In Death 06 - Vengeance in Death

again, cursing now, threatening, weeping.
    "This would be fun, but I have a schedule." He moved to the ladder, climbed nimbly while Pat's pleas and threats echoed up to him. "It'll take nearly an hour for the water to cover your head at the speed I'll use. An hour," he repeated, grinning at Pat through the glass wall as he climbed down. "You'll be nearly insane by then. The water will rise, inch by inch. Ankles, knees, waist. You'll be straining against the shackles until your ankles are raw and bleeding and burning but it won't help. Waist, chest, neck."
    Still smiling he turned to the controls, adjusting until the water poured through the side channels.
    "Why are you doing this, you bloody bastard?"
    "You have nearly an hour to think about that."
    He knelt, crossed himself, folded his hands, and offered a prayer of celebration and gratitude.
    "You're praying? You're praying?" Struggling to focus, Pat stared at the statue of the Virgin as the water rose over her robes. "Mother of God," he whispered. "Dear Mother of God." And he prayed himself, as fiercely, as fervently as he ever had in his life. If she would intercede on his behalf, he would swear by her mercy never to lift a bottle to his lips again.
    For a silent five minutes, the supplicates, one in the tank, one outside it, mirrored each other.
    Then one rose lightly and smiled. "It's too late for prayers. You've been damned since you sold a life to a devil for profit."
    "I never did. I don't know you." The water licked slyly at his knees, urging Pat to struggle up. "You've got the wrong man."
    "No, you're just one ahead of schedule." Because he had time before he needed to make the necessary calls, he went behind the bar and helped himself to a soft drink as Pat shouted and begged for mercy. No spirits had ever passed his lips.
    "I hope you remember me before you're dead, Pat. I hope you remember who I am and who I come from."
    He broke the seal on the tube, carried it around the bar. Humming again, he set a chair directly in front of the tank and took his seat. And, sipping, watched the show.
    It was exactly five a.m. when the 'link woke her. She shot up, fully alert, heart roaring in her chest. It took only an instant to realize it wasn't the 'link signal that had her pulse racing, but the dream it had interrupted.
    And she knew it was him.
    "Block video, set trace." She held a hand behind her to nudge Roarke back. "Dallas."
    "You thought you could win by cheating, but you were wrong. All you did was postpone fate. I'll still kill Brian Kelly. A different time, a different place."
    "You screwed up, pal. I could see you sweating when you realized we were waiting for you. We knew exactly what you were going to do, and how you planned to do it."
    "You didn't stop me. You couldn't get near me."
    "We're so close you feel our breath on the back of your neck."
    "Not so close. 'Who scream? Who shriek? Who have strife? Who have anxiety? Who have wounds for nothing? Who have black eyes? Those who linger long over wine, those who engage in trails of blended wine.' I'm watching a man die. He's dying now. Do you want to hear who screams and shrieks?"
    Quickly he switched off the filter and opened the 'link to the room.
    Screams and sobs exploded through Eve's speaker and iced her blood. "Now who's cheating?" she demanded. "You're going to kill him, then give me a clue. That's what you did with Brennen. What kind of game is it if you don't take any risks?"
    "He's not dead yet. I think you have almost, almost enough time."
    She was already out of bed and dragging on clothes. "Where's the clue?"
    "I'm even going to make this one easy for you. Dine and dance and watch the naked mermaids. It's after hours, but come on in. The water's fine. He's starting to gurgle, Lieutenant. Don't take too long."
    Sick of him, she cut the transmission herself. "It's a club," she said to Roarke as she strapped on her weapon harness.
    "The Mermaid Club. Naked water dancers."
    "Then that's our best shot." She stepped into the elevator with him. "He's going to drown this one." She looked at Roarke as she pulled out her communicator to call in. "You don't own the Mermaid Club, do you?"
    "No." His eyes were hard. "But I used to."

CHAPTER NINETEEN
    The sun was breaking over the East River as they shot southward through the still-slumbering uptown. Clouds scooted over the light, moving lazily, making it the thick color of powder.
    Roarke chose to keep the car on manual, and avoided Broadway with