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“Hold very still,” Moriarity ordered.
“Not yet, not yet!” Dudley shouted it. “Damn it, Sly. No cheating.”
“Just getting her attention.” He slid the stunner down to her shoulder.
It would take her down, Eve thought, but it wouldn’t kill her.
“What the hell kind of game is this?”
“Not a game, Lieutenant,” Dudley told her. “Games are for children. This is adventure. It’s competition. Drop that very attractive evening bag, or Sly will give you a very nasty jolt. Very nasty,” he repeated when she hesitated.
“Let’s all take it easy.” She let the bag drop.
“I wish we had more time.” Dudley walked down a few pews, bent down. “We’d hoped to have more time when we got to you. And we’d planned o
n using St. Pat’s. Wouldn’t that have been glorious?”
“It would’ve made a statement.” She felt Sly shift slightly. “This place? It’s nothing important.”
“It will be after this.” Dudley straightened, whipped the sword in the air. “We’ll have made it important.”
“What the hell is that?” Eve demanded.
“This.” Dudley struck a fencing pose, tore the air with the blade. “It’s a foil, you ignorant bitch. Italian, very old and very valuable. It’s the blade of an aristocrat.”
“You won’t get away with this. My partner knows where I am, who I was going to meet.”
“Lies won’t help. You’re so drunk you barely knew your own name when I talked you out of whatever bar you were in. And you came just like I told you to.”
“You killed them. All of them. Houston, Crampton, Delaflote, Jonas. Both of you, working together, just like I thought.”
“It wasn’t work,” Dudley corrected.
“It was pleasure.”
“We had another round planned before you, but . . .”
“I knew it!” Still playing the helpless drunk, she swayed a little in Moriarity’s hold. “The two of you conspired to kill four people.”
“In New York,” Dudley confirmed with a wide, wide grin. “But we’ve racked up more points elsewhere.”
“But why? Who were they to you?”
“Old nobodies, new luxuries.” Dudley laughed until he shook.
“Winnie, we have to get back.”
“You’re right. It’s a shame we can’t play with her awhile. It has to be at the same time, remember. At exactly the same time so the score stays tied. Your trigger, my blade. Let’s say on three.”
Moriarity leaned in, let his lips caress her ear. “Who’s the asshole now?” he said to Eve.
“That would be you.”
She knocked Moriarity’s weapon hand with an elbow strike, slammed the sharp point of her left shoe into his instep. As she pivoted, Dudley charged. The blade skipped lightly over her biceps, jerked as she finished the turn. And ran Moriarity through.
Eyes wide, Moriarity looked down at the blood seeping through the snow white of his shirt. “Winnie, you killed me.”
As he fell, Dudley let out a howl, a wild combination of grief and rage. While cops flooded the room, weapons drawn, she indulged herself with one short-armed, vicious punch to his face.
