In Death 20 - Survivor in Death

the silk of his hair tied back with a cord.
    Work mode.
    The console always looked a bit futuristic to her, just as the man who piloted it could remind her of a pirate at the helm of a spaceship.
    Lights flashed on that glossy black like jewels as he worked the controls, manually, and by voice.
    On the wall screens were different areas of his domain, and the various computer responses gave brisk reports.
    “Lieutenant.”
    “I’m sorry about this. I’m sorry about what I may be bringing here.”
    He stopped what he was doing. “Pause operations. You’re upset,” he said, as coolly as he’d spoken to the equipment. “So I’ll forgive that insulting remark.”
    “Roarke--”
    “Eve.” He rose, crossed the wide black floor toward her. “Are we a unit, you and I?”
    “Doesn’t seem to be any way around it.”
    “Or through it.” He took her hands and the contact steadied him. “Or under it, over it. Don’t apologize to me for doing what you felt was right for that child.”
    “I could’ve taken her to a safe house. I second-guessed myself on that half a dozen times today. If I had, Newman would know some of the locations. If they get them out of her . . . hell, not if, when. There are cops scrambling right now to move people out of what should be secure locations. Just in case.”
    Something flickered in his eyes. “A minute.” He moved back, fast, to the console, switched on a ‘link. “Dochas,” he snapped into it. “Code Red, immediate and until further notice.”
    “Oh Christ.”
    “It’s handled,” he said, turning from the ‘link. “I have built-in procedures for just this sort of thing. It’s unlikely they’ll believe you would take her there--with so many others. Less likely yet they can find it. But it’s handled. Just as this is.”
    He stepped back to her, nodded toward the screens. “I have every inch of the wall and gate secured.”
    “A teenager once got over using a homemade jammer.”
    The fact that he looked momentarily perturbed by the memory lightened her load. “Jamie is no ordinary teenager. Nor was he able to get through the secondaries. And I’ve upgraded since then. Believe me, Eve, they won’t get in.”
    “I do believe you.” Still she paced to the window, to look out, to see the walls for herself. “Newman doesn’t know I brought the kid here. Went over her on it, and didn’t tell her, mostly because she irritated me. Just a little slap. My balls are bigger than your balls kind of thing. Petty.”
    “Being petty--and I do love that about you--has added another layer of protection over Nixie.”
    “Dumb luck. But why argue with dumb luck? I’ve had her supervisor picked up, taken into protective. Had all the paperwork buried.” She huffed out a breath. “I’ve got Mira locked down, too, just in case her involvement leaks. She’s not happy with me.”
    “Her safety’s more important than her happiness.”
    “Put surveillance on Peabody’s place. She’s mine, so they may go for her.”
    “She and McNab can stay here.”
    “One big, happy family. No. We deviate from routine too much, they’ll know we’re waiting for them to make a move.”
    “Eve. You and I both know they’re unlikely to move on this house tonight, even if they believe the child is here. They’re careful, they’re organized. They’re controlled. They would have to obtain or simulate my system. Believe me when I say that alone would take them weeks. Then they’d have to find the chinks--of which there are none--they’d have to practice. If you haven’t run a probability on that, as I have, I’d be very surprised.”
    “A little over twelve percent.” She turned to him, framed now by the wide, wide glass. “But we don’t take chances.”
    “And the probability they’ll try for you?” He lifted his eyebrows when she said nothing, when he saw the faint irritation on her face. “Ninety-six.”
    “You’re right behind me, pal, at ninety-one.”
    “Bloody annoying to have you slip by me by five percent. You were working up to asking me--and I use that verb tongue in cheek--to lock myself down in here. Are we going to argue about that so that I have to throw that five percent probability in your face?”
    Thoughtfully, she rocked back and forth on her heels. “I had a pretty good argument worked out.”
    “Why don’t you save it for another time?”
    “I can do that.”
    The in-house ‘link signalled. “This is Roarke,” he said from where he stood,