Seduction In Death

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Because she understood his feelings exactly – and his way with words when riled was even more inventive than she was – Eve let Feeney rant, rave, and spew.

And didn't mention the fact that he'd answered the 'link wearing pajamas with little red hearts on them and that the music in the background was some bass-voiced singer crooning about making sweet love to his woman.

It seemed she wasn't the only one who'd had seduction in the plans for the evening.

"We'll get him back," she said when Feeney ran down to sputters. "I'm going to order surveillance on the mother's place and his townhouse. I don't think he'll rabbit, but I don't want to risk it. Get me something on those electronics, Feeney. Find me something to add to the pile."

"Judge oughta be stripped down, dragged through the streets, with a big sign that says BRAIN-DEAD FUCKFACE tied to his dick."

"Yeah, well, that's a pleasant and satisfying image, but I'll settle for a quick overturn on the bail. You'll tag McNab."

"Probably bouncing on Peabody," Feeney barked. "Talk about rabbits."

Eve decided it showed great restraint and sterling character for her not to mention the heart pajamas at such a prime opening. "If he is, I don't want to know about it, but you can tell Peabody to stand by for data. You pull anything out, she can follow it through."

"You don't want her with you on the take-down?"

"No, I've got another cop coming along. Whitney."

"Jack?" Feeney's drooping face brightened like a boy's. "No shit?"

"No shit. What do I do with him, Feeney? If we run into anything hinky, am I supposed to give him orders?"

"You're primary."

"Yeah, yeah." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'll play it by ear. Get me something. Oh, and Feeney? Love the pjs."

She broke transmission. Okay, maybe she didn't have such a sterling character.

She called in, requested surveillance on the two locations, then got up to pace off the time.

What was taking the PA so long? She should probably go downstairs. And play hostess. She was better at it than she'd been a year ago. Not good at it, but better. Still, she usually did that duty when there were groups, business dinners, or parties where there were so many people, giving anyone a lot of personal attention wasn't necessary.

Casual conversation and small talk were Roarke's strengths not hers. She took the coward's way and stalled by going back to the bedroom for her weapon harness.

The minute she strapped it on, she felt more in control.

Lucias felt the same way. In control. The rage, theinsult, was a black, bubbling brew beneath the ice. And if from time to time it burned a hole through, he was still in control.

He'd known his mother would whine and beg and weep for him. She was so predictable. Women were, to his way of thinking. They were, by nature, weak and submissive. They required direction and a firm hand. His grandfather, then his father, had always given his mother a firm hand.

He was simply carrying on the McNamara-Dunwood tradition.

Dunwood men ran the show. Dunwood men were winners.

Dunwood men deserved respect, obedience, and unquestioning loyalty. They were not to be treated like common criminals, to be pushed around, locked in a cage,questioned.

And they were never, never to be betrayed.

Naturally they'd let him go. He'd never doubted he'd be released. He'd never go to prison, never allow himself to be locked away like an animal.

He would, one way or the other, come out of this the winner.

But that didn't make up for the humiliation of being dragged behind bars, taken into a courtroom. Deprived of his rights.

He'd deal with Eve Dallas. Under it all she was just a woman. God knew women should never be put in positions of authority or power. That, at least, had been something he and his late unlamented grandparent had agreed on.

He'd bide his time with her, plan carefully. Pick his time and place. When he was ready he'd pay her back for laying hands on him, for spoiling the game. For the public embarrassment she'd caused him.

A quiet place, a private interlude. Oh yes, he intended to have a very hot date with Lieutenant Dallas. This time she'd be the one in restraints. When she was loaded with Whore, begging for the one thing women truly wanted, he wouldn't even fuck her.

He'd hurt her. Oh yes, he'd give her pain – exquisite pain – but he'd deny her that final, glorious release.

She'd die desperate, just another bitch in heat.

The idea made him hard, and the hardening only proved he was a man.

But Dallas and her punishment would wait. There was, he knew, a natural order to things.

And first there was Kevin.

A lifetime friendship was no buffer against the sin of disloyalty. Kevin had to pay, and in paying would essentially ensure Lucias's own vindication.

He'd groomed himself carefully for this particular task. His hair was a gleaming copper, worn like a snug helmet over his skull. His complexion milk-white. His name was Terrance Blackburn, as his identification would verify. And he was Kevin Morano's attorney of record.

There were flaws. Lucias could admit there were flaws in the disguise. But the need to hurry outweighed the need to polish every small detail.

In any case, he knew people generally saw what they expected to see. He looked a great deal like Blackburn, would identify himself as such. He wore the sharp, conservative suit of a successful criminal attorney. Carried the expensive leather briefcase. Fixed the sober and aloof expression on his face.

He passed through the levels of security at Central without trouble. When he demanded a consultation with his client, he elicited annoyance more than interest from the duty cop.

He submitted coolly to the cursory pat-down, to having the contents of his briefcase x-rayed once again. And when he was shown into a consultation room, he sat, folded his hands, and waited for his client.

Seeing Kevin escorted in wearing a baggy fluorescent orange jumpsuit, put a nice, chilly scrim over Lucias's bubble of rage. His friend's face appeared gray and drawn above the hideous prison clothes. But he looked momentarily hopeful when he spotted Lucias.

"Mr. Blackburn, I wasn't expecting you to come back tonight. You said you were arranging for me to go into Testing tomorrow, to show my emotional and mental dependence. Is there something new, something better?"

"We'll discuss it." When Kevin sat, Lucias waved the guard away with an absent gesture and opened the briefcase. The door closed with a satisfying snick. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrible." He linked and unlinked his fingers. "I'm in a cell alone. Lieutenant Dallas, she kept her word on that. But it's dark, and it – it smells. And there's no privacy, none at all. I really don't think I can go to prison, Mr. Blackburn. It just isn't possible. There must be a way to arrange Testing so that it comes out in my favor. I could spend some time in a private rehabilitation facility, or – or accept at-home incarceration. But I can't possibly go to prison."

"We'll just have to find a way to avoid that."

"Really?" Relieved, Kevin leaned forward. "But before you said… well, it doesn't matter. Thank you. Thank you. I feel so much better knowing you'll make some arrangements."

"I'll need more money. To smooth the path."

"Anything. Anything you need." Kevin buried his face in his hands. "I can't stay in this place. I don't know how I'll make it through even one night."

"You need to stay calm. Let me get you some water." He rose, crossed over to the water cooler in the corner. And as he filled a cup, added the contents of the vial he wore on a chain under his shirt.

"Your confession," Lucias added as he brought the cup back, "clearly states that Lucias Dunwood was to blame. It was his game, and one he was winning."

"I feel terrible about that. What else could I do? The things Dallas said would happen to me." He gulped at the water. "And it's not my fault. Anyone can see it's not my fault. I'd never have gone so far without Lucias egging me on."

"He's smarter than you. Stronger."

"No. No, he's not. He's just… Lucias. He's competilive. Inventive. I can't help it if it came down to him or me. Anyway…" Kevin worked up a weak smile. "I guess, at this point, I won the game."

"Do you think so? You couldn't be more wrong."

"I don't know what you…" His vision swam, went gray at the edges. "I don't feel very well."

"You'll pass out first," Lucias said softly. "Just slide under. You'll be dead before they get you to the infirmary. You should've been loyal, Kev."

"Lucias?" Panicked, he tried to rise, but his legs buckled. "Help me. Somebody help me."

"It's much too late." Lucias got to his feet, slid the chain from around his neck and looped it around Kevin's. Tucked it neatly under the jumpsuit.

"You can't mean to do this." Kevin gripped Lucias's arm weakly. "Lucias, you can't mean to kill me."

"I have killed you. But painlessly, Kev, for old times' sake. They'll think self-termination at first. It'll take them a while to figure out your visitor wasn't Blackburn. And since I'm at home with Mother, it couldn't have been me. One consolation," he added as Kevin crumbled to the floor, "you won't go to prison."

He reached over, closed the briefcase, brushed at his suit jacket. "Our game's over," he mumbled. "I win." He hit the panic button under the table, then crouched down, began tapping Kevin's cheeks with his hand.

"He passed out," he told the guard. "Went into a rant about not being able to stand the thought of prison, then collapsed. He needs medical attention."

And while his dying friend was being carried to medical, Lucias Dunwood walked briskly out of Cop Central.

Whitney and Roarke were sharing after-dinner coffee and cigars when Eve walked in. She actually heard Whitney laugh – not the low rumbling chuckle she'd occasionally heard out of him – but a big, rollicking belly laugh that stopped her in her tracks.

He was still grinning from it when she managed to unstick her feet and continue into the dining room.

"I don't know how the pair of you stay so fit with the menu to choose from in this place."

Amusement slid slyly over Roarke's face as he lifted his cup. "We… work out a lot. Isn't that right, darling?"

"Yeah, exercise is the key to good health. I'm glad you enjoyed your meal, sir. Feeney's on the electronics. I've arranged for surveillance on Dunwood's townhouse and his mother's home. Peabody's standing by to run any new data as it comes in. I goosed CSU, and they report they found blood on the living room floor and rug that matches McNamara's type. O Neg. Dunwood's also O Neg, but with some pressure on the tech on duty at the lab I had him run the full DNA. Early indications are it's McNamara's, sir. We'll confirm that before morning."

Whitney puffed on the cigar, a small luxury his wife denied him. "Do you ever wind down, Dallas?" At her blank look, he shook his head. "Sit down. Have some coffee. Everything's being done that can be done. We can't move until the PA reports in."

"She won't argue if it's an order," Roarke pointed out.

"I hate to, in her own house. Please." Whitney pointed to a chair. "Roarke tells me you're off to Mexico for two weeks. Have you put in for the time?"

"No, sir." Restless and reluctant, she sat. "I'll take care of it in the morning."

"Consider it taken care of. You're an exceptional cop, Lieutenant. Exceptional cops burn out faster than mediocre ones. A good marriage helps. I can attest to that. Children," he added, then laughed at her expression of sheer horror. "When the time comes. Friendships. Family. In other words, a life. Outside the job. Without it, you can forget why you do what you do. Why it matters that every time you close a case and put one down, there's one less."

"Yes, sir."

"I think since I've sat here eating your food, smoking your man's very excellent cigar, you could call me Jack."

She thought about it for about three seconds. "No, sir. I'm sorry. I can't."

He leaned back, blew a lazy smoke ring. "Ah well," he said, and his communicator beeped.

He went from relaxed to command in a single heartbeat. "Whitney."

"Bail is hereby revoked," the PA announced. "Lucias Dunwood is to be remanded into custody, all charges holding, immediately. Copies of the revocation order and new warrant transmitting now."

Whitney waited while they spit out of the data slot. "Good work." He shoved the communicator away. "Lieutenant. Let's go do the job."

When Roarke rose as well, Whitney inclined his head. "The civilian consultant on this case has requested permission to accompany us, and that request has been granted." He handed her the paperwork. "Do you have a problem with that. Lieutenant? As primary."

She sucked in a breath as Roarke gave her an easy smile. "A lot of good it would do me, so no, sir, I have no problem with it."

Sarah Dunwood lived in a two-level apartment in a quiet building only blocks from her son. Security pissed around with the usual "retired for the evening," "not receiving visitors," until Eve drilled through the muck with badge, warrant, and bitter threats.

"Impressive" Whitney commented as they stepped on the elevator. "But tell me, is it technologically possible to rip out a mother board and stuff it up a computer's ass?"

"I've never had to follow through, sir. The threat's usually sufficient. Dunwood's likely to resist," she continued. "He won't like being thwarted this way, and his instinct will be to attack before his control snaps back." She hesitated. "Commander, I'd like to arm the consultant. For his own protection."

"That's your call, Lieutenant."

Nodding, she bent down, released her clutch piece from its ankle grip. "It's on low stun, and it stays there. It doesn't come into your hand, it is not deployed unless you're in immediate physical jeopardy. Clear?"

"Crystal, Lieutenant." Roarke slid the weapon into his pocket as they stepped out on the Dun woods' floor.

"I'm at point," she continued. "We do this fast. Go in, locate, and restrain. I want you to clear any and all civilians out of the area."

She buzzed, and the instant the door opened, pushed inside. "Police. Bail for Lucias Dunwood has been revoked. He's ordered to turn himself over to my authority immediately."

"You can't come in this way! Miss Sarah! Miss Sarah!"

Roarke drew the shrieking maid aside, clearing Eve's path. "You'll want to sit down now, before you get hurt."

Scanning entries and exits, Eve strode into the living area. Her fingers twitched toward her weapon, then away again as a woman came rushing down the stairs.

"What is it? What's the matter? Who are you?"

She was a small, rail-thin woman with a gleam of curly red hair, disordered now, and a mildly pretty face spoiled by bruising under her left eye and along the soft curve of her jaw.

"Mrs. Dunwood?"

"Yes, I'm Mrs. Dunwood. You're the police. You're the woman who arrested my son."

"I'm Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD." She offered her badge, but her eyes tracked for any movement and her ears were pricked for any sound. "Lucias Dunwood's bail has been revoked. I'm here to take him into custody."

"You can't. I paid. The judge – "

"I have the revocation order and the warrant. Mrs. Dunwood, is your son upstairs?"

"He's not here. You can't have him."

"Did he do that to your face?" „

There was terror now in the pitch of her voice. "I fell. Why won't you leave him alone?" She began to cry. "He's just a boy."

"That boy killed your father."

"That's not true. That can't be true." She covered her face with her hands and broke into wild sobs.

"Commander?"

"Go. Mrs. Dunwood, you need to sit down."

Leaving the men to deal with the hysteria, Eve laid her hand on her weapon and started her search. She went upstairs first, trusting Lucias could be dealt with if he made any move on the lower level. She swept each room, entered, searched. When she came to a locked door, she drew out her master, bypassed the locks.

He'd kept a room here, she noted as she stepped inside. A pampered, indulged boy's room full of high-class toys. The entertainment unit spread over an entire wall – video, audio, screen, game components. The data and communication center took up most of an L-shaped counter. Shelves were stocked tight with discs, books, mementos.

There was a mini-lab, fully equipped, set up in the adjoining room.

In both areas, the drapes were drawn tight over the windows, the doors locked to the outside hallways. It was a little world of secrets, she thought.

She searched the closets first, found more wigs stored in clear boxes along with what she assumed he considered his secondary wardrobe.

In the bath she found traces of face putty and face base on the counter.

No, he wasn't here, she thought. And he hadn't walked out as himself.

Holstering her weapon, she walked back to the data center.

"Computer, display last opened file, image or data."

Cannot comply without password…

"We'll see about that." She hurried out, went to the top of the stairs. "Roarke, I need you a minute."

She walked back through the bedroom into the lab and helped herself to a can of Seal-It.

"The maid claims Dunwood and his mother had a shouting match," Roarke told her as he came in. "Or rather, Dunwood did the shouting. She heard his mother crying, heard the sound of blows. That's when she ran out of the kitchen area. She heard him slam out, and found Mrs. Dunwood on the floor. Apparently, it's not the first time he's used his fists on her. Like his grandfather and father before him. The father's in Seattle on business. He doesn't spend much time here."

"Big, happy family. I want whatever you can get me out of this, last work first. It's passcoded. If you have to touch anything, use this."

She tossed him the sealant. "I'll be back in a minute."

She left him to it, went downstairs. "He's not on the premises," she told the commander. "Mrs. Dunwood, where did Lucias go?"

"For a walk. He just went out for a walk. His mind's troubled."

I'll say,Eve thought, but crouched down. "Mrs. Dunwood, you're not helping him. You're not helping yourself. The longer it takes to find him, the harder it's going to go on him. Tell me where he is."

"I don't know. He was upset and angry."

"How was he dressed when he left?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do. He disguised himself again. And you knew when you saw him that way, you knew in some part of yourself that he'd done everything he's been accused of."

"I don't. I don't believe it."

Eve turned away when her communicator signaled. She strode out of earshot, listened. Then she gave the order for an APB.

"Kevin Morano's dead." She said it flatly, watched shock and horror pale Mrs. Dunwood's face.

"Kevin? No. No."

"He was poisoned. He had a visitor this evening in a consultation room. You know what that visitor looked like, don't you, Mrs. Dunwood? Your son went to visit his friend, and he killed him. Then he walked away."

"How the hell did he get through security?" Whitney demanded to know.

"By looking like this." Roarke came back in, held out a hard copy of an image. "This data was the last work on his computer."

"Blackburn," Eve said, without looking at the printout. "Morano's attorney of record. They'd have passed him through with minimal checks. He's a well-known criminal attorney."

"There's something else." Roarke offered her another printout. "The rules of the game."

SEDUCE AND CONQUER,Eve read,a contest of romantic and sexual exploits between Lucias Dunwood and Kevin Morano.

And scanned the rest.

It was all there, meticulously organized and detailed. The setup, the rules, the payoff system, the goals.

Disgust tightened her belly as she whirled back. "Look at this," she ordered Sarah Dunwood. "Read this. This is what he's done. This is what he is." She pushed the sheet under Mrs. Dunwood's face.

"Do you want to leave me with nothing?" Tears spilled down her cheeks as she stared at Eve rather than the printout. "I carried him in my body. After months of tests and treatments, of grief and hope, I made him inside me. Will you leave me with nothing?"

"I'm not the one leaving you with nothing, Mrs. Dunwood. He's taken care of that himself." She turned away again, and ordered two uniforms up to the apartment.

"He needs a place to remove the disguise," she said as they left the apartment. "He'll come back here eventually, but he doesn't have all his things here. He'll want more of his toys. Clothes."

She tried to put herself in his head. "Gotta ditch the disguise first. He'll know we'll come around to him with Morano's death. He can't afford to leave any trace of that around. But he thinks we're slow and stupid. He's so much smarter. He'll hurry, but he won't rush. He'll go home, take off the face and hair. Clean up. Spend some time gloating, packing some things up, destroying anything he thinks might be incriminating."

"You put men on the house," Whitney reminded her. "They'll spot him."

"Maybe, maybe not. Because he'll expect them to be there. Will you drive, sir?" she asked as they stepped outside. "I need the civilian to draw me a picture."

He drove fast, and without sirens. Whitney's eyebrows lifted, but he said nothing when at Eve's request Roarke quickly called up blueprints of the townhouse on his PPC.

"You got holo-features on there?"

"Naturally. Display data holographically." The image spilled out into Eve's lap.

She studied it. And planned. "We'll move the surveillance team to the rear. One man in, one man out. Additional men entering here, and here. We go in the front. Roarke, you'll go left, and up the stairs. The commander right to sweep the main level. I'll take the steps down. He's got full security, with video, so if he's paying attention, and he pays attention, he'll know we're coming. Watch each other's backs because at the core, he's a coward."

While she committed the holo to memory, she called for additional backup.

When they pulled up behind the surveillance vehicle, she hopped out, demanded status. She detailed the situation, gave her orders quickly.

"Seal hasn't been breached," Whitney commented as they approached the front.

"He wouldn't use the main door. There are three other entrances, twelve first-story windows." She detoured at a jog to the side of the house farthest away from the surveillance. "Broken glass," she reported. "He's in there."

Both she and Whitney pulled out masters. "I beg your pardon, sir."

"No. Forgot myself. Go." He replaced the master with his weapon.

She uncoded the seal. "On three."

"She likes to go in low," Roarke told Whitney, and on Eve's count went in the door with her, high.

They speared off, three arrows. Eve called out the required warning as she took the stairs to the lower level with her back to the wall.

The droid met her at the bottom.

"I am programmed to deflect, restrain, or impede any and all unauthorized intruders on these premises. If you attempt to come any farther, I will be forced to cause you physical harm."

"Back off. We're the police, fully authorized and warranted to enter these premises and remand Lucias Dunwood into custody."

"I am programmed to deflect, restrain, or impede," he began, moving toward her.

"Fuck this," she muttered, and blasted him.

While he sparked and shuddered, she kicked him aside. "Lights on," she ordered, and didn't bother to swear when her order was ignored. She moved in the dark, leading with her weapon each time she approached a doorway.

At the soft sound of footsteps behind her, she whirled, finger twitching. "Goddamn it, Roarke."

"You have two men covering the first level. Additional backup on the way. This'll go faster with two of us down here. And," he continued, moving up to guard her back, "down here is where he is."

Her instincts told her the same. Which was why she'd taken the area personally.

"Lab's going to be straight back," she said quietly, though she'd already picked up the security cameras tucked into the corners of the ceiling. "He's boxed in, but he's ready for us."

The door was locked.

"I'm going to bypass," she whispered in Roarke's ear. "He'll expect us to rush. That's what he's ready for. Don't go through the door until I give the signal."

She slipped the locks, kicked the door, then spun away.

The move saved her. Something crashed in the dark near the toes of her boots. She saw the smoke, heard the hiss, and was forced to sidestep before the acid eating into the floor hit leather.

There was a flash from inside. She felt a bright, shocking pain in her left shoulder. "Shit!"

"You're hit." Roarke dived across the open doorway, blocked her body with his as another series of blasts shot through like lightning bolts.

"Just glanced me." Her arm was numb now, shoulder to fingertip. "Get my communicator out of my pocket. My left hand's dead."

He pulled it out. "Lowest level, east end," he said into it. "Dunwood's armed. The lieutenant's been hit."

"Minimal damage," she snapped, irritated. "I'm not down. Repeat, I am not down. Security panel's over there." She jerked her head. "Bypass the damn voice command and get the lights on. Dunwood!" she shouted, duck-walking to the doorway with her left arm hanging useless and her weapon in her right hand. "It's over. The house is surrounded. You've got nowhere to go. Throw out your weapon, and come out with your hands up."

"It's not over until Isay it's over! I'm not finished." He fired again. "Do you think I'm losing to a woman!"

The lights went on, and gave her a good look at the blackened hole in the floor only inches from her feet. "Seduce and conquer. We accessed your game, Lucias. Not too smart of you to write it all down so nice and tidy for us. We know you did Kevin. That was slick, but you don't know as much about law as you do about chemistry. His confession stands. And you were stupid enough to leave traces of putty and base in your bathroom. Really losing points fast."

Glass crashed inside the room, and his voice raged as temper lashed out. "It's my game, you bitch. My rules."

She held up her gun hand, signaling the men back as she heard them rushing down the stairs.

"New game, new rules, and you'll never beat me, Lucias. I'm better than you are. Throw out the weapon and come out or I'm going to hurt you."

"You won't win." He was weeping now, a spoiled boy choked by a tantrum. "Nobody beats me. I'm undefeated. I'm a Dunwood."

"Cover me." She drew in a breath, tucked and rolled into the room. The stunner blasts jolted over her head, shot along the floor by her hip as she dived for cover.

"Not smart, Lucias." She pressed her back into a wide cupboard. "Nope, not so smart. You keep missing. Aiming wild. You buy that off the street? Did they tell you it was fully charged? They lie. I bet if you check the discharge rate, you're more than half out already. I've got a full load. And I don't miss. I won the game. And my prize is locking you into a cage for the rest of your life. A woman's going to lock you away, Lucias."

She angled herself, signaled to Roarke to lay down fire to her right. On the blast, she leaped up. She swore, fired a stun shot. But was already too late.

The vial he held slid out of his hand as he shuddered and collapsed.

"Call for MTs," she shouted, and leaped over the broken glass. She kicked his weapon away, crouched. "What did you take?"

"What I gave Kevin." He smiled, coldly. "Double the dose for speed. No woman's locking me away. I end the game my way, so I win. I always win. You lose, bitch."

She watched him die, and felt nothing. "No. Everybody wins."