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Then, looking cool and sleek, he addressed the disorderly crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, the staff and performers of Radio City apologize for this difficulty. All tickets and transportation costs incurred will be fully refunded. An alternate date will be set for today's matinee at no change to any ticket holders who wish to attend. We appreciate your understanding."
The noise level didn't abate, but the tone of it altered dramatically. Roarke could have told Eve that money, unfailingly, talks.
"Pretty slick, aren't you?" she muttered and swung down behind the table.
"You need them out," he said simply. "What's your status?"
She waited until he stood down with her, then contacted Anne. "We're about fifty percent evacuated. It's moving, but slow. Where are you?"
"About the same. We've got half. Cooled one in the organ console. Working on one in the orchestra pit now. This one's almost a lock, but they're scattered all over hell and back. I've only got so many men."
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Roarke checking a handheld scanner. It sank sickness into her gut. "Keep me posted. You," she said as she turned to him. "Get out."
"No." He didn't bother to look up but did lay a hand on her shoulder to prevent her from moving in on him. "There's one up on the catwalk. I'll take that one."
"You're taking nothing but a hike, and now."
"Eve, we both know there's no time to argue. If these people have the building under surveillance, they know you've tagged them. They could decide to detonate any time now."
"Which is why all civilians—" She broke off rather than talk to his back. He'd already turned away and was slipping quickly through the oncoming crowd. "Goddamn it, goddamn it, goddamn it." Fighting off panic, she muscled her way through after him.
She caught up just as he was unlocking a side door and managed to push her way in behind him.
It slammed, locked, and they eyed each other narrowly. "I don't need you here," they said together. Roarke very nearly chuckled.
"Never mind. Just don't crowd me." He moved fast up narrow metal steps, moved quickly along twisting corridors.
Eve saved her breath. They were in it now, win or lose.
She could hear the echoes of voices from below, just a hum as the walls were thick. Here the theater was plain and functional, like an actor without costume or makeup.
Roarke took another set of steps, more narrow than the last, and came out on what looked to Eve like the deck of a ship.
It swung out over the plush seats, gave a full view of the stage far below. As heights weren't on her list of favorite things, she turned away and studied the massive and complicated control panels, puzzled over the thick hanging hanks of rope.
"Where…" she began, then lost all power of speech as he stepped through an opening and out into space.
"I won't be long."
"Jesus, Roarke. Jesus!" She scrambled over, saw he was not actually walking on air. But from her perspective, he might as well have been. The platform was no more than two feet wide, a kind of bridge that spanned above the theater, slicing through huge hanging lights, more ropes and pulleys, metal beams.
Even as she stepped onto it after him, her ears began to buzz. She'd have sworn she could feel her brain start to swim in her skull.
"Go back, Eve. Don't be so stubborn."
"Shut up, just shut up. Where is the fucker?"
"Here." For both their sakes, he put her fear of heights out of his mind. And hoped she could do the same. Nimbly, he pivoted, knelt, then leaned over in a way that made Eve's stomach flip in one long, slow rotation. "Under this catwalk."
He ran the scanner as Eve gratefully lowered to her hands and knees. She kept her teeth gritted and told herself to watch him. Don't look down. Don't look down.
Of course, she looked down.
The crowd was thin now, just a few dozen stragglers being hurried along by uniforms. The trio of E and B men in the orchestra pit looked like toys, but she heard their shout of triumph through the ocean roar of blood in her ears.
"They took out another one."
&n
