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“That they allowed the intruder access to their facilities, into a memorial for a murdered minor where several people, including police officers were injured. I believe those in charge now understand the ramifications, and the possible consequences—and publicity—of a countersuit.”
“That’s why you wheel the deals.”
“It is, yes. How’s my favorite face?”
She turned to study him. “You look okay.”
“And as fond as I am of what I see in the mirror, I like your face even more.”
“It hurts.” She allowed herself a momentary sulk. “I’m glad it hurts because it reminds me I fucked up.”
“Oh well, it’s pity party time. Go on then, you’re among friends.”
“I should’ve anticipated him infiltrating the staff.”
“Why?” Roarke glanced at her, tried not to smile when he watched her scowl over the next bite of candy. “From where I’m sitting it’s more trouble than it was worth—or should’ve been.”
“Because he’s careful. It gave him better cover. Who looks at all those black suits and sees anything but another black suit? It gave him more access, let him choose his time, which was at peak.”
“And added to the risk of being tapped by the senior staff members and managers who know the people assigned to each suite or memorial. I’ll tell you why he went that way—took an unnecessary risk—if you want my view on it.”
“I’ll take your view on it.”
“He could get a look at his work, close-up, another pat on the back from himself to himself.” Adjusting his speed, Roarke snuck through a light on the yellow. “He delivers some flowers, gives her a study. And I’ll wager hoped to take himself some photos that he’d look back on fondly.”
“Goddamn it. Goddamn it, that’s exactly what he’d do.” She dragged a hand through her hair, pulled. “I missed it.”
“Easy to see it from this side, analyzing the whys after the fact. His youth is part of it—caution and impulse—and it’s most likely she’s his first kill. This is his mission, and he’d be careful not to risk it. Now, he’s got the makings for a nice scrapbook.”
“Let’s keep this between us, for now. I let MacMasters on the team. He doesn’t need to hear this.”
“Is that wise, letting him on?”
“I’m going to find out.”
She took her time getting to the conference room. She wanted everyone assembled when she arrived. She moved in briskly, walking to the front of the room, waiting while Roarke took his seat.
“Captain MacMasters is joining this team, as of now. I’ll be taking individual reports and analyses. Before I do, I want the individual who shared the sketch of the suspect with Detective Cunningham, and possibly others, to identify himself.”
She didn’t need a raised hand, a confession, not when she saw Officer Flang’s eyes cut away.
“Flang, explain yourself.”
“Lieutenant, I was just trying to help. It was getting really crowded in there, and the more eyes we had—”
“Did I or did I not give a direct order regarding this, Officer, when you brought up the issue in the pre-op briefing?”
“Yes, sir, but—”
“I have to assume, Officer, that you considered yourself more capable of leading today’s operation than me, that you believe your judgment superior to mine.”
“No, sir, I just thought—”
“You thought it was acceptable to disobey a direct order from a superior officer. You’re mistaken. You’re on report, Officer Flang, and you are dismissed.”
“Lieutenant—”
“Don’t speak.” Her order chilled the room as Flang visibly withered under her stare. “Further, if one more drop—a single drop—of this leak slides out of the pipe, I will see to it that you’re charged with obstruction of justice. I want a list of every name with whom you shared this information on my desk inside fifteen minutes. Now, I repeat, Officer, you are dismissed.”
