He didn't speak, but his eyes, hot and blue, held hers for a long moment. In them she saw her lance had found its mark.
Oh yeah, she thought miserably, I got some great aim.
He turned back to the console. "I have all the data on the plans. I've made copies for you. Forewarned, my security will be able to handle it, but I assume you'll want to be there with your team. You'll have Naples and the rest within thirty-six hours."
And if someone died before then? he thought. If I've cost a friend's life to save a friend?
"If you have any questions," he began, then simply stopped. "I can't be other than what I am," he said quietly. "Whatever I've done to distance myself, I can't be other than what I am. Computer, copy all data on disc."
She waited while the computer completed the task, then took the discs from Roarke when he offered them.
"I hope to God he was worth it," she said, and left him alone.
She called her team first, requested they convene at her home office, then headed to Mick's room to toss it in hopes she'd find some clue where he'd gone.
She was ripping through the bureau when Summerset came in and froze in absolute horror.
"Lieutenant! That is a Chippendale, a valuable antique that must be treated with respect."
"A lot of things need to be treated with respect, and don't get it."
She dumped the empty drawer aside, and turned to drag the bedspread and sheets off the bed.
"Stop it! Stop it at once." He snagged the duvet, tugged. "This is antique Irish lace over silk."
"Look, ace, I'm in the mood to bash someone's face in, and yours is looking pretty good to me." She yanked, he yanked, and they snarled at each other over the tug-of-war.
She let go abruptly and had the satisfaction of watching him stumble back three steps before coming up hard against the wall.
"When did he leave? Connelly? What did he take with him? What was his transpo?"
Summerset merely sucked air through his nose.
"Look, you know what he did, what he planned to do. Roarke would have filled you in by now." You, she thought with some bitterness, but not me. "You want him to get away with it?"
"It's not my decision."
"Hell with that. They sent Yost after you."
"Mick would not have had a part in that arrangement."
She threw up her hands, kicked the bed hard enough to make Summerset leap forward to check for damage. "What is wrong with you people? Connelly is involved up to his teeth. You had no business, Roarke had no damn right, to let him walk out of this house."
"What choice did he have?" Satisfied the antique footboard had sustained no damage, he turned to study her. "Do you understand him so little, after all?"
"Does he understand me so little," she shot back. "After all."
Summerset laid the now-wrinkled duvet on the bed. He owed her something, he thought, for the morning. "You feel he betrayed you by standing for his friend."
"A friend doesn't plot to steal from a friend."
Summerset smiled. "Mick wouldn't have thought of it that way. Neither, at the bottom of it, would Roarke. You do. You're angry, and you have a right to your anger. But it will burn off. Roarke suffers, and that will fester. Is that what you want for him?"
He stepped out of the room.
Tired, frustrated, Eve sat on the bed. The cat padded in, leaped up. He turned three tight circles, kneaded the silk and lace duvet with some enthusiasm, then curled up and stared directly into her face…
"Don't you start on me. You slept with the guy, for God's sake. What does that make you?"
She put out an all-points on Michael Connelly, though she expected he would be well into the wind. Her only hope was that word didn't spread from Mick to Naples to Yost before she closed in.
But even if the heist was aborted, she believed Yost would stick. He'd contracted for Summerset, and he wasn't the type to leave a job unfinished. It would give her time.
And if she was lucky, very lucky, she could use Yost to hook Naples. Her case would not be closed in her mind until she had them both.
"We proceed on the assumption that the hotel will be the target," she told her team. "Everything is set for it. Even if Connelly has bolted, Naples can still implement. He has all the data, and has gone to considerable expense. He'll want to make good on his investment."
"If Connelly goes to him," Feeney put in, "they may still try for it, but they'll shift strategy. They may hit sooner, or wait, come at it from another angle."
"Agreed. We put our counter-plan into place expecting adjustments, and expecting them to hit at any time."
"We'll need Roarke and his top security team," McNab commented.
"I'm aware of that. Feeney, would you discuss that level with Roarke?" She gestured to the adjoining door.
He got up, knocked, and passed through.
"Study the Connelly data until you know it backwards," Eve ordered, then went into the kitchen for coffee, and a moment alone.
Peabody slid her eyes toward McNab, away, then back again. She was getting damn sick of the silent treatment. She hadn't done anything. He was the one who had jumped right on some redhead. Oh yeah, she'd gotten the word on that minor orgy through the grapevine. Little prick.
"Have a good time on your date?"
"Oh yeah. It rocked."
"You bite."
"Is that an invitation?
She sniffed. "I don't go around with jerks who bounce on bimbos."
"I don't go around with jerkettes who bounce on LCs," he tossed back.
"At least an LC knows how to treat a woman."
"Sure, if you pay him enough." He crossed his legs, examined the toes of his new Airstream boots. "What's the matter, Peabody, Charles's calendar too full? You sound like a woman who isn't getting any."
"Screw you."
"Any time, Peabody. You can even have it for free."
She leaped up. So did he. "I wouldn't let you touch me again if you paid me."
"Fine. I don't have time on some stiff-assed, cornbread uniform."
"Break it up," Eve ordered. "Now!" If she wasn't mistaken, her aide was on the verge of tears. And McNab didn't look far behind. They were both giving her a bitch of a headache. "Private business on your own time, damn it. The two of you will work together through this, around this, or under this, I don't give a damn how you manage it. But when you're on my watch, you stand up and do the job. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir." It came from both of them, at a mumble, and would have to satisfy.
"Peabody, check on Lane at the hospital, and see that the tag on Liza is still in place. I want an update on both. McNab, run a full analysis of Connelly's data. I want all possible adjustment scenarios on my desk within two hours."
"Sir, Roarke – "
"Did I give you an order, Detective, or ask for a discussion?"
"An order, Lieutenant."
"Then follow it." She marched to Roarke's door, pushed it open. Both he and Feeney were behind the console. Both looked up.
"Feeney, I've started McNab on an analysis. Will you see he gets started?"
"No problem."
She waited until the door shut after him. "I'm tired," she said, "I have a headache, and I'm pissed off at you."
"Well, that should about cover it."
"No, it doesn't. I don't have the time or the energy to waste having a sniping match with you like the one I just had the misfortune to overhear between Peabody and McNab. You were wrong to let Connelly go. But that's from where I stand. From where you stand, you did what you had to. We can't come together on that, but we need each other to finish this job. When it's finished, we'll have to deal with the fact that we're standing on opposite sides of a line. Until then, it's tabled."