Divided in Death (In Death #18)(35)

"That would be my take, but it sounds like a question for Mira."

"Yeah." She would get to that, and soon. "Anyway, they're a type. Like the artsy scene, and showing themselves off. Even if it's cover, they have to be into it. And on another level, it must take a certain type to go into covert work, on the long haul. You live a lie, you set up an identity, a persona that's part reality, part fantasy. How else could you make it work?"

"I'll agree that Bissel and Kade appear to be more suited than Bissel and Reva-at least on the surface."

"Okay, but they need Reva. They need, want, or have been assigned to infiltrate Securecomp. Felicity approaches Reva first, makes pals. Maybe feels her out. But for whatever reason Reva's not a good candidate for the HSO."

"She's worked for the government," Roarke pointed out. "Nearly died for it. She's loyal, and the administration she was attached to had no great affection for the HSO, as I recall."

"Politics." Eve blew out a breath. "Makes me screwy. But if we take it down to 'she's not a candidate for covert,' it doesn't mean she's not a good resource for the HSO. So they bring in Bissel. Romance, sex. But the marriage, that says they expected her to be of long-term use."

"And disposable."

She turned back to him. "It's tough to see a friend get kicked around this way. I'm sorry."

"I wonder if it'll be easier on her, or harder, knowing all this."

"Whichever, she'll have to cope. She doesn't have a lot of options." She nodded toward the wall screens. "These two were using her as an information source, and it's probable they planted various devices in the home, in her data unit, her vehicles, maybe on her person. She was their plant, an unwitting mole, and odds are they tapped her for plenty. No point in keeping up the charade of marriage and friendship if it wasn't paying off."

"Agreed." And the fact that it must have been paying off was, he imagined, going to cause him considerable annoyance. "But what point is there in eliminating two operatives? If it was an in-house assassination, it seems wasteful. Outside, it seems like overkill. Messy, Eve, either way."

"Messy, but it had the potential of taking out three key players." She drummed her fingers on her hips. "There's more. Has to be more. Maybe Bissel and Kade screwed up. Maybe they tried playing both sides. Maybe they blew their cover. We need to pick our way through their lives. I need all the data you can get me on them. And since we're playing with spooks, screw the rules."

"Could you say that again? The screw the rules part. It's such music to my ears."

"You're going to enjoy this one, aren't you?"

"I believe I am." But he didn't look pleased when he said it. He looked dangerous. "Someone has to pay for what's been done to Reva. I'll enjoy being part of that payment."

"There's an advantage to having a friend as scary as you."

"Come sit on my lap and say that."

"Get the data, pal. I need to call in, check with the men on Reva's house. I don't want anybody sliding in there before we sweep it for devices in the morning."

"If there were bugs, they'd have had an exterminator of their own."

"They had to move fast between the time Reva received the package and the hit, then her arrival." She combed a hand through her hair as she went over the time line. "If they moved right in maybe they swept it out. But somebody was at the Flatiron. Seems to me that an op like this, double murder, would require a small, tight team. Don't want too many in the know."

"It's Homeland," Roarke reminded her. "Orders to sweep out a private residence wouldn't require the exterminators being apprised of the reason."

"Just following orders," she mumbled and envisioned the bloody mess in Felicity Kade's bed. What kind of person gave orders for that kind of brutality? Not assassination, she thought. No way to clean up vicious, bloody murder.

"Yeah, you've got a point. Still, if orders did come down, they could've missed something."

***

They worked another two hours before he convinced her it was all he could do for the night. He talked her into bed, and when he was certain she slept, he got up, went back. And did more.

It wasn't difficult to access his file as he was already into the main. They had less hard data on him than he'd anticipated. Hardly more, he noted, than was public knowledge-or that he'd adjusted, personally, for public knowledge.

There were a number of suspecteds, allegeds, probables running through his somewhat checkered career. Most of them were true enough, but there were a few sins ascribed to him that weren't on his actual plate.

That hardly mattered.

It amused more than annoyed him to find that twice he'd been romantically involved with an operative assigned to him in the hopes of eliciting information.

He lit a cigarette, tipped back in his chair as he remembered the two women with some fondness. He supposed he couldn't complain. He'd enjoyed their company, and was confident enough that though their primary mission had failed, they'd enjoyed his.

They didn't know about his mother, and that was a tremendous relief. Officially, Meg Roarke was listed as his mother, and that was fine by him. What did it matter to the HSO who had birthed him? A young girl foolish enough to love and believe in a man like Patrick Roarke wasn't of any interest.