Delusion in Death (In Death #35)(111)

“How long have you been on the door today?”

“Going onto five hours. I’d’ve seen her if she’d come out. I opened the door for her myself about three hours ago when she came back from shopping.”

“Okay. The other tenants on her levels. Are they in?”

“The Cartwrights are in Africa, doing a safari thing. Mr. Bennett hasn’t come in yet, and Mrs. Bennett and the boy went out about an hour ago. Mr. Jasper just went up. His wife and kids are up there.”

“Which unit?”

“Fifty-two-oh-four.” His eyes widened as three black-and-whites and two SWAT vehicles roared up. “What’s the deal? Jesus.”

“Peabody, if you’ve finished dreaming of cannolis, have Curtis here take you to the building manager, get this started.” She moved toward the SWAT commander. “Lowenbaum.”

“Dallas. Cold night.”

“It’s about to heat up.” She’d worked with him before, knew him to be steady and smart. Like his men, he wore black body armor, a helmet, and carried a long-range blaster. His eyes, a deceptively mild gray, scanned the building. “Have you analyzed the floor plans?”

“Done and done.” He pulled out some gum—she remembered, for some reason, he preferred blueberry—offered it. When she shook her head he folded a piece into his mouth, then took out his tablet.

They huddled over the floor plans.

“My e-guy here’s going to take out her security,” Eve told him. “Once your team’s secured the entrance, I need you to hold.”

She pulled out her ’link, printed out the warrant. “We’re a go there. There’s a biohazard team en route, but I’m not waiting on them. Have your coordinator send them in, the minute they arrive.”

“We’ve got mouth-breathers. You want?”

“They leave a bad taste in my mouth.”

“Tell me.” He nodded, tapped his earpiece. “My man says we’re having trouble with eyes and ears. She’s got it shielded.”

“Here’s the deal, Lowenbaum. My team’s going in, the team you select comes in behind us, helps us clear. She went in prior to the media report, and hasn’t come out this way. If she’s in there, we apprehend, incapacitate if necessary.”

She hesitated a moment. “You know me, right?”

He grinned at her. “Used to think maybe I’d know you better, but that didn’t happen.” He turned his grin to Roarke. “She wouldn’t give me the green.”

Roarke grinned back at him.

“You could say I took my shot.”

“Jesus.” Eve shook her head. “I’d like you on the clear team, and if I tell you to stun me and my people, do it.”

“That’s … unusual.”

“Maybe, but do it. Every room we go in, we open doors and windows. Blast them out if they’re sealed. I’ll get back to you.” She turned, moved fast to meet up with Baxter and Trueheart. “They’ve got mouth-breathers. You may want.”

“You carry around that crappy aftertaste for hours,” Baxter complained.

“Your choice. We take the central elevator. Roarke, take down her private. Trueheart, you head to Five-two-oh-four, get the family inside out and down. Baxter, you and Peabody go in from Fifty-three, clear it, open all windows and doors. If she’s up there, secure her, or take her down. Roarke and I go in on Fifty-two. Lowenbaum has men covering the terraces, moving now to secure all exits.”

“One old lady, right? A grandmother. Mine still makes the world’s best apple pie.”

“She’s nobody’s pie-making granny. Let’s go.”

Lowenbaum’s men had the lobby secure, and empty. Roarke shut down elevators one by one as teams reported positions.

“You don’t have body armor, LT.” Trueheart started to remove his own to give her.

“Keep it. I’ve got a magic coat.”

As Trueheart started to speak, Peabody nodded at him. “Seriously. She does.”

“Okay, cut the chatter.” She stepped off with Trueheart and Roarke into a white and gold foyer, pointed at the ceiling before the doors shut on Peabody, Baxter, and the other men. Pointed Trueheart in the direction of 5204. She shook her head when a SWAT guy stepped forward with a battering ram, pointed to Roarke.

He studied the locks as he drew out his picks.

Lowenbaum grinned again when the locks quietly gave way.

Again she nodded at Roarke, then held up three fingers. Two. One.

They hit the door hard. She went low, Roarke high, splitting off as SWAT rushed in behind them. “Get those terrace doors open!” She’d cleared the living area before she spotted the droid on the floor of a wide dining room.

She could smell the electrical burn in the air, noted the fried circuits spilling out of the back of the head of what had been a domestic droid.

Too late, she thought. They were too late. And she saw the proof of it when she, leading with her weapon, moved into a large kitchen done in soft green and golds.

She hadn’t bothered to tidy up, Eve noted, but had left the burners and tubes, the conductors and jars in plain view.

She’d been cooking—and she hadn’t made any damn pies.

She heard the calls of “Clear!” ringing out. Yeah, it’s clear, she thought. She’s cleared out, and taken her poison with her.