Betrayal in Death (In Death #12)(106)

"Lieutenant, we have hours yet. Without an occasional break from the stress, tedium, and monotony, we'll all be logy and stupid."

He lifted her rigid chin, turned her face right and left, nodded. "Not bad," he decided, "but you'll want a blocker boost and another hit of anti-inflammatory."

"McNab," she hissed and made him laugh.

"You impressed the bloody hell out of him, taking that minor mountain down with one tackle. But did you have to use your face? I'm very fond of it."

"Apparently you've been brought up-to-date."

"Apparently. When will you get your shot at Yost?"

"I'll wait for tomorrow. He'll pay, Roarke. Between local and federal charges, covering two decades, he'll never see the light of day again. He'll get maximum, solitary, concrete cage. And he knows it."

He nodded again. "Yes, I've thought of that. And I'm content that his life from now on will be worse than death for a man of his tastes and habits."

"Okay." She drew a breath. "You may have to be satisfied with that. Taking Yost out was my priority, and I couldn't risk any delay in doing so. But removing him may screw up this op. I don't see him as directly involved. He's an assassin, not a thief, and his type wouldn't soil themselves by participating in a heist. But in the past few days, we've eliminated Lane, Yost, and Connelly from the mix. Naples isn't stupid. Even with the time and investment he's put in, he may very well abort."

"Mick won't tip him."

She wasn't going to argue that. "Whether he does or doesn't, he's out. With Naples's main security tool running for cover, a key inside man in the hospital, and his assassin on ice, it's dicey. Maybe we'll get Yost to roll on him. Maybe. We're not going to be able to offer him much in return so it'll be a matter of pressure instead of trade. We may both have to be satisfied that we've prevented a crime, and Magda's auction goes off as scheduled."

"Will you be satisfied?"

"No. I want the bastard. Giving Yost to Stowe was... It just was. But Naples and the rest of them would be mine. I also know that the job doesn't always give satisfaction. One way or the other, we proceed as outlined."

By midnight, she'd OD'd on coffee and had studied on monitor every inch of every public area in the hotel. With Feeney and Roarke's man she had reviewed, stage by minute stage, every variable in the security system.

When her commander came in, she rose and prepared to give him a full status report.

"A moment of your time, Lieutenant." He gestured her across the room, near the whispering waterfall. His eyes were dark and tired. "Yost self-terminated."

"Sir?"

"He was remanded to federal custody two hours ago. They were checking him into maximum holding in their facility. The clerk had a cup of coffee on his desk. The son of a bitch managed to grab it, smash it, and still cuffed, slit his own throat with a shard."

"So he got the easy way after all," she murmured. "And cost me my link to Naples."

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir. Thank you for telling me."

"Agent Jacoby's condition is promising. His medical team believes his heart is responding to treatment. He's currently stable."

"That's good. And at least he won't be around to screw this up. If there's anything to screw up."

"I'd like to see this end with you. You remain in command." He glanced around the suite. "Looks like there's plenty of room for one more."

"Check out the dinner buffet," Eve said sourly. "We might still have egg rolls."

She stationed herself at the main bank of monitors in the living area. From there she could scan and search the target areas both interior and exterior. The night staff of the hotel went about its business, such as it was. Room service delivered or removed the occasional tray from guest rooms. A few guests returned from a night on the town while others strolled out to begin one.

Like the city, the building would never be completely quiet. Business and pleasure were twenty-four-hour activities.

She made an LC in short red satin crossing the lower lobby toward the exit. The woman looked smug and gave her little silver bag a pat. A nice fat tip, Eve assumed, then sharpened her focus as Liza passed the LC on her way in.

Liza glanced lazily around. A bit too lazily. A bit too thoroughly, Eve decided. "Feeney, take a look. I'd say our girl there has a recorder on. She's giving her pals an inside look."

"Enhance and magnify," Feeney ordered. "Sector eighteen through thirty-six." He made grunting noises as the image popped up, then ordered higher magnification on a smaller sector. Eve was treated to a very close view of Liza's cle**age.

"Now, that's beautiful."

"Jesus, Feeney."

He blinked, flushed. "I ain't talking about her, you know. The neck thing she's playing with. The dangle there's a microrecorder. State-of-the-f*cking-art, too. She's probably transmitting a three-sixty right now. And full audio. The doorman breaks wind, that baby'll pick it up."

"Can you jam it?"

"Oh yeah. I could jam a transmission from the moon with the equipment Roarke brought in." He looked so delighted by the idea, Eve had to wave him off.