“I'm projecting. I know the term.” She felt temper rise up in her, shoved it back. “I'm handling it. I'm telling you because I figure you should know there's a thing. Off and on.”

“And I expect you to tell me if it becomes too much to handle. For your sake as well as hers. At this point, I believe your empathy with her is helpful-for her. She senses it, and it adds to her sense of safety. You're not just an authority figure. You're her savior.”

Eve turned to the door, opened it. “She saved herself.”

After going back inside, Eve had to stand for a moment, orient herself and bring the location of the game room into her head.

“If you need to talk about this further-”

“I'll let you know.” She closed the door on it. “This way. We keep her on monitor. Got a homer on her.”

“No precaution is overdone, in my opinion.”

“On authority figures, I talked with her legal guardians. Linnie Dyson's parents. They're still pretty torn up. I thought if you talked to them it might come easier than having a cop on their doorstep again.”

“I'll do what I can. It would be good for Nixie, certainly, to see them, to talk to them. And it would help them as well.”

Eve paused. She could hear the beeps and bells of machines. They'd left the door to the game room open. “Listen, before you go in. Grabbing up Newman like that. It was ass covering, and a logical step. But it was strutting, too. Daylight, in front of witnesses. Pulling off something that risky, it's going to juice you up. Coolheaded, cold-blooded, organized planners, sure, but you're going to feel the juice.”

“Those who, even routinely, perform in risky professions or situations get the adrenaline kick. It's part of the reason they do what they do.”

“And the more they get out of Newman, the bigger the rush.”

“Yes.”

Eve let out a deep sigh. “She's dead, isn't she? As soon as they determine they've gotten all the information out of her, there's no reason to keep her alive.”

“Unfortunately, I agree. You couldn't have saved her.”

“I could've thought ahead. I could've ordered this protection lockdown sooner on all connected parties. But I didn't.” Restless, she moved her shoulders. “Hindsight doesn't change anything, so I'll think ahead now.”

She gestured toward the room. “They're in there. You can tell by the insanity of noise.”

“You should come in with me. She needs to see you routinely,” Mira continued when Eve instinctively stepped back. “To remember me in connection to you, so that she's comfortable with me. Once she's seen you, you can go.”

“All right. Jeez.”

Nixie was standing on a stool and pushing the buttons for the flippers on a pinball machine. The one, Eve noted, with cops and robbers-Roarke's particular favorite.

Trueheart was cheering her on, and looked about two years older than his charge.

“You got it now, you got it! Blast 'em good, Nix. In pursuit, armed suspects! You rock.”

The tiniest smile tugged at her cheeks, but her eyes were focused, her brow knitted in fierce concentration.

Eve smelled popcorn, and saw a bowl of it on one of the tables. The wall screen was on, volume up to scream, with one of Mavis's videos blaring. Mavis Freestone herself, in little more than a sparkle of paint, cavorted on that screen with what looked to be a number of mostly naked pirates. Black patches weren't just worn over the eye in Mavis's world, Eve observed.

She recognized the song-so to speak. Something about having your heart sunk and your love shipwrecked.

“I'm not sure that video, however entertaining, is appropriate for a girl Nixie's age.”

“Huh?” Eve looked back at Mira. “Oh, well, shit. Am I supposed to turn it off?”

“Never mind.” Mira patted Eve's hand, and waited until Nixie lost the ball.

“I still didn't get high score.”

“Beat the pants off of me,” Trueheart reminded her.

“But I can't beat Roarke. Maybe he cheats.”

“Wouldn't put it past him,” Eve said. “But I've watched him on that thing. You just can't beat him.”

She'd hoped the casual, somewhat cheerful tone would keep Nixie in the game mood. But as soon as the kid stepped down from the stool, she stared at Eve, the question in her gaze clear.

“No.” Eve spoke tersely now. “Not yet. When I get them, you'll be the first to know.”

“Hello, Nixie.” Mira stepped up to the machine. “You may not have gotten high score, but that looks very impressive to me.”

“It's not good enough.”

“When it's the best you can do, it's good enough. But maybe Roarke will play it with you sometime. Maybe he'll show you some of his tricks.”

A spark of interest lit her face. “Do you think?”

“You can ask him and see. Hello, Officer Trueheart.”

“Dr. Mira. Nice to see you.”

“Do you know all the police?” Nixie wanted to know.

“No, not all. But quite a few. I'd like to talk to you again, Nixie, but first I wonder if you could show me how to play that machine. It looks like fun.”

“I guess. If you want.”

“I do. I'll need to turn off the screen first.”

“But it's Mavis. She's the ult.”

“Oh, I think so, too.” Mira smiled at the cool suspicion in Nixie's eyes. “I have quite a few of her discs myself. Did you know Lieutenant Dallas and Mavis are friends? Very good friends.”

“Get back!” Then she bit her lip. “Excuse me, I'm not supposed to sass adults.”

“That's all right. You were just surprised. Eve?”

“Huh?” She'd been wondering why seeing a mostly naked Mavis, and company, on-screen was inappropriate for a kid who'd seen murder up close and personal. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, Mavis and I are pals.”

“You talk to her, in person?”

“Well, sure.”

“Does she ever come here, right to the house?”

“All the time.” Eve was treated to that long, unblinking stare again. Shifted her stance. Thought about security and procedure. Felt her bones start to burn under that stare. “Listen, if I can swing it, and she's not busy, I'll see if she can come by sometime. You can meet her and… whatever.”

“For real?”

“No, for false. Jesus, kid.”

“You're not supposed to swear in front of me.” Nixie informed her of this, quite primly.

“Then turn around so I can swear behind you. You straight here now?” Eve asked, just a little desperately, of Mira. “I've got work.”

“We're fine.”

“Trueheart, with me.”

“Yes, sir. See you later, Nixie.”

But before she got to the door, Nixie trotted up behind her. “Dallas. They all call youDallas,” she said when Eve looked back. “Except for her. For the doctor.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Are you going away to work?”

“No, I'm going to work here for a while.”

“Okay.” She walked back to Mira. “I'll show you how to play now.”

Awhile” was hours. McNab might've exaggerated about their ears bleeding, but Eve thought her eyes might. She ran search after search, waiting for names to cross. When the sun went down and the light in her office dimmed, she programmed more coffee, and kept going.

“Food.” Roarke walked in. “You've sent your team home for food, to recharge, to rest. Do the same for yourself.”

“There's going to be a match. Has to be.”

“And the computer can continue the runs while you eat. We're going downstairs.”

“Why down-oh.” She scrubbed her hands over her face. “Right. What are we supposed to talk to her about now?”

“I'm sure we'll think of something.”

“You know what? She's a little scary. I think all of that breed is. Kids I mean. It's like they know stuff you've forgotten, but they still hammer you with questions. She rocked up, though, when Mira told her I was friends with Mavis.”

“Ah.” He sat on the corner of the desk. “A Mavis fan. Considerable conversation to be mined there.”

“And she wants you to play pinball with her. She's got a competitive streak, seems like. She's a little bent she can't meet your scores.”

“Really?” His smile bloomed. “I'd enjoy that. I'll take her down for a bit after dinner. Good practice for when we have a brood of our own.”

She didn't pale, but her eyes did go glassy. “Are you trying to wig me?”

“It's fairly irresistible. Come on.” He held out a hand. “Be a good girl and come to dinner.”

Before she could rise, her 'link beeped. “Minute,” she said, and noted the commander's home data on the ID. “It's Whitney.” Without thinking about it she straightened up in the chair, squared her shoulders. “Dallas.”

“Lieutenant. The safe house on Ninety-second has been hit.”

“Ninety-second.” Not trusting her mental file, she flipped her fingers over the keyboard to bring up the data. “Prestonand Knight.”

“They're both down.”

Now she did pale. “Down, sir?”

“DOS.” His face was grim, his voice was flat. “Security was compromised. Both officers were terminated. Report to the scene immediately.”

“Yes, sir. Commander, the other locations-”

“Additional units have been dispatched. Reports are coming in. I'll meet you on-scene.”

When the screen went blank, she sat just as she was. Sat just as she was when Roarke came around the desk to lay his hand on her shoulder.

“I hand-picked them. Preston and Knight. Because they were good, solid cops. Good instincts. If there was going to be a hit on one of the locations, I wanted solid cops with good instincts covering them.”

“I'm sorry, Eve.”

“Didn't have to move a wit from that location. Didn't have anybody there, but it was one of the addresses Newman should have known, so it had to be covered. She's dead, too, by now. Stone dead. Tally's up to eight.”

She rose then, checked her weapon harness. “Two good cops. I'm going to hunt them down like dogs.”

She didn't argue when he said he was going with her. She wanted him behind the wheel until she was more sure of her control.

As she jogged down the stairs, pulled her jacket on, Nixie came out into the foyer. “You're supposed to come to dinner now.”

“We have to go out.” There was a firestorm raging in Eve's head she'd yet to be able to shut down to cold.

“Out to dinner?”

“No.” Roarke stepped to Nixie, brushed a hand lightly over her hair. “The lieutenant has work. I'm going to help, but we'll be back as soon as we can.”

She looked at him, then focused on Eve. “Is somebody else dead?”

She started to fob it off, even to lie, but decided on truth. “Yes.”

“What if they come while you're gone? What if the bad guys come when you're not here? What-”

“They can't get in.” Roarke said it so simply it could be taken as nothing less than fact. “And look here.” He took a small 'link out of his pocket as he crouched down to her level. “You keep this. If you're afraid, you should tell Summerset or one of the police we have in the house. But if you can't tell them, you push this. Do you see?”

She moved closer, her blonde hair brushing his black. “What does it do?”

“It will signal me. You can push this, and my 'link will beep twice, and I'll know it's you, and you're afraid. But don't use it unless you really have to. All right?”

“Can I push it now, to see if it works?”

He turned his head to smile at her. “A very good idea. Go ahead.”

She pressed her finger on the button he'd shown her, and the 'link still in his pocket beeped twice. “It works.”

“It does, yes. It'll fit right in your pocket. There.” He slipped it in for her, then straightened. “We'll be back as soon as we can.”

Summerset was there, of course, hovering a few feet back in the hall. Roarke sent him their own signal as he put on his coat. “Lieutenant,” he said, turning. “I'm with you.”

When Summerset stepped forward to take Nixie's hand, she waited until the door shut. “Why does he call her 'Lieutenant'? Why doesn't he call her 'Dallas' like most everybody else?”

“It's a kind of endearment between them.” He gave Nixie's hand a little squeeze. “Why don't we eat in the kitchen tonight?”

It wasn't rage. Eve wasn't sure there was a word for what gripped the throat, the belly, the head, the bowels when you looked down at the slaughter of men you'd sent into battle. Men you'd sent to their death. Going down in the line was a risk they all took. But knowing that didn't loosen the grip, not when she'd been the one to give them their last orders.

The other cops were quiet, a silent wall. The scene had been secured. Now it was up to her.

The safe house was a post-Urban Wars construction. Cheap, never meant to last. But it had stood, a narrow box of two stories, bumped up against a few more narrow boxes that were all dwarfed and outclassed by the sturdiness of the buildings that had survived the wars, and the sleekness of those built since the hurried, harried aftermath.

She knew the city had bought this, and others, on the cheap. Maintained them on a shoestring. But the security was better than decent, with full-panning cams, alarms backed up by alarms.

Still, they'd gotten in. Not only gotten in, but had taken out two seasoned cops.

Knight's weapon was still holstered, butPreston 's was drawn, lying useless at the base of the stairs while he was sprawled and bloody on them.

Knight's body was facedown, a full stride out of the kitchen. A broken plate, spilled coffee, a veggie ham on rye were scattered in front of him.

The miserly entertainment screen was showing an Arena Ball game. The security screen was black as death.

“Took Knight first.” Her voice was slightly hoarse, but she continued to record the scene and her impressions. “Took him coming out of the kitchen. Surprised him. If they'd takenPreston, Knight would've come out with his weapon drawn. Preston heads down, ready, but they take him.”

She crouched, picked up the weapon. “Got a blast off, at least one, before he went down. Officer, start a canvass. I want to know if anyone heard weapons' fire. If they heard shouts. If they saw a fucking cockroach pass this way.”

“Lieutenant-”

She merely turned her head, and the expression on her face had the uniform nodding. “Yes, sir.”

“Cut their throats-their favorite game. But they didn't cut two cops' throats without a fight. Had to disable first. Long-range stunners,” she said, studying the faint singe onPreston 's shirt. “That's what they had. No chances this time. Not just killing little kids. So they come in the front. God damn how did they get through? How did they compromise this system so fast two cops are caught with their pants down?”

“It's a standard police system,” Roarke said quietly because he heard more than rage in her voice. He heard pain. “A good system, but standard issue for cop houses. If they had the kind of knowledge we believe, they could have set for this, taken it out, got through the door in under two minutes. Very likely considerably under two minutes with the equipment they must have at their disposal.”

“These were good cops,” she reminded him. “Too good to sit still for a breach like this. Knight's in the damn kitchen making a sandwich. There's a security monitor in there. There are security monitors upstairs. Screen goes out, you go straight to Code Red. So it didn't go out. Not at first. Why is Knight upstairs?”

She stepped over the body, over the blood, and went up to the second floor.

There were two bedrooms, one bath. All windows were privacy screened, barred, and wired. She looked at the 'link in the first bedroom, crossed to it and replayed the last incoming.

It was audio only, and it was her voice.

“Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. The suspects are contained. Repeat, the suspects are contained and being transported. Stand down and report to Central.”

“Fucking A.” Eve muttered.

“Lieutenant?” There was puzzlement, but no alarm inPreston 's voice. “You're on the house 'link.”

“I'm aware of that. Did you copy your orders?”

“Yes, sir, but-”

“Dallasout.”

“Well, shit.”Preston 's voice was perturbed now, and he didn't immediately end the transmission on his end. “Yo, Knight! Dallas collared the bastards… How the hell do I know, she was her usual chatty self. Make me a damn sand-”

There was a blasting sound, a shout, then the sound of running feet.

“Voice simulator,” Roarke said from behind her. “There was a tinny quality to it, and the lack of inflection in your tone. I suspect, if he had another moment or two, he'd have considered that, and checked in with you.”

“One working the simulator, two coming in. Pull one of them up here with the 'link call, keep him occupied just long enough. Good surveillance equipment, maybe body heat sensors. Knew where they were. One up, one down. Took Knight before he could blink, butPreston got a stream off. They've homed in on him, though, so he's down before he can signal there's trouble.”

“If they had sensors, they'd have known there were only two people here. Both adults.”

She tagged the 'link for EDD. “Some of the safe houses have cold rooms, just to screw with that kind of surveillance. Subject under protection can be in the cold room. No point in not checking that out, once you've got the locations.”

She headed out, and down. Whitney came in the front as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Commander.”

“Lieutenant.” He nodded at Roarke, then crossed to the first body. He said nothing. Then, continuing to look at his fallen men, spoke in a voice dangerously soft. “They don't yet know the wrath. But they will. Report.”

She went through the steps, reporting, recording, collecting, and repressed the storm inside. She stood over Morris as he conducted his on-scene exam. “Stunned first. Midbody hit on both.”

“Preston would have been four or five steps down. He got off a stream,” Eve added. “Might've caught one of them. There's no sign of a hit on the walls, anywhere in the room. Crime Scene ran over it. No residue. No wasted shots here,” she noted. “Everyone who fired hit something they were aiming at.”

“My guess would be he crumbled more than fell. I'll know more when I get him in, but the bruising, the position of the body indicates he was thrust back by the stream, then folded, slid. His throat slit where he lay.”

“They had to lift Knight's head to cut him. Blasted back, plate and cup flying. Hits the floor and rolls facedown.”

She walked back to the front door. “Came in together, one high, one low. It's low guy who takes Knight, from the angle of the hit. High hitsPreston. Moving fast, moving smooth.”

She simulated, weapon drawn, heading forward. “One takes Knight.” Blood cold, she moved straight to the body, lifted the head by the hair, mimed drawing a knife over the throat. “Left-handed this time. Versatile bastards. Had the stunners in the right, knives in the left.”

Morris said nothing, only watched.

“Second moves straight toPreston, bends down, slices. Combat grip, one quick stroke. Then he heads up, his partner takes the first floor. Place this size, they can confirm it's empty in under ninety seconds.”

“Have you walked it off already?”

“Yeah, I went through. They're in, they're out. Three minutes. The blood on the floor down here, going into the kitchen and into the toilet's going to be from Knight. Upstairs it's going to bePreston 's. Coming off the knives, coming off the gear. The trail of it, the pattern, shows they were moving fast. See, look.”

She strode to the kitchen doorway, swung her weapon right, left. “See the blood there? Pause, sweep the room, move in.”

She looked back up the stairs. “Prestonshouldn't have come down like that, exposed. Two seconds where he acts before he thinks-he's thinking about his partner instead of with cop instinct-and he's dead.”

She lowered her weapon, holstered it. “Fuck.”

“Truer words. I'll take care of them now, Dallas.” He didn't touch her-his hands were smeared with blood-but the look in his eyes was as steady as the clasp of a hand.

“We're going to bury them for this, Morris.”

“Yes. Yes, we are.”

She went outside. Most of the reporters who'd gathered had scattered after Whitney had given them a brief statement. Stories to file, she thought.

But she saw Nadine over with Roarke by her vehicle. Some of the anger, the cold hard tips of it, clawed through. She strode toward them, ready to rake the reporter bloody-and have a few swipes left over for her husband-when Nadine turned.

Her face was streaked with tears.

“I knew them,” she said before Eve could speak. “I knew them.”

“Okay.” The anger retracted, scraping those keen tips over her own gut on the way. “Okay.”

“Knight… We used to flirt. Nothing serious, nothing that either of us meant to go anywhere, but we did the dance.” Her voice broke. “Prestonused to show off pictures of his kid. He's got a little boy.”

“I know. You ought to take some time off, Nadine. A couple of days.”

“After you get them.” She swiped her fingers over her cheeks. “I don't know why it's hit me this way. It's not the first time somebody I know…”

“Prestonmay have hit one of them. I'm telling you that friend to friend, not cop to reporter. Because you knew them. Because I knew them, and thinking he might've hit one of them helps me.”

“Thanks.”

“I've got to go finish up here, seal the scene, then go in,” Eve said to Roarke. “I don't know when I'll be home.”

“Call, will you, when you do?”

“Sure.” She thought of what he'd said earlier about the risks she had to take. And what it might be like for him to see other cops, bloody and dead.

So despite Nadine, despite the other cops, the techs, the few gawkers who'd yet to be nudged on their way, she stepped to him, stepped into him. Laid her hands on his face, laid her lips on his.

“I can get you a ride in one of the black-and-whites.”

He smiled at her. “There is nothing I'd like less. I'll take care of my own transpo. Nadine, I'll give you a lift.”

“If I could have a kiss like that, I'd be lifted into orbit. But I'll settle for a ride to the station. Dallas, if you need some research on the side, another pair of hands or eyes, mine are yours. No strings on this one.”

“I'll keep it in mind. Later.” She strode back up the sidewalk, and back into the narrow box that smelled of death.