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“Greenwich Street. 207, apartment 5-B.” Roarke lifted his head now, and his eyes were no longer cool. “Javert Stevens.”
“All units,” Eve began, and ignoring all traffic codes, swung her vehicle into a hard, sliding U-turn. Cars parted for her like the Red Sea as she bulleted the wrong way up a one-way street.
“Homer’s engaged!” Peabody lurched in her seat, grabbing Baxter’s arm. “He did it! We’re two blocks away.”
Beside her, Baxter pulled his head in. Even as he began to pray, he checked his weapon.
He wasn’t sure he’d managed it, couldn’t be sure, but Trueheart let the communicator slide into the cushions on the sofa where Gerry had laid him.
He tried to push the hands away as they reached for him, but only flailed once before his arms dropped weakly.
“It’s going to be all right, I promise. It’s not going to hurt. I’m going to take care of that. Then you’ll see. It’s the most amazing thing. I want you posed standing. Very straight. Like a soldier. That’s what I see in you, a soldier—brave and true. But not stiff, so we have to work that a little.”
He leaned Trueheart against a waist-high stand, drew wires he’d already attached around his ankles. “You want music? I’ll put some on in just a minute. I think I’m going to try this as—what do they call it? Parade rest? Let’s see how it looks.”
He brought Trueheart’s arms back, hooking them by more wire to the post.
“This is going to look good. See, I’ll take the post and wires out of the image with the computer. Maybe I should tuck your shirt in.”
Another line of sweat dribbled down Trueheart’s back. If he found the weapon, it would all be over. Maybe it was over anyway.
But Gerry stepped back, angled his head. “No, you know I like it out. Shows you’re relaxed, a little casual, but still on alert. You struck me as being on alert in the club. Looking around, watching people. That’s why I thought of the solider pose.”
He picked up a pressure syringe. “I’m going to give you a little more now, so you won’t be afraid, so you won’t feel any discomfort. And when I’m finished. When I have the image, you’ll understand everything. You’ll be part of everything.”
“Don’t.” Trueheart’s head lolled on his neck.
“Ssh. Ssh, don’t worry.”
He felt the light push against his arm, felt himself going under—soft waves, gentle breezes. Lights out.
Eve roared up to the curb, and over it as her tires fought to find purchase on the wet street. The black van was parked just ahead.
Even as the car shimmied, Baxter was out. Eve was steps behind him. “Hold it together,” she ordered.
“I’m together. I’m so fucking together there are two of me in here.”
He yanked out his master.
“Palm plate—this is faster.” Roarke shoved him aside, and went quickly to work with illegal tools.
“You didn’t see this,” Eve snapped out.
“I don’t see a damn thing.”
“You listen to me. Detective Baxter, you listen to me now. I am in command.” She nodded briskly when Feeney and McNab, then a trio of black-and-whites braked in front of the building. “We go in fast, but we go in organized.”
She shoved through the door Roarke opened. “Stairs. Uniforms, elevator. Peabody with me.” She continued to toss orders as she pounded up. “Baxter, Trueheart is your priority.”
“You don’t have to tell me that.”
“You will find and safely secure Officer Trueheart. I want a medic up here,” she barked into her communicator. “I want a medi-van on site. Now. Leave the suspect to me unless directly engaged. Is that clear?”
“I got it.”
“He’s put music on, Lieutenant,” Peabody reported, huffing a bit as they hit the fourth level. “I can’t hear anything else now.”
“Roarke, on the door. Give me two units on emergency evac. He isn’t going to rabbit on us. Get this building surrounded. Two men stationed on each floor at stairway. Disengage the elevators.”
