"And if our man knows him at all, he'd know Brian tends to do as he chooses."
"That's right, so he'll arrange for the meet quickly. He's already got the place where he'll kill him set up. And he's not going to want to take chances. Brian's a tough, muscular man in his prime. And he's street smart. He'd put up a hell of a fight."
"He'd have to be taken by surprise," Roarke agreed, "caught off guard."
"Exactly. My guess is he plans to do it all right here. Brian'll be expecting a driver, a messenger, a liaison for you, so he'll open the door. He would have to get a tranq in him then and there, quick, quiet."
"Lieutenant," Roarke said and held out a hand, and when Eve automatically put hers in it, he smiled and squeezed. "If I'd had a minipopper in my hand, you'd be tranqed just that fast and easy. They were popular in certain unsettled areas during the twenties, only they were most often laced with strychnine rather than a dozer. Shaking hands became quite unfashionable for several years."
"You're a fount of the most disturbing trivia."
"Wonderful icebreaker at parties."
"He should have called by now." She spun away to pace. "With each one he's narrowed the time between the murder and the earliest possibility of discovery. He wants me to get close, really close. It makes him feel more superior. It's more of a rush when he knows I'm right behind him, while the blood's still fresh."
"He may be planning to call from here, once he's locked in his prey for this round."
"I've thought of that. It won't matter. We'll still get him. He'll have to call this room. The cop who's posing as Brian for check-in is a good match in coloring and build. McNab's already added the jazz to trip the voice into Brian's tone over the 'link. And he's got the video fuzzy. But he's not going to move until he calls me. He wants to make sure I'm ready."
She looked at her wrist unit, swore. "Jackison's going to check in as Brian in fifteen minutes. Where is that son of a – "
The second the bedroom 'link beeped, she was streaking inside. "Back off," she ordered. "All porta-links into the next room. No chatter. Hologram backdrop, McNab."
"Engaged." He nodded as an imaged reproduction of her office flickered on around her. "Sitting pretty, Dallas."
"Trace this bastard," she ordered and answered. "Dallas, Homicide."
"So glad you're feeling better, Lieutenant."
It was the same voice, the same swimming colors on screen. "Did you miss me? Sending me flowers was such a nice touch, especially since blowing me up didn't quite work out for you."
"You were so… discourteous in your statement to the press. I found your lack of manners very rude."
"You know what I find rude, pal? Taking someone's life before they've finished using it. That kind of thing really ticks me off."
"I'm sure we could debate the value of our personal annoyances for quite a while, but I know how desperately you're trying to tape this transmission, with your inferior equipment and your under-educated technicians."
"I know a couple e-detectives who would find that statement very rude."
His laughter came through the speaker, genuine and amused. And, she thought as her ear cocked, young.
"Oh, under different circumstances I'm sure I could be very fond of you, Lieutenant. If not for your deplorable lack of taste. What do you see in that Irish street rat you married?"
"He's great in bed." Hoping he had clear video, she leaned back and smiled. "I've got an expert's profile here that says you're likely lacking in that arena. Maybe you should try some Stay-Up. It's available at your local pharmacy everywhere."
His breathing hitched once clearly through the speakers. "I am pure of heart and body, sanctified."
"Is that another word for impotent?''
"You bitch. You don't know anything about me. Do you think I want to lie with you, is that it? Maybe I will, when this is over, maybe God will demand it. 'Better to spill seed in the belly of a whore than on the ground.' "
"Have trouble jacking off, too? That's rough. Maybe if you tried to keep your mother out of your head when you're working on yourself you'd finish off and have a cheerier personality."
"Don't you speak of my mother." His voice went ragged and thin, wavering on a high note.
Bingo, Eve thought. Mommy equals female authority figure.
"What's she like? Is she still yanking your chain, pal, or is she at home, keeping the lights burning without a clue how you spend your free time?" She thought of the ritual she'd witnessed just that morning in a little church near the cliffs. "Do you still go to Mass with her every Sunday? Is that where you go to find your vengeful god?"
"The blood of my enemies flows like tainted wine into Hell. You'll know such pain before I kill you."
"You already tried once. You missed. Why don't you come closer. Take me on, one on one. Do you have the balls for it?"
"When the time comes. I won't be seduced by the words of a harlot to stray from the path."
His voice broke, shuddered, making Eve tilt her head as if to catch the nuance. Was he crying?
"No time like the present."
"My mission isn't completed. It isn't over. I say when, I tell you when. The fourth damned soul meets God's judgment today. Two hours." He let out a long, shuddering breath. "Two hours is all you've got to find the pig and save him from slaughter. 'By his own iniquities the wicked man will be caught, in the meshes of his own sin he will be held fast; He will die from lack of discipline, through the greatness of his folly he will be lost.' "
"Proverbs again? There's never any variety with you."
"All that is necessary for life is found in the Bible. He's walking into my arms, a squealing pig into the land of sleek and pampered dogs and underpaid nannies."
"That's not much of a clue. Am I getting too close for you to play a fair game?"
"The game's fair enough, but here's another: The sun sets behind, and before it drops to night, the next Judas will pay dearly for his betrayal. Two hours. Starting now."
"Give me good news, McNab." Eve demanded when the transmission ended.
McNab looked up, his green eyes shining. "I got him."
Eve rose slowly, disengaging the hologram herself. "Don't toy with me, McNab."
"Transmission source is sector D, grid fifty-four."
Eve strode over to the chart, scanned quickly. "Son of a bitch, the Luxury Towers is in that grid. The fucker's in there. He's working out of the building were he did the first murder."
"Do we move on him there?" Peabody demanded.
Eve held up a hand to halt the questions until she could think it through. "He said I had less than two hours. He doesn't rush through his work, so he'll want at least one of those hours in here. He'll be contacting this room any minute. Did Jackison get in?"
"He's in the next room."
"All right, let's give our boy a little time. He's already got his tools packed. He doesn't leave anything to the last minute. He'll get his transpo, and he won't break any traffic laws getting here. He's on a timetable. We need a second team over at the Luxury Towers, but I don't want them moving in. If he's working with anyone and they stay behind, they could tip him off."
She pulled out her communicator, contacting Whitney to report and outline strategy for the next stage. Her blood was cool, her mind clear as she began snapping out orders.
She broke off when the room fax beeped. "He's made contact, Commander. I'm reading it now. He's giving instructions for the mark to expect a uniformed driver within fifteen minutes. He wants the mark to wait in the room. This indicates the hit is meant to go down here, as anticipated. Mark is requested to release the elevator when signaled by 'link from the lobby. Three beeps. Transmission's ended. He'll be moving now."
"A second team will stake out the Luxury Towers. I can give you two detectives from the Homicide Division and three officers."