"Looks like the expected number of patrols are cruising. Hardly moving, in the crush. Half a dozen uniforms on foot, mixing with the crowd. Four CHP units up along the highway. I think we're… Wait…"
Slayter was quiet as two men emerged from the back door of the station and quickly crossed the police parking lot. When they hit the side street they moved off in different directions. Slayter described them; dressed as civilians, they wore faded shirts, worn jeans, the kind of clothes favored by many locals, comfortable and innocuous.
"Not sure," Slayter said, in answer to a question. As the men moved into the center of the village where the music was loudest, Slayter relayed their positions. "You have someone on them?" Dulcie glanced across at Joe. Had Roman Slayter figured out Harper's carefully planned sting? If there was another snitch working, she'd hate to think it was someone in the department.
Or was Slayter simply covering all bases? Whatever the case, from this vantage he could see every officer who left the station, uniformed or wearing street clothes. He could track every cop Harper assigned, see where they went, which mark they observed, and pass it on to Luis. She looked frantically across at Joe; the tomcat looked furious, his eyes blazing with a challenge so predatory that Dulcie felt her fur stand up. They had to stop Slayter before he ruined the carefully laid sting, before cops were attacked, civilians caught in possible gunfire.
Crouching, every muscle at ready, she took her cue from Joe, praying they didn't kill themselves. A blaze of fire in Joe's yellow eyes, and a twitch of his ear, and she raced across the roof beside him…
"… brown leather jacket," Slayter was saying, "tan Chinos, long blond hair and…"
Together they leaped, hitting Slayter's back with all the power they had and all claws digging.
The force of their assault sent him to his knees, scrambling at the edge of the roof, gurgling a scream. The phone went flying. Like a streak Joe snatched it and was gone again, the phone sticking out both sides of his mouth like a dog bone; he vanished behind a chimney.
Before Slayter could get to his knees, shaking his head and twisting unsteadily around to see what had hit him, Dulcie landed on his back and struck him in the face. He screamed, twisting away, pulling loose the frail metal gutter as he tried to steady himself. He lost his grip and went over, snatching at air. Dulcie raked him again and leaped free; with a twisting grab she snagged the edge of the roof with her claws. She was swinging helplessly, trying to pull herself up, when Joe grabbed the side of her neck in his teeth and jerked her back to the roof. They heard Slayter hit the balcony below with a dull thud. They ran, stopping only for Joe to snatch up the phone again.
Scorching away across the rooftop and among some heating equipment, they paused at last, panting; and Joe punched in Harper's number.
Dulcie watched the roof behind them, but there was no sign of Slayter trying to climb up. She was a bundle of nerves at how close she'd come to falling maybe the whole three stories; she'd counted on Slayter cushioning her fall, and she guessed Joe had thought that, too. Beside her, he had Harper on the line.
He told the chief what they'd seen. "Slayter made three of your men." Joe described the three. "Gave directions to where the first two were headed. And then, I don't know exactly what happened, but he fell. It was pretty confused, I guess he might be hurt, though he only fell to the second-floor balcony."
"Where the hell are you?" Harper's voice was ragged. "If you saw him fall, you know what happened."
Harper didn't ask who this was; he knew the snitch's voice. "How did he fall?"
"His cell phone's lying on the roof where he fell." Joe hit end call and flipped the phone closed. Quickly carrying it back where he'd snatched it, he laid it in the gutter. Cautiously peering over, he smiled.
He returned to Dulcie, still smiling. "He's down there curled up and groaning, holding himself like he hurts bad." He glanced back with longing at the abandoned phone. He'd always wanted his own cell phone; but sensibly he turned away. "Let's get out of here." They headed away fast, before the cops arrived. Maybe the department could trace the numbers Slayter had called; most likely it was Luis's cell number.
"What will happen," Dulcie said, "when the cops see those scratches on his back and face? What will they think? What will Harper and the detectives think?"
"What can they think? Come on, Dulcie, it's getting late." The sun, in its low southerly journey, reflected a last path of flame over the western sea. It would be gone in a minute, and the winter sky would darken fast. And as evening fell, so would Luis's marks fall.
And so will Luis's men, Joe thought, smiling. If our luck holds. But behind him, Dulcie hadn't moved. He turned to look at her. "Come on!"
She stood staring down at the street, her tail lashing. "Chichi! It's Chichi. She's headed for the Gardenview, fast. She…" The tabby's eyes widened. "She knows something happened to Slayter!" She looked up at Joe, wide-eyed. "Was it Chichi he was talking to? Or was she with Luis when Slayter cut out, did Luis send her to find out what happened?"
Paws in the gutter, Joe watched Chichi, torn between following her and hurrying on toward the blasting music and crowded streets where the action would be coming down.
"Go on," Dulcie said. "You know those officers better than I do, you can spot them easier. I'll follow Chichi."
"Too dangerous. You…"
"I'm not a kitten, I'll stay out of the way. Go on." And before he could argue she spun away, heading back for the Gardenview-but when she passed the place where Slayter fell, and looked over, he was gone.
She watched Chichi hurrying in through the front door, and heard the distant whirring of the elevator. Before Chichi could reach the third floor, Dulcie slipped into the rooftop stairwell and flew down-she hadn't reached the bottom when she heard from below a soft banging as someone knocked on a door. Again, harder, a fist pounding. Dulcie paused in the small utility room. Insistent banging, just outside. And Dallas Garza's voice.
"Police. Open up. We need to talk with you, Slayter."
With a shaking paw she pulled the door open a crack. Three uniformed cops stood in the hall with Garza, to either side of Slayter's door. With them was a pale, lean man in a suit, maybe the hotel manager. There was no sign of Chichi. She must have fled the minute she saw the law enter the building. Maybe she doubled back to tell Luis?
Would Luis call off the operation? Oh, that would be too bad, after all Harper's planning, after bringing men in from other districts. If Luis and his men left town and no arrests were made…
Dallas pounded again and shouted. When there was only silence, the hotel man handed him a passkey. Standing against the wall, Dallas unlocked the door and kicked it open.
Crouched between the ice dispenser and a soft drink machine, Dulcie watched the detective and one uniform enter, leaving the other two standing guard. From down the hall, she heard the elevator descend. Someone else would be coming…
The elevator did not return. But suddenly Chichi came hurrying around the corner from the stairs-maybe she rang for it, then ran up, too impatient to wait. She paused at the open door, watching Dallas and the uniforms.
Frightened that she might be armed, Dulcie was about to shout a warning and then run, when she heard Captain Harper's voice coming up the stairs behind Chichi. Dulcie caught her breath, shocked, as the two came along the hall together, talking softly like a couple of old friends.
They entered Slayter's room, pushing the door nearly closed. Now, with the beat of jazz filling the street outside, she could barely hear them. Dallas was saying "… found him lying on the bed, curled up on his side like that, moaning like a stuck pig. He may have broken ribs. The shoulder looks dislocated."