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“I don’t know that she’s still alive.”
He only smiled. “You don’t know that she’s not.” And broke transmission.
“Another public ’link,” Roarke told her. “Port Authority.”
“I need the location. If I’m not there by midnight, he’ll kill her.” She rose, paced. “He’s got a place, one with full security. He’s not bullshitting there. He’ll have cameras, in and out. Sensors. He didn’t have time to set all that up in a week, so either the place came equipped with them or he ordered them from prison courtesy of the chaplain.”
“We can access tax records, blueprints, specs. It’ll take time.”
“Time’s running out. Let’s get started.”
At two she received word that Peabody and McNab had landed, and she ordered them to bring the unit to her home office. He was close, she thought again, and none of them should waste time working downtown.
The minute they walked in, she began outlining her plan of attack. “McNab, set up over there. Start checking out any financials, transfers, transmissions, using the chaplain’s name. Or a combo of his and Palmer’s. Peabody, contact Whitney, request a canvas of all private garages in the suspect area. I want uniforms, every warm body we can find, hitting the public parking facilities with orders to confiscate and review all security tapes for the past week.”
“All, Lieutenant?”
“Every last one.”
She swung around and into Roarke’s office. Using his auxiliary unit, she called up data, shot it to screen. “I’ve got the residences of Palmer’s targets in blue,” she told Roarke. “We run from mid to upper Manhattan, heaviest population on the East Side. We need to concentrate on private homes in this ten-block radius. Unless something jumps out at you, disregard anything that doesn’t fit this profile.”
She rolled her shoulders to relieve the tension, closed her eyes to clear her mind. “It’ll have a basement. Probably two stories in addition to it. Fully soundproofed and most likely with its own vehicle storage area. I’ve got them looking at public storage, but I’m betting he has his own. He wants me to find him, goddamn it, so it can’t be that hard. He wants me to work for it but not to fail. It’s just personal for him, and without me…”
She trailed off, whirled around. “He needs me. Jesus. Check my name. Check deeds, mortgages, leases using my name.”
“There’s your new angle, Lieutenant,” Roarke murmured as he set to work. “Very good.”
“Toss it on screen,” she asked even as she moved to stand behind him and watch. As her name popped up with a list of liber and folio numbers she swore again. “How the hell did he get all that property?”
“That’s not his, it’s yours.”
“What do you mean mine? I don’t own anything.”
“Properties I’ve transferred into your name.” Roarke spoke absently as he continued the scan.
“Transferred? What the hell for?”
He skimmed a finger lightly over her wedding ring and earned a punch in the shoulder. “You’re welcome.”
“Take it back. All of it.”
“It’s complicated. Taxes. Really, you’re doing me a favor. No, there’s nothing here that isn’t yours. We’ll try a combination of names.”
She wanted, badly, to seethe, but she didn’t have time.
They found three listings for the name David Dallas in Manhattan.
“Get the property descriptions.”
“I’m working on it. It takes a moment to hack into city hall.”
Barely more than that for Roarke, Eve noted as the data flashed on screen. “No, that’s downtown. Sex club. Try the next.” She gripped the back of his chair, straining with impatience. “That’s just out of the target area, but possible. Hold that and run the last. I’ll be damned.” She almost whispered it. “He reverted to type after all. That’s his parents’ house. He bought their place.”
“Two and a half years ago,” Roarke confirmed. “Using the name David Dallas. Your man was thinking ahead. Very far ahead. We’ll find accounts in that name, or an account that he had and closed.”
“Five blocks from here. The son of a bitch is five blocks from here.” She leaned down, kissed the top of Roarke’s head, and strode back into her office. “I’ve found it,” she announced, then looked at her wrist unit. “We’ve got seven hours to figure out how to take him down.”
She would go in alone. She insisted on it. She agreed to go in wired. Agreed to surveillance and backup at half-block intervals surrounding the house. For luck she pinned on the badge Peabody had given her, then waited with growing impatience as Feeney checked the transmitter.
