In Death 17 - Imitation in Death

blueprint on the second screen. "We're installing cameras. The loft will be under constant observation. It's unlikely Renquist will use the elevator, but we'll have cameras there as well. And once he's inside the loft, the power to the elevator will be shut down, giving him only one exit. A team will move in to block that exit, another will be set on the street below in case he decides to take a header from the windows."
     
     
"Rat in a trap," Feeney commented.
     
     
"That's the idea. I'll be inside the loft, as will Officer Peabody, who will be briefed when her examination is finished. Captain Feeney will run electronics from Mitchell's home office inside the loft, and Detective McNab will head Observation Post C."
     
     
She ordered up the holo and brought a scaled-down version of the Mitchell loft into her office.
     
     
"Memorize it," she ordered. "Officer Peabody will be decoy. She and the target are approximately the same size and coloring. She'll be in the bed here, I'll be posted in this closet. Getting Renquist in the bedroom is optimum. No windows, no escape route."
     
     
"He'll be armed," McNab put in.
     
     
She nodded, noting the worry in his eyes. That was the trouble, she thought, when a cop fell for another cop. "So will we. It's possible he'll bring his own blades, or that he'll detour into the kitchen first to avail himself of Mitchell's kitchen stock. He may have a blaster or another weapon, though he has yet to utilize one. We will go into this assuming he's armed, as Marsonini habitually carried a blaster or stunner, and act accordingly."
     
     
She waited a beat. "We're working on finding him before tonight. He's in the city, and as he's emulating Marsonini, it's likely he's settled in somewhere near his target's home. Marsonini habitually had a good meal, with wine, on the evening before a murder. He dressed well, generally in suits by Italian designers, and carried his tools in an expensive briefcase. He did his work to opera, again Italian. He spoke with.an accent, though it was affected as he was born in St. Louis. History, details, and a complete bio of this subject are in your packs."
     
     
She waited again while members of the team shuffled and took out the bio. "Renquist will become Marsonini, attempt and likely succeed in copying his mannerisms, habits, and routines. You also have, in your packs, the projected image of how he'll look wearing the long red hair and sunshades. Now let's go over the details. If Renquist follows this pattern, this is going down tonight."
     
     
She spent another hour before dismissing her team. Since she'd seen McNab look at his purple-banded wrist unit three times during the briefing, she held him back.
     
     
"She's got another two hours. You'd better chill."
     
     
"Sorry. She was just so wigged this morning. She's going into the sims now. She keeps choking on the sims."
     
     
"If she chokes, she's not ready to make the grade. The timing blows on this, McNab, but the fact is we've got a lot more at stake here than Peabody getting her detective shield."
     
     
"I know it. She's so damn worried about letting you down she's turned her guts inside out."
     
     
"Jesus. It's not about me."
     
     
He pressed his lips together as if wrestling with a decision, then shrugged. "Yeah, it is. Sure it is. A big part of it. I wasn't supposed to tell you, but I figure you gotta know so if she messes up on this, you can handle it. Handle her."
     
     
"She better handle herself. She's going straight into this op when she's done, and she won't have the results. She better handle herself, and do the job."
     
     
He slipped his hands into his pockets and gave Eve a cheeky grin. "See, you know just how to handle her."
     
     
"Get out of here."
     
     
She sat on the corner of the desk for a moment, to clear Peabody out of her head. It was one thing to be responsible for lives, for justice. But it was a hell of a kick in the ass to be told you had somebody's psyche in your hands.
     
     
How the hell had it gotten there?
     
     
"Lieutenant?" Roarke stood in the doorway of their adjoining offices, watching her. "A minute of your time."
     
     
"Yeah." She rose to walk into the simulation of the Mitchell bedroom again, judging distances, angles, moves. "That's about all I've got for you. We could take him on the street," she said half to herself. "But Marsonini carried a blaster or stunner, so Renquist will have a blaster or stunner. If he gets to it,