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“I need to check all ops. Peabody, do a round. Confirm that all egresses leading below, back, or above stage are secure, then take and maintain your assigned position until further orders.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Roarke, would you show Dr. Mira her observation area?”
“Of course.”
“Great.” She flipped out her communicator. “Feeney, I want those—what are they—houselights on for a minute.”
When they flashed on, illuminating the theater, she switched the communicator to blanket transmission. “This is Lieutenant Dallas. In thirty minutes, I want all operation personnel at their assigned stations. If I so much as smell a cop, he or she is on report. Civilian protection is first priority. I repeat, that is priority. Weapons are to remain harnessed, and on low stun. I will not have a repeat of Grand Central.”
She pocketed the communicator. “Roarke, contact me when Dr. Mira is settled.”
“Of course. Break a leg, Lieutenant.”
“What? Oh. Right.”
“She was born for this,” Mira said as Eve strode off. “Not just for command, which fits her like skin, but for balancing the wrongs with the rights. Someone else, perhaps anyone else, would have finished this another way.”
“She couldn’t.”
“No. It’s already cost her. She’ll need you when this is done.”
“We’re going away for a few days.”
Mira angled her head. “How did you manage to persuade her?”
“The art of the deal.” He offered his arm. “May I escort you to your seat, Doctor?”
• • •
“Lieutenant. McNab, Position Four. First subject approaching theater, stage door entrance.”
“Copy.” Eve turned from the backstage monitor to Roarke. “That’s your cue. Try not to deviate from the outline, okay? I believe physical risk is minimal, but—”
“Trust me.”
“I just want to go over—”
“Lieutenant, does it occur to you that I might know what I’m doing?”
“It occurs to me that you always know what you’re doing.”
“Well then, I repeat. Trust me.” With that he left to take his mark.
On the monitor she watched him walk out on the bare stage, stand under the lights. She wondered if he’d ever considered acting. Of course he hadn’t, she thought. Deals, shady and otherwise, had been his passion. But he had the face for it and the build, the presence, the grace.
And, she mused, he had an innate skill with a believable lie.
Wasn’t that acting?
“Michael.” Roarke offered a hand as Proctor entered. “You’re prompt.”
“I didn’t want to keep everyone waiting.” With an easy laugh, Michael glanced around. “The troub
le with being prompt is you always wait for everyone else. I was really glad to get your call. I wasn’t sure the cops would ever let the theater open again, at least not in time for you to put Witness back into production.”
“They appear to have everything they need from the scene.”
