J. Robb - New York to Dallas

“It fits.” Mira nodded. “Freedom after a long confinement can be stressful even though deeply desired. Decisions are more difficult. Adjustments when a factor changes unexpectedly, even more so.”

Like Eve she studied the board. “In my opinion, he’ll continue to devolve. His actions will deviate more and more from the pattern he once carefully adhered to. And he’ll become more violent. If he abducts another girl, he’ll be more brutal. He may kill her because the rape and the violence won’t be enough, not for much longer. Nothing will be enough but you. He’ll take greater risks to get to you. As long as you exist, he can’t feel complete. You punished him. In a terrible way, you’re the mother now.”

“Jesus. I’d gotten some of the rest, but I hadn’t gone there.”

“You don’t fit the pattern. You’re not old enough, you’re not an addict, you’re not weak or susceptible to his charms. But. His mother abused him, punished him, and more important, for many years had control of him.”

“So he had to eliminate her, replace her periodically with someone he controls.”

“It’s most probable, and my opinion, you’re the only woman to take control away from him since his mother.”

“And I’m damn well going to do it again.” She glanced at her wrist unit. “Less than an hour till the feds freeze his money. What will he do when—”

“Moot point,” Roarke told her. “I’ve got him.”

“You’ve got some locations that fit all the parameters?”

“No. Do you honestly think it would’ve taken me that long just to pull out possibilities? It’s a wonder I tolerate your insults. I’ve got the location.”

“How did you determine?” She rolled her eyes when his narrowed. “I’m not questioning your big, sexy skills. I have to be able to relay to Ricchio and the feds, convince them you’re right.”

“I am right. He put a deposit on a projected two-bedroom, two-anda-half-bath apartment, with gourmet kitchen and private elevator—sixty-sixth floor—in September of ’fifty-five.”

“Why didn’t you see the transfer for the deposit before? It had to be a hefty chunk.”

“Because, as you suspected, he had another account.”

Since she could clearly see he was annoyed he’d missed it the first time, she kept it zipped.

“A corporate brokerage account,” Roarke continued, “and he has a law firm handling the deposits and transfers. A law firm out of Costa Rica. I know that because when I found this location, I did another search, a bloody miserable one,” he added grimly, “and was able to track it back to him. The apartment’s leased by Executive Travel, yet another dummy corporation, which has made him a nice return by renting it to legitimate corporations for overnight or shortterm stays or meetings.”

“Then it’s—”

“However”—Roarke ignored the interruption—“the apartment was taken off the market for refurbishing three months ago. Which is when he added the electronics. It remains unavailable for lease.”

“We got him.”

“As I said. Now, call off the feds, Lieutenant, and call in the dogs. Let’s go finish this.”

“Here’s how I want it to go.” Once again Eve headed toward Ricchio’s briefing room at double time. Roarke strode beside her; Mira scrambled to keep up.

“We have the data, so we run the show. While I’m sorting that out with Ricchio and the feds, I want Roarke to set up all the data—the building schematics you accessed, the blueprints for the apartment, everything we have on building security and his personal security. I’m going to have you break off with whoever Ricchio picks from his e-men, and head up the security team.”

“Are you now?”

“They’re going to listen to you because unless they’re idiots they’ve figured out by now you’re better and faster than anybody they’ve got. And because I’m going to tell them to.”

“She’s a team player,” Roarke said in an aside to Mira, and got the beady eye from his wife.

“We’re going to take down his security, disable his elevator, and lock down the whole damn building without alerting him,” Eve pointed out. “And we’re going to need to do it slick, fast, and at exactly the right time. That’s for you. I know you can do it. I don’t know if Ricchio’s men can.”

“You can do that?” Mira asked Roarke. “Isolate McQueen’s apartment, and shut down the entire building?”

“Just a hobby of mine.”

“I want Mira to start it off,” Eve continued, giving Roarke another, beadier eye, “updating the profile. I want everybody on this op to know what they’re going after. Take your time, punch it in. The last op went to hell, so some of them are going to be edgy, some overeager.”

“Understood.”

“Then let’s do it.”

She headed straight to Ricchio. “I need a minute, Lieutenant.”

“Sure.” He nodded at the detective beside him. “Have them picked up. We identified and located the two people McQueen told the partner to contact for security and soundproofing. I’m having them brought in for questioning.”

“Excellent.”

“We’ve also interviewed the clerk at the wine store where McQueen purchased the champagne, wine, caviar, and we have the security discs showing him in the store and making the purchase. The clerk carried the stuff out to the car, and confirms McQueen was driving the Orion.”

“Also excellent, and adds to the time line.”

“We also ran down the knife and sheath, purchased that same day.”

“Busy boy. Lieutenant, I’ve brought my profiler. I’d like her to brief everyone on the changes in McQueen’s pattern and profile. It’s important they understand the target and his current state of mind.”

“Agreed.”

“My consultant is setting up the data.” She paused as the feds came in, turned to include them. “We have the building blueprints, the layout of McQueen’s apartment, the security. He’ll need some good men,” she said to Ricchio, “to work with him. Disabling the security—McQueen’s apartment as well as building security—shutting down his elevator, and the timing of it, will be key.”

“We have men for that,” Nikos put in.

“Good, send them to Roarke. He’ll coordinate.”

“He—”

“He’s the best there is,” Eve interrupted.

“I’m going to agree with that,” Ricchio put in. “Stevenson isn’t easily impressed, and he’d draft Roarke into his division if he could.”

Not an idiot, Eve thought. “Roarke’s already familiar with the layout, knows the security system as it’s one of his makes. McQueen’s personal security will be trickier, which also goes to timing and the skill of the tech. We wouldn’t be having this briefing right now without the data accessed by my tech.”

“Agreed,” Laurence said before Nikos could speak. “He’ll have whatever he needs from us.”

“Good.” Eve waited a beat. “We’ll need to establish whether or not McQueen’s inside before we disable and lock down.”

“It sounds like you assume you’re heading this op, Dallas. The last one you headed ended up with a high-speed chase, a dead cop, and a dead suspect. Which brings up the matter of Detective Price.” Nikos glanced toward him. “And the decision to include him on this operation.”

“My detective’s actions saved a child from serious injury, possibly death. Don’t you begin to question his actions or my judgment, Agent.”

“You want to hang the failure of that operation on someone, you hang it on me,” Eve snapped out. “Or maybe you’d have just let that kid end up roadkill.”

“I do hang it on you, and also suggest Detective Price may not be mentally prepared to—”