Jeffery Deaver - The Devil's Teardrop

The earphone crackled. "Margaret… Jesus Christ." It was C. P. Ardell, stationed downstairs.

Instantly she drew her weapon.

"You have the subject?" she whispered fiercely into her lapel mike.

"No," the agent said. "But we've got a problem. It's a mess down here."

Cage too was listening. His hand strayed to his own weapon as he looked at Lukas, frowning.

C. P. continued. "It's the mayor. He's here with a dozen cops and, fuck, a camera crew too."

"No!" Lukas snapped, drawing the attention of a cluster of partyers nearby.

"They got lights and everything. The shooter sees this, he'll take off. Its like a circus."

"I'll be right there."

"Your honor, this is a federal operation and have to ask you to leave right now."

They were in the parking garage. Lukas noted immediately that there was a controlled entrance and exit-to get in you needed to take a ticket. That meant that license plates were recorded and that in turn meant that the Digger would probably not come in this way-the unsub would have told him not to leave a record of his visit. But Mayor Kennedy and his damn entourage were headed for the main entrance to the hotel, where he and his uniformed bodyguards could be spotted in a minute by the killer.

And for God's sake, a camera crew?

Kennedy looked down at Lukas. He was a head taller. He said, "You have to get the guests out of here. Evacuate them. When the killer shows up let me talk to him."

Lukas ignored him and said to C. P., "Any of them get into the hotel itself?"

"No, we stopped 'em here."

Kennedy continued. "Evacuate! Get them out!"

"We can't do that," she said. "The Digger'll know something's wrong."

"Well, tell them to go their rooms at least."

"Think about it, Mayor," she snapped. "Most of them aren't guests. They're just locals-here for dinner and parties. They don't have rooms."

Lukas looked around the entrance to the hotel and the street outside. It wasn't crowded-the stores were all closed for the holiday. She whispered fiercely, "He could be here at any minute. I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Thought about adding "sir." She didn't.

"Then I'm going to have to go over your head. Who's your supervisor?"

"I am," Cage said. No shrugs now. Just a cold glare. "You have no jurisdiction here."

The mayor snapped, "So, who's your supervisor."

"Somebody you don't want to call, believe me."

"Let me be the judge of that."

"No," Lukas said firmly, glancing at her watch. "The Digger could be in the building right now. I don't have time to argue with you. I want you and your people out of here now!"

Kennedy looked at his aide-what was his name? Jefferies, she believed. A reporter was nearby, filming the entire exchange.

"I'm not going to let the FBI risk those people's lives. I'm going to-"

"Agent Ardell," she said, "put the mayor in custody."

"You can't arrest him," Jefferies snapped.

"Yes, she can," Cage said angrily now, with the most minute of shrugs. "And she can arrest you too."

"Get him out of here," Lukas said.

"Lockup?"

Lukas considered. "No. Just stay with him and keep him out of our hair until the operation's over."

"I'm call my lawyer and-"

A flash of anger burst inside her, as bright as the one that made her explode at Kincaid. She looked up at him, pointed a finger at his chest. "Mayor, this is my operation and you're interfering with it. I'll let you go on your way with Agent Ardell or, so help me, I'll have you detained downtown. It's entirely up to you."

There was a pause. Lukas wasn't even looking at the mayor; her eyes were scanning the parking lot, the sidewalks, the shadows. No sign of anyone who might be the Digger.

Kennedy said, "All right." He nodded toward the hotel. "But if there's any bloodshed tonight, it'll be on your hands."

"Goes with the territory," she muttered, recalling she'd threatened Kincaid with the same words. "Go on, C. P."

The agent led the mayor back to his limo. The two men got inside. Jefferies stared defiantly at Lukas for a moment but she turned quickly, and together she and Cage walked back toward the hotel.

"Shit," Cage said.

"No, I think it's okay. I don't think the Digger could've seen anything."

"That's not what I mean. Think about it-if Kennedy found out we were here, that means we've got a leak. Where the hell do you think it is?"

"Oh, I know that." She opened her cell phone and made a call.

"Detective," Lukas said, struggling to control her anger, "you know that information about tac operations is secure. You want to give me a reason why I shouldn't refer what you did to the U.S. attorney?"

She expected Len Hardy to deny or at least offer some slippery excuse about a mistake or getting tricked. But he surprised her by saying briskly, "Refer whatever you want but Kennedy wanted a chance to negotiate with the shooter. I gave it to him."

"Why?"

"Because you're willing to let, what, a dozen people die? Two dozen?"

"If it meant stopping the shooter then, yeah, that's exactly what I'm willing to do."

"Kennedy said he could talk to him. Talk him into taking the money. He-"

"You know he showed up with a goddamn TV crew?"

Hardy's voice was no longer so certain. "He… what?"

"A TV crew. He was playing it for media. If the Digger'd seen the lights, the police bodyguard… he'd just leave and find another target."

"He said he wanted to talk to him," Hardy said. "I didn't think he was going to use it for PR."

"Well, he did."

"Did the Digger-?"

"I don't think he could've seen anything."

Silence for a moment. "I'm sorry, Margaret." He sighed. "I just wanted to do something. I didn't want any more people to die. I'm sorry."

Lukas gripped her phone. She knew she should fire him, kick him off the team. Probably file a report with the District police commission too. And yet she had an image of the young man returning to his house, a house as silent as the one she returned to every night after Tom and Joey had died-a silence that hurts like a slap from a lover. He'd spend the holiday alone, forced to suffer a false mourning for Emma-a wife not alive and not dead.

He seemed to sense her weakening and said, "It won't happen again. Give me another chance."

Yes? No?

"Okay, Len. We'll talk about it later."

"Thanks, Margaret."

"We've got to get back on stakeout."

She clicked off the phone abruptly and if Hardy said anything else she never heard it. She returned to the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton.

Lukas slipped her weapon off her hip once more, held it at her side and began to circulate through the crowd. Cage tapped his watch. It was a few minutes to eight.

They looked over the railing at the dark water and joked about the Titanic, they ate the shrimp and left the chicken livers, they talked about wine and about interest rates and about upcoming elections and about congressional scandals and about sitcoms.

Most of the men were in tuxedos or dinner jackets, most of the women in dark dresses whose hems hovered an inch above the lacquered deck.

"Isn't this something? Look at the view."

"Will we be able to see the fireworks?"

"Where'd Hank get to? He's got my beer."

The hundreds of partyers had stationed themselves all over the lengthy yacht. There were three decks and four bars and everyone at the New Year's Eve bash was feeling great.

Lawyers and doctors, finding a few hours of peace from their clients' and patients' woes. Parents, enjoying a respite from their children. Lovers, thinking about finding an empty stateroom.

"So what's he going to do I heard he was going to run but the polls suck why should he oh what about Sally Claire Tom did they really get that place in Warrenton well I don't know how he can afford it… "