In Death 32 - Treachery in Death

give you time to play your geek games without me bugging you.”
    “There is that. You’ll engage your wire.”
    “Yeah. Everything on record. She’s the new guy,” Eve mused, “but in six months, if she’s any kind of cop, she knows, or senses something’s off. I’m going to give her a chance, and a reason, to talk about it.”
    “And if she doesn’t take that chance?”
    “I’ve wasted some time. But I’ve got a feeling.”
    “Best to follow it then.”
    And come back , he thought. To me.
    “Couple hours, tops,” she said. She gave him a quick kiss, and he could see her mind was already on her approach as she left.
    He stood for a moment, studying the best part of a pizza, and toyed with the button he kept, always, in his pocket. Trust, he reminded himself, was a two-way street. So he’d trust her to do her job, her way. And he’d go do the one he’d agreed to take on, in his.

    Eve made the tail in under five blocks.
    They were a little sloppy, sure, but she had the advantage of the superlative camera system built into the vehicle Roarke had designed for her.
    The tail employed a standard two-vehicle leapfrog, which told her two things. First, she’d worried—or had just pissed off—Renee enough for the woman to order two men to sit on her. And second, Renee wasn’t worried or pissed off enough to delegate a more effective shadow.
    Eve engaged her recorder. “I’ve got a tail, a two-point switch-off. Both departmental issues—for Christ’s sake, do they think I’m a moron?”
    Really, it was a little insulting.
    She read off the makes, models, licenses, then ordered her cams to zoom in on each to document before requesting a standard operator run.
    The vehicle currently two blocks behind her was assigned to Detective Freeman. The one breezing by her to circle around the block and take the rear again was assigned to a Detective Ivan Manford.
    “We’ll add you to the list, Ivan. Now, let’s play.”
    She cut over to Fifth, continued downtown, deliberately falling into a nice little knot of traffic. She faked a couple of attempts to thread through, watched Freeman’s vehicle swing by. Timing it, she pried her way between a Rapid Cab and a gleaming limo, bulled by, and nipped through a light as it went red.
    Manford would pass her to Freeman, she knew, until he could move back into position. But that would be a problem as Freeman had cut west. Eve hit vertical, skimmed over a lane, and to the music of angrily blaring horns, flashed east to play her own brand of leapfrog, nipping in front of a lumbering delivery truck whose driver stabbed up his middle finger.
    She couldn’t really blame him.
    She swung downtown on Lex, punched it, enjoying the speed and the occasional vertical lift, until she headed west again, shoving her way crosstown.
    “Chasing your own tails now,” she murmured, and though she preferred street parking, decided on an overpriced lot two blocks from Strong’s building.
    She tucked her vehicle between a couple of bulky all-terrains, engaged her security.
    Renee, she thought as she strolled through the warm summer night, would be very displeased.
    Working-class neighborhood, she noted, with plenty of people also out for a stroll, or hanging out at one of the tiny tables squeezed in front of tiny cafés or sandwich bars. Traffic rumbled by on its way somewhere else. Some of the shops remained open, hoping to entice some trade from the residents who were too busy earning a living to spend their pay during the day.
    She followed a Chinese delivery guy straight into Strong’s building, catching the door on the backswing. He angled off on the second floor of the walk-up, but the scent of kom pao chicken lingered while Eve climbed to three.
    Outside Strong’s apartment door Eve caught what sounded like a high-speed car chase. Watching some screen, she concluded. Tucked in for the night, security light a steady red. She flicked her gaze up, spotted the dark eye of a minicam.
    So Strong took security precautions, which to Eve’s mind made the detective smart enough to guard her own.
    Now, she supposed she’d see just what kind of cop Lilah Strong turned out to be.
    She lifted her fist and knocked.

14
    SHE HEARD THE YAP-YAP-YAP OF WHAT SOUNDED like a small canine, then the slide of bolt, the click of opening locks.
    The man who opened the door was big—Arena Ball-tackle big—with massive shoulders, tree-trunk legs, and bricklayer biceps.
    He gave her a friendly smile