J. Robb - Survivor in Death

“He's been off the street a long time. You had a call to make and made it.”

She jerked a shoulder. “Maybe he'd have done the same, and maybe he knows I'd do the same again, given the same circumstances. But it was a hell of a screwup, and a righteous ripping. It won't come down on Trueheart.”

“He'd handle it if he had do. Appreciate you seeing it doesn't. How much of a punch are you going to take?”

“Written and oral reports to the review board. Fuck. Might get myself a departmental censure in my file. I can back up my actions, justify the call, but they won't like it, and will like it less when the civil suits start piling up.”

“You collar three mercenary terrorists responsible for the deaths of twelve people-including cops-the heat gets turned way down.”

“Yeah. The same way if I don't get them soon, the heat keeps heading up. I'll handle it; I'm not a whiner either. But I want these fucking guys, Baxter.”

She turned to the door as the rest of the team began to arrive. “If you're going to eat, get it and chow it down fast,” she ordered. “We've got a lot to go over in a short amount of time.”

Briefings and reports, cop chatter and coffee. And the chatter cut off, as if a knife had sliced down, when Don Webster, Internal Affairs Bureau, strolled in.

“Morning, boys and girls. Dallas, you should've sold tickets to that show last night.”

“I thought this briefing was reserved for real cops.”

At Baxter's comment, Eve shook her head in warning. She'd been expecting IAB to poke its sharp nose in. If it had to be IAB, Webster was a mixed bag. She trusted him, as she trusted no one else in that sector. But they had a dicey personal history, and she didn't need a former lover and Roarke butting heads again.

“There's data on this case that's on a need-to-know basis,” she began.

“The Tower,” he said, referring to Chief of Police Tibbie's office, “has decided I need to know. You've got considerable OF banked on this, multiple injuries civilian and department, property damage. You've got multiple dead civilians and two dead cops.”

He waited a moment, scanned the faces in the room. “You've been questioning the investigating officers on other cases, one of which is closed. IAB needs to know. And I'm going to say this here and now, to all of you before the record goes on, that I'm not here to bust anybody's balls for doing what needs to be done to get the bastards responsible for Knight and Preston. I pulled some levers to get this duty. I've worked Homicide. I've worked with you,” he said to Eve. “It's me or somebody who hasn't.”

“The devil we know,” Eve said.

“That's right.”

“Find a seat. You'll have to catch up.”

She continued the briefing, picking her way carefully now through data Roarke had gained. “We believe Kirkendall, Clinton, and Isenberry executed individuals on a freelance basis for various covert agencies. We have reason to believe they were connected to the terrorist group Cassandra.”

“How do you come by that?” Webster asked.

She'd barely hesitated when Feeney spoke up. “It's data we were able to extrapolate from the military files provided,” he said smoothly. “EDD knows how to do its job, and this team knows how to put a case together.”

“With the Cassandra connection,” Eve continued, “these individuals had access to weaponry, electronics, and funds. The philosophy of this group-a world order in their image-correlates to the personal philosophy displayed by Kirkendall. His family was made to perform according to his specifications, his orders, or was disciplined accordingly. We know, through the statement given to Detectives Peabody and McNab by Roxanne Turnbill, that she was abducted and tortured by Kirkendall after his wife's disappearance. The time elapsed makes it likely she was taken to a location in or near the city. Cassandra operated and had a base in New York last year.”

“The current murders don't seem to be part of a terrorist threat,” Webster put in.

“No, they're personal. Screw with me, I don't just screw with you- I kill you and your whole family. It's not revenge. It's pride. Who insulted his pride?”

“Everyone he's killed had a part in it,” Peabody commented.

“No, not everyone.”

“Well, the kid.” McNab glanced toward the door as if she might be listening on the other side.

“No. He wants her dead because his mission isn't complete until that time. His wife. It's his wife who dared to oppose him, dared to not only walk out with his kids, but who took him through the embarrassment of a custody trial. Who won. And who got away clean.”

“He can't find her.” Peabody spread her hands. “Neither can we.”

Eve thought of Roarke. He could, given the time, he could. But she wasn't going to endanger another family. “We can make him think we have her. It'll take a while to set up. Find a female cop who can handle it, one close to her build. We can use some enhancements, but she doesn't have to look identical. If he can have facial sculpting, he'd buy she could, too. We'd have to leak it so he didn't suspect it's a leak. And we've been pretty damn careful so far, so we'd need to trickle it.”

“Need a location.” Feeney pulled on his lip as he took up the thought. “Secure, so he'd buy we were holding her. Lure him in, box him in, shut him down. With the equipment and know-how he's got, you've got a hell of a trick on your hands, Dallas.”

“We put it together. I want it together within thirty-six hours, another twelve for sims. When we lay this trap out, I want it to spring shut right on their necks. Feeney, you and McNab take the computer lab.”

“We'll get on it.”

“The rest of you, give me five minutes with Lieutenant Webster.”

She waited until the room emptied and the door clicked closed. “This investigation, and last night's events, are my responsibility. The chief, IAB, or God Himself wants to file a complaint, it's on me.”

“So noted. I said I wasn't here to bust balls, and I meant it. The Duberry case, I've had a look at the files. While I wouldn't call the investigation sloppy, I'd call it narrow. Brenegan? It looked like a righteous bust that resulted in a righteous conviction. But this data calls that into question.”

“The cops on those cases complained to IAB?”

“Cops don't complain to IAB,” he returned with the slightest of sneers. “You avoid us like a case of the clap. But we get wind. Fact is, Dallas, if the primary on Duberry had done a more thorough job, scratched out that connection to Moss, then back to Brenegan, this hunt might've started a year ago.”

“Figuring a connect between a strangulation and a car bomb's a stretch.”

“You made the stretch.”

“I had more. If you're looking for fuel against another cop on this from me, you're not going to get it.”

“That's up to his superiors, not IAB. Regarding the media that's going to… has already started to explode on the incident last night, you spin that right-and you've got excellent media connections-you can circle it into a positive. Heroic cop risks life to protect the city from baby killers.”

“Oh fuck that.”

“Don't think that's not just how Tibbie will have it spun. Not just your ass in the sling if you don't get some shine on this. Turn it around, get that sexy, fierce-eyed face on camera. Shake this off so you can get back to work.”

“I am back to work.” But she considered. “The spin lower the heat on the rest of the team, on the investigation?”

“Couldn't hurt. It couldn't hurt if you tell the rest of your team to cut me some serious slack. I was a good murder cop.”

“Yeah, too bad you didn't stick with that.”

“Your opinion. I can help, and that's why I'm here. Not to roust you, and not because I've still got a torch going. Maybe just a little smoulder now and then,” he added with an easy smile.