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“Bloody fucking hell.”
“We can get some of them out. Her back’s to the kitchen. We can move some of them out, quietly, while she’s focused on me. I’m the game changer. Right now she thinks she’s in charge. I change the balance, it throws her off. She has to rethink.”
“You go in, I go in.”
“Listen—”
He took her face in his hands. “You go, I go. That’s non-negotiable. If we’re to get blasted to hell or poisoned into lunatics, we do it together.”
“Crap. Crap. You have to look less rich and gorgeous.”
God help him, she made him grin. “I’ll do what I can.”
“Wire him up, too,” she told Lowenbaum. “Peabody, give me those stupid boots.”
“They’re not going to fit you.”
“I’ll manage.”
She stood while Lowenbaum’s e-man fit her with mic and earbud. And shoving her feet into the pink boots learned Peabody was right. They were miserably tight from toe to heel, awkwardly wide. She’d manage.
“Just enough to get me to the table,” she told her partner as Peabody began to wrap the scarf.
“You might as well look good. You’re sure about this?”
“I’m sure the weird scarf and the shades will get me across the room.”
“Dallas.”
“I’m sure. I want you in the back, in the kitchen. We’re going to move people out, and I need you to keep it smooth and quiet. And when I tell you, move in. Not before, Peabody. You, Baxter, Trueheart, move in on my go, and when Lowenbaum clears it. Not before.”
“Understood.”
She leaned in just a little, lowered her voice. “Lowenbaum will stun me if he needs to. I’m counting on you to take care of Roarke.”
“Oh, jeez.”
“If it goes south, you take him down, get him out. That’s not just an order, Peabody, it’s a request from a friend. Get him down and out. Promise me.”
“I do. I will. And you, too.”
“Lowenbaum’s men will come for the cop first. I’m not worried about it.”
Much, she thought as she stuck on the rainbow shades. “How stupid do I look?”
“Actually, you look totally chill.” Peabody gave the trailing edge of the scarf a little flip. “Sort of urban-bohemian chic.”
“God. Doctor Mira? Are you there?”
“Yes.” The voice, tight, tense, came through the earbud. “And I feel this is an unnecessary risk.”
“A calculated one. I’m covered. There’s a toddler in a damn booster seat smearing spaghetti sauce on his face ten feet away from the target. Once I get in position, feed me. Pull me back if I head in the wrong direction with her. I want to keep her engaged until we get as many civilians to safety as possible.”
“She’s a soldier first. She’ll sacrifice herself for her mission.”
“I’m counting on that mission priority being Callaway. Lowenbaum, are we set?”
“In position.”
