Page 24

In Observation, Harry hissed out a breath.

“He’s just a git after all. For all he’s done, and would’ve done, he’s just a bloody git, and she has him cold.”

“She sees him,” Marjorie murmured. “She sees him as I can only wish we had.”

From behind her, Summerset laid a hand on her shoulder. “We see him now.”

“And she’s not nearly done with him,” Roarke commented. “No, not nearly done.”

He was enjoying himself now, Eve could see it. And she played it.

With just a touch of frustration in her voice, just a hint of anger, she continued.

“Do you admit to making and planting the explosive device in Chez Robert with the purpose of murdering Iris Arden, Marjorie Wright, and Ivanna Liski?”

“It was an excellent plan. Complex, and God knows they’re simple women. It was perfectly staged. They should have been sitting there, drinking their frivolous cocktails, waiting for the ridiculous cousin when the bomb went off.”

“While you were in apartment 3-C across the street, watching.”

“A fortunate turn, seeing that advertisement. Otherwise, I’d have sat at a table under an awning in the rain. But I realized quickly something had gone wrong.

“You interfered.”

“I interfered, and you ran.”

“Retreated. You, girl, may have gotten lucky with the explosive, but you obviously know nothing about tactics or strategies.”

“I know running when I see it, but we’ll say ‘retreat’ if that blows up your skirt. Your retreat included taking a shot at me—with an illegal weapon.”

“Illegality hardly matters.”

“And when you missed, you aimed and fired that weapon at two female civilians.”

He just shrugged. “Needs must. You’re like them, The Pathetic Twelve. Always concerned about civilians, innocents. War is death. And death doesn’t separate the innocent. By firing at them, I stopped you.”

For the first time he frowned. “And hit you. I’d swear it. But you had body armor, I suppose. Still, it stopped you, and I completed my retreat.”

“Only to, a short time later, abduct Devin McReedy. He was on his way home from school. You must have scouted that area previously, known about the park, the school, the alley and empty building.”

He sighed, adult to slow-witted child.

“Of course I did. Preparation is key to success. If the boy hadn’t been alone, if his mother had done her parental duties, I couldn’t have taken him. She bears the blame.”

“You complete prick.” When Peabody shoved up from her chair, Eve held up a hand.

“Easy, Detective.”

“He’s sitting there blaming the mother for somehow allowing him to drug a child, dump an unconscious child into the trunk of his car. To zip-tie the kid’s wrists and ankles and dump him in a locked storage room.”

“Emotions, you see?” Visibly amused, Potter shook his head. “The female runs on emotions rather than logic. The softhearted man does the same.”

“I’ll show you emotions.” Peabody balled a fist, and Eve pushed quickly to her feet.

“Take it down, Peabody.”

“Lieutenant, I carried that kid out of that basement, sat with him while the MTs treated the wounds on his wrists, his ankles. Held him while he cried.”

“Have one of your own then,” Potter suggested. “And be a mother to it instead of pretending a sidearm and badge make you as good as a man.”

Eve put a hand on Peabody’s shoulder as if restraining her.

“Take it down, Detective,” Eve repeated. “He’s bitchy because his mother ditched him when he was a kid.”

“You shut up about that.”

“Hey, I get it. No mother on record here.” Eve tapped her chest. “Maybe Devin’s mom should’ve walked him home from school—orchestra practice,” she added. “He plays the violin, which his mom found in its case in the alley. Guess he dropped it when you grabbed him.”

She walked around the table, gave a long look through the two-way glass before she turned again.

“But since none of it matters… I have to say it took some guts to let Pierce dose you back in Five Hells, make you essentially dead.”

“He’s a greedy man, an unhappy-in-his-circumstances man. It pays to know your tools, and I knew he wanted that second payment. He wouldn’t get it until I was clear.”

“Risky though, still risky. But you’re a man who takes risks to get what he wants. Gotta admire that.” As if chatting, she eased a hip onto the table on his side.

“You took your time after. Accessed your hidden funds somehow or other, got your face work. Took some time to refresh. Where’d you go? I bet France. Say… a flat in Paris, then a villa on the French Riviera. How about Saint-Tropez?

“I research, too,” she said when his surgically chiseled jaw hardened. “You go for French food, another reason you chose Chez Robert for your kill trap.”

“The coquilles Saint Jacques is excellent there.”

“I bet. You had to enjoy freedom after all those years in a cage. And had to plan. Logically. But with complexity, too. No simple, direct methods. Not your style. I think I get why New York. You had a little thing for Alice Dormer, but she was married to Summerset, and didn’t return that little thing.”

“I assure you, had I pressed the matter, she would have. And she had no business remaining in the unit after giving birth.”

“Mom thing again,” Eve said casually. “I bet you’ll mine that one, Dr. Mira.”

“Oh, I already am.”

“Figured. But the point is, Summerset’s in New York, and as it happened, a second target on your kill list, Ivanna Liski. They’ve been friends since childhood. Pre-Urbans friends who worked and fought together when war broke out.”

“A talented dancer. That should’ve been enough for her, as obviously her fatherless children weren’t. And Fox? Some skills, certainly, but he should have kept his wife out of the fray. Wasp at least did that much.”

“But with two in New York… No, wait.” Shaking her head, she pushed off the table. “I almost missed it, again! On the slim chance something went wrong, or you were found out after you’d completed your mission, your purpose, it would end just like this.”

She turned around, met his eyes. “Where nothing you did here would matter. One murder—Rossi’s—seven with all of them. More with collateral damage in the restaurant, Devin McReedy… You weren’t going to let him go, were you?”

“Of course not. Leave no witnesses.” He tapped a finger on the table. “Logic.”

“Logic. So you kill all of them, the kid, whoever went down in the bombing. And whoever else was useful or got in the way, like me, the two female civilians on the street. It wouldn’t matter. If someone got lucky enough to catch you, or you got unlucky enough to get caught, there’d be no price for any of it. You’re back in Manchester like none of that happened.”

“You’ve chosen this career, I suppose you call it. You should know the laws and rules better.”

“Yeah. Yeah. It looks that way.”

Pulling out her ’link, Reo rose. “I’m sorry. I have to take this.”

“Reo, APA Cher, exiting Interview.”

“He can’t get away with this, Lieutenant.”

“Watch me,” he told Peabody.

“Mr. Potter,” Mira began, “do you feel your retribution entitles you to take these lives?”

“As many as necessary. Wars aren’t just to be fought, but to be won.”

“This is, for you, war?”

“It’s my war.”

Nodding, she made another note in her file.

“Lieutenant.”

“Peabody, I don’t like it, but we have what we have. At least we have his statements, his full admission. You thought this out, Potter, I’ll give you that. Since it’s what we have, we’re going to go over the details for the record.”

“It would be a pleasure to rub your nose into it.”

She took him through it, point by point, step-by-step. And yes, she could see he enjoyed it. She let his insults, his smugness roll off her as she got every tiny detail on record.

She paused when Reo came back.

“Reo, APA Cher, reentering Interview. Reo, Mr. Potter’s providing us with details. We’re nearly done.”

“Go ahead, finish.” Reo sat, folded her hands.

“Failure weighs heavy, doesn’t it?”

She shot him a look, hard and hot, but said nothing.

“To continue?”

Eve didn’t have to lead him through it, a few prompts here and there, but he relayed details, bragged enthusiastically.

“I believe that covers it,” he finished.

“Nearly, yeah. You knew they’d all come. The remainder of The Twelve.”

“Of course. As I said, we took an oath—one for all, all for one, nonsense. And they took another after Hawk and Fawn fell. Rossi told me himself, when he confronted me after my capture. A sacred oath, he called it. The foolish man believed it would shame me. A sacred oath, if one needed help, he had only to ask and they would all come. A bond that would never break, he said. Now he’s dead, by my hand, because he answered that call. Kept that oath.”

“You used loyalty as a weapon.”

“Everything is a weapon.”

“Okay, we got it all, on record.”

“Which is worth the price of piss. I’d like to go back now. I’d enjoy a nap before my travels.”

“I guess we did disturb your sleep. Mira?”

“Mr. Potter is legally sane. He is an intelligent, organized psychopath who fully intends to complete his kill list by any means necessary. The loss of human life means nothing to him, only a means to his stated goals. The mission, his mission, is sacrosanct. If he is able to escape prison—”

“When,” Potter corrected.

“He will continue his war, endangering any in his path, until he kills those who remain of The Twelve. He will also attempt to kill the four of us in this room for standing against him.”

“You’ll never see it coming. Enjoy living in fear.”

“You’re right, Peabody,” Eve commented, “tiny balls, complete prick. Reo? Your end?”

“Yes, I have some paperwork here.”

“Extradition. Boo-hoo.”

Without sparing a glance toward Potter, Reo held out the papers to Eve.

“That’s your deal,” Eve told her.

“I insist. Do what Roarke suggested.”

“Passing the buck, you Yanks say.” Another sneer. “Typical.”

Eve scanned the papers, then laid them on the table.

“Conrad Potter, you have confessed, on record and of your own volition, to the premeditated murder of Giovanni Rossi, to the attempted murder of Marjorie Wright, Iris Arden, and Ivanna Liski, to the possession of illegal weapons, of banned toxic gas, of explosives. You have further confessed to the firing of an illegal weapon upon a police officer and civilians, to the drugging, abduction, imprisonment, and assault against the minor child Devin McReedy.

“You have stated the intention to commit murder if circumstances allow you freedom to do so.

“For these crimes and intentions, you will not be tried in the state of New York, or serve any sentence here. You will be extradited—”

“You lose.”

“You will be extradited, you festering, puss-seeping boil on the ass of humanity—”

“Sticks and stones.”

“From the city of New York directly to the off-planet, maximum-security prison of Omega.”

“You lying bitch!” He tried to stand, but the shackles kept him in a hunch.

“Where you’ll spend the rest of your miserable, shit stain of a life, with no possibility of parole—”

“I’ll kill you first! Every fucking one of you!”

“In a concrete cage. This relocation is authorized and agreed upon, due to your crimes committed in New York City, by the British government and the goddamn United States of America.

“You’ll never step foot on planet Earth again, you pathetic fuck. You’ll never complete your mission, you flaming pile of puke. You’ll die on a rock in space, and you’ll always know women brought you down. Starting with Alice Dormer. You couldn’t take her life, but she gave it to save others. You’ll never understand that kind of courage or loyalty or sacrifice.

“Now I’ll speak for Alice and the rest of The Twelve. You’re done.”

“I want a lawyer.”

“Sure. One will be provided for you, as you’re broke. Did I mention we found and froze all your accounts? You got nothing, you are nothing.”

“I won’t go. I can’t be forced into an off-planet prison.”

“I’d say wanna bet, but you’ve got nothing to put up. They beat you.”

She went to the door. Signaled to the uniforms outside. “He’s feeling frisky.”

“We got him, LT.”

Since she’d chosen two of the burliest, she didn’t doubt it.

She turned to the glass, signaled. Then took a breath as they unshackled a struggling Potter. “Interview end.” Then grinned. “Nice job. Girls. You don’t want to miss this part.”

She walked out behind Potter, then stood as The Twelve filed out of Observation.

He tried to lunge when he saw them, when they stood joined together.

Wild red color stained his face as he struggled against the two uniforms. “I’ll kill you all! And your families. Your children. Their children. Dead. All dead. I swear it!”

Harry stepped forward. “We decided I should speak for all of us, just to add to what the lieutenant said, and it was bloody eloquent.”

He held up his middle finger.

“Now we’ll never speak again.”

“Secure him,” Eve ordered.

“I’ll come back for you,” he shouted at Eve as they dragged him away. “I’ll listen to you scream as I cut out your heart.”

“What was that you said in there before, Peabody? Oh yeah. Shiver.”

“He’ll live the rest of his life,” Mira said, “plotting, planning, and burning inside. He’ll never get through the rage, and it will eat at him, every day.”

“Good to know. Really good to know.”

“The world’s a better place without him on it. I’ll complete my report.”

“Thank you, Dr. Mira.”

“And I’ll let the people who need to know that it’s done. And tied in a big, shiny bow. Some days, work is just a joy,” Reo added.

“You got that right.” Eve turned to Peabody. “Bad Peabody.”

“It was invigorating! I wasn’t really going to punch him though, except in my mind.”

“I know. Bad Peabody did good. Contact the McReedys, let them know he’s going away, and where. Then go home, get some sleep.”

“I’ll write it up.”

“No, I’ll write it up. Go sleep. That’s an order. Don’t make me punch you.”

She walked over to where Roarke, Whitney, and Tibble waited with The Twelve.

“Chief Tibble, Commander Whitney, thank you for your help in arranging the transfer to off-planet.”

“Politics can sometimes come in handy,” Tibble said. “In this case, it wasn’t a hard sell. He escaped British authorities and subsequently murdered an Italian citizen, attempted to kill British citizens, a New York police lieutenant, and abducted a minor child.

“He’s going exactly where he needs to go. Agreement all around. Excellent work, Lieutenant. To all.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He turned, shook hands with The Twelve. “Again, it was an honor and privilege to meet you.”

As he left, Whitney stepped to Eve. “Go home, sleep. I’ll write it up.”

“Sir, I—”

“That’s an order, Lieutenant. Don’t make me punch you.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you. It’s just that—”

She stopped herself when his eyes narrowed.

“Thank you, Commander. Before I go off duty, I would like to contact Mr. Rossi’s widow and inform her and her family. I’d like to break down my board.”

“Go ahead, then get out.”

“Lieutenant Dallas. Eve.” Marjorie reached out for Eve’s hand. “We owe you.”

“You don’t. You were part of it, all of you. We wouldn’t have wrapped him so quick or so tight without you.”

“Can I say you ladies kicked his ass in there?”

Eve nodded at Harry. “You can say that.”

“We’d like to stay tonight,” Ivanna told her. “If you’d allow us to impose on your hospitality one more night. We’d like to stay together one more night. We’ll leave tomorrow for Giovanni’s memorial.”

“It’s fine. No problem. Roarke, I’ll be maybe another hour. You can go home with them.”

“I’m with you. But I’ll see to their transportation.”

“Have a drink with us at least before we go tomorrow.”

“Sure,” she told Cyril. “I’ll see you back at the house. I need to finish up.”

She stopped in the bullpen first. “Good work,” she told her squad. “Excellent work.”

“He screamed like a girl. We could hear him.”

She jabbed a finger at Jenkinson. “Don’t insult girls.”

In her office, she stood, looked at her board. “It didn’t go unanswered.”

She started to sit to contact Rossi’s family, then stopped when she heard footsteps. Not familiar in her hallway.

Then frowned when Summerset came to the doorway.

“A word, please.”

“A quick one. I’ve got orders.”

“I want to thank you.” He sighed a gust of air. “Don’t put on that face.”

“It’s my face. I’m always wearing it.”

“I’m not thanking you for doing your job, which you would dismiss. I’m thanking you for what you said at the end of your interview about my wife. About Alice.”

“I said what was true. Truth doesn’t need thanks, either.”

“Truth matters, and when spoken matters more. She would have liked you a great deal. She was a warrior, too.”

He glanced down. “There’s blood on your shirt.”

“It’s from before.”

“I’ll see to it. We’ll have spaghetti and meatballs tonight, for Giovanni. If you’re not overly tired by then, I hope you’ll join us.”

He walked away before she answered, or could think how to answer.

Instead, she finished the work, then went out to see Roarke sitting at Peabody’s desk.

“Done,” she told him. “Jenkinson, you and your tie have the wheel. I’m going home.”

“We got it.” He, very deliberately, fluttered his tie so that she walked out on an eye roll.

“They were impressed,” Roarke told her.

“With what, the interview?”

“With how you handled it. Tibble had told them what was happening, the transfer. It took the edge off. I won’t say they enjoyed it—although some parts, yes.”

“He was just so… do they say ‘cocksure’ because it’s a man thing?”

“I refuse to answer that. You got your color back in there, skewering him.” He rubbed his knuckles down her cheek. “You’re losing it again now.”

“Just need some sleep. A shower. A really long, hot shower, then sleep. Peabody was fierce.”

“She was.”

“Mira and Reo really played him.”

“The four of you bonded—one purpose. And it was impressive.”

“Teamwork. He was so proud of it, the idea he’d worked out that nothing he did here would matter. ‘Kill, maim, destroy, so what? Can’t hold it against me.’”

“And you proved otherwise.”

“The law did. The system worked—both sides of the ocean.”

By the time they made it to the garage, it started blurring a little. But it satisfied that she could still see the shock on Potter’s face when she’d lowered the boom.

“A boom’s a noise.”

“It is indeed.” He opened the passenger door, all but poured her into it.

“Then why do you lower it?”

“A boom on a ship. You raise and lower it.”

“That’s stupid. I wish I hadn’t thought it.”

Adoring her, he walked to the driver’s side, got behind the wheel.

“Spaghetti and meatballs,” she muttered.

“After you’ve slept.”

“Yeah, no. Summerset said spaghetti and meatballs, and we should eat with them. I dunno.”

“After you’ve slept, I think you’d enjoy it. They’re, as I’ve said, an enjoyable bunch.”

“Maybe. Is he going to Italy, too?”

“Summerset?” He glanced over as he drove, noted she was nearly under. “Of course. They were mates.”

“Just you and me tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, and a few days more, you and me.”

“Nice. Been busy. Miss you and me.”

She dropped into sleep so he took her limp hand, brought it to his lips. And kept it pressed there for several seconds.

You and me, he thought. Even when it’s not just, it’s you and me.

He drove home, where he intended to sleep with his exhausted wife until spaghetti and meatballs.