J. Robb - Purity in Death

Eve got to her feet. "Stay where you are. Peabody! You're going in. You can tell your story to the P.A. Price is being picked up right now."

"Just a fucking minute."

"Shut up, you pulsating piece of shit. You'll get your immunity. You're going in now, and staying in until the rest of your self-proclaimed heroes are picked up. There's a black-and-white outside, and a representative of the prosecutor's office. Thomas Dwier, you are now in custody. Surrender your shield and your weapon? Now," she said, laying a hand on his arm. "Or I'll take you down the way I want to instead of by the book you've shown such contempt for."

"People know we were right." He laid his weapon on the table, tossed his badge down beside it. "There are four monsters off the streets thanks to us."

She took his weapon, took his badge. Then hauled him to his feet. "There are all kinds of monsters, Dwier. You don't quite qualify. You're just a weasel. And an embarrassment to the job."

When he was secured in the black-and-white, Eve got into her own vehicle. Then just laid her forehead on the wheel.

"You all right, Dallas?"

"No. No, I'm not all right." She yanked Dwier's badge and weapon from her pocket. "Seal these. I don't want my hands on them again. I got him immunity. I got him a ride. Maybe, maybe I pull him in, hammer at him in Interview, I get him to roll without the deal. But I made the deal, because maybe he doesn't roll, and I can't spare the time to find out."

"The prosecutor wouldn't have dealt immunity if he didn't figure it was the way to go."

"When you want the whole pie, sacrificing one little slice is a reasonable trade. That's how the P.A. figured it. That's how Dwier knew he'd figure it. I wish I could. Get me an address on a Dru Geller. She'll be in the system."

She pulled out her communicator to run the next steps with the commander.

It took an hour to set it up to her satisfaction. Precious time, but she wasn't losing another cop. Not today.

"We can't be sure what kind of shape she's in," Eve reminded the crisis team she'd handpicked. "We will assume she is violent and armed. Three men on the door, three for the windows. We go in fast. We subdue, secure, and transport. The subject cannot be shocked with standard weapons, even on low setting. The probability is high that the infection has spread to the extent that this would result in termination. We use tranqs, and tranqs only."

She gestured to the apartment blueprint on-screen. "You've familiarized yourselves with the setup. We know the subject is in this location. We don't know where she is within its perimeter, but the highest probability is for the main bedroom, here. Communications are to remain open throughout the op. When the subject is secured, she will be transferred, immediately, to the medical techs, accompanied by two team members during transpo to designated health center where a medical team is waiting."

Maybe they'd save her, Eve thought as she approached the door to Dru Geller's apartment. And maybe they wouldn't. If Dwier's information was accurate, she had under eight hours left. Morris had called the infection irreversible after the initial spread.

She was risking six cops, her aide, and herself over a woman who was in all likelihood already dead.

She drew her tranq-shooter, nodded for the crisis team cop to uncode the locks. "Uncoding," she said quietly into her communicator. "Locks disengaged. Wait for my signal."

She eased the door open. She caught a whiff of spoiled food, of stale urine. The lights were off, the sun shields tight at the windows. The room looked and smelled like a cave.

She gestured, pointing Peabody and the second officer left. She went in fast, low, and right. "Living area clear."

She heard it then, a kind of growling. The sound a rabid dog might make when cornered. "Moving to main bedroom. Hold at the windows."

She took flank at the door, nodded again, then kicked it in.

Dru Geller had her back to the wall. She wore nothing but panties. There was blood on her breasts, breasts scored from her own fingernails. Her nose had bled as well, and the red ran down over her snarling lips, stained her teeth, dripped off her chin.

Eve saw it all in the space of a heartbeat and saw the long-bladed scissors in her hand.

The scissor flew, like an arrow from a bow. Eve pivoted, deployed the tranq. It caught Geller in the left breast. "Now! Go! Hit her again," she ordered as Geller lunged forward.

A second tranq hit her midbody, and still she leaped on Eve like a wildcat, all teeth and nails. She saw the red eyes wheeling, felt the blood drip on her face. Geller howled as a third tranq took her in the right shoulder.

She shut off like a light, red eyes rolling back, limbs going limp.

It took seconds, only seconds. There was a flurry of movement as Geller was rolled away, her unconscious body restrained.

"Get her to the MTs, get her transported," Eve ordered. "Move."

"We got an officer down."

"What?" Wiping the blood from her face, Eve gained her feet, spun around.

And saw Peabody lying on the floor, bleeding, the scissors jammed deep into her shoulder.

"No. Goddamn it. No." She was on her knees in one fast move, and without thinking brushing her hand over Peabody's white face.

"Zigged right, should've zagged left," Peabody managed. She turned her head, stared dully at the bright silver scissors. "It's not too bad, is it? Not too bad."

"No, it's nothing. Get me a medical, now. Right now!" Eve stripped off her jacket, prepared to use it to staunch the flow of blood.

"Pull them out, okay? Wouldja?" Peabody groped for Eve's hand. "It's making me pretty sick, having them sticking out of me."

"Better not. MTs coming up right now. They'll fix you up."

"They'd hit an inch over, the riot vest would've deflected them. What're the chances? Really hurts. Jesus, it really hurts. I'm cold. Just shock, right? Right, Dallas? I'm not dying or anything?"

"You're not dying." She snagged the wrinkled bedspread from one of the crisis team. "I don't have time to waste training another aide."

Eve turned her head as an MT rushed in. "Do something," she ordered.

Ignoring her, he ran a scanner over the point of entry, took Peabody's vital signs. "Okay, Officer. What's your name?"

"Peabody. I'm Peabody. Would you get these goddamn scissors out of me?"

"Sure. I'm going to give you a little something first."

"Gimme lots. Dallas is the one who lives for pain."

He smiled at her, set his pressure syringe.

"She's losing blood," Eve snapped. "Are you just going to let her bleed out on the floor?"

"Just keep the pressure on," he said mildly. "Too bad about that jacket. Looks like nice fabric. I'm going to pull out the invasive object. On three, Peabody, okay?"

"One, two, three."

The MT met Eve's eyes, and mouthed: Hold her down.

Eve felt it in her gut, felt the sharp shock of the blades slicing out of Peabody's flesh. Felt it in the quick jerk of her aide's body against her restraining hands.

Blood flowed over her fingers, warm and wet.

Then she was nudged out of the way, while the MT worked on the wound.

Twenty minutes later she was pacing the ER waiting room.She'd nearly decked the doctor who'd ordered her out of the treatment area. Had restrained herself only because she figured the medical had to be conscious to work on Peabody.

McNab burst through the doors in a limping run, with Roarke right behind him.

"Where is she? What are they doing for her? How bad is it?"

"She's in treatment. They're patching her up. It's just like I told you, McNab. She's got a deep puncture in her shoulder, but it missed the major arteries. They don't think there's any muscle damage. They're going to clean it up, give her some blood and fluids, sew her up. Then they'll probably spring her."