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“Oh my God.”
“It was before McNab. Well, before McNab and I were together. He’s so fatally cute—Yancy, I mean. McNab, too, but—”
“Shut up now.”
“It was a really good sex dream,” Peabody said under her breath. “Speaking of,” she added as Roarke walked in the room.
“One more word, and I’ll get that hammer out of evidence and beat your tongue flat with it. Did you get the hacker?” she asked Roarke.
“Ian’s nearly there. He asked if you’d excuse him from the briefing until he’s finished.”
“Yeah. He should stay on it. Why aren’t you?”
“Because he’s nearly there,” Roarke repeated. “And I want to know what you’re planning as I have a vested interest.” He smiled over at Peabody. “Or two,” he said and made her flush with pleasure.
“Aw.”
“Peabody.”
“Aw’s not a word. It’s a sound.”
“Stop making sounds. I’ve got his face. Yancy’s confident on it. I’ll be running facial recognition, and I’m going to key in military and sports. If I’m right on either, it may cut back on the time, may bring us a quicker hit.”
Roarke took the sketch to study it. “You think if he does try to infiltrate, it’ll be as security.”
“Look at that face.”
“Yes, security’s the most logical.” He turned to the screens, scanned both. “It’s a large building, numerous points of entry and egress on both levels, and more in the basement maintenance and storage areas. The security system is good, but it’s not excellent. There’s relatively little to steal, and there are standard alarms on the doors set during vids to discourage any attempt to break in and watch for free.”
“How do you know?”
“I did a bit of research on it after you told me your plan.”
“I don’t think he’ll break in. He’ll blend in. The hacker could create a pass for him, a badge, whatever he needs. Or he could target someone legitimately on security, take him out, replace him. The security is to keep the public from getting too familiar with the celebrities, to keep them out of the theater, to be present. It’s soft duty. He could bribe somebody, but he’d probably just kill. He’s got a taste for it.”
“He’ll need to get close to you.”
“That’s right. He’ll need to get close to kill me, and he’ll need to get close so I can stop him from killing me and catch him. Remember that.”
Meeting her eyes, Roarke skimmed a hand over her hair. “It’s not something I’d forget.”
She stepped back as cops began to shuffle into the room.
Feeney headed to her. “The boy’s nearly got the location. I pulled Callendar off another duty so she can give him a hand.”
“If he hits, maybe I’ll be wasting everybody’s time for the next half hour.”
Feeney noticed the screen, pulled at his bottom lip as he studied it, as he understood where it led. “Well, crap. The wife’s really looking forward to this shindig.”
“Maybe we’ll give her a kind of double feature. Better, we can pull this off quick and quiet. Nobody notices a thing.”
“Somebody always notices,” Feeney said, but walked off to sit, and hear her out.
She started to input the sketch disc, but Roarke took it from her. “I’ll take care of it.”
She left him to it, began counting heads. She’d need more, but she knew these cops, knew they’d run the op as she needed it run.
“Let’s settle down,” she called out. “Dickenson, Marta; Parzarri, Chaz; Ingersol, Jake. We believe this man...” She paused until Roarke flashed the sketch on screen. “... killed all three, with rapidly escalating violence. Yesterday, he attempted to kill two police officers.”
