Apprentice in Death

  “Oh, I’ll do my job. Peabody, we’re out. We’re hunting.” She wrenched the door open. “Better make that deal fast, because if I find her before the ink dries, she’s mine. Dallas and Peabody, exiting the goddamn fucking Interview.”

  She slammed the door behind her, rolled her shoulders, then bulleted to Observation.

  “Quite a performance,” Roarke said. “I’m glad I got here just before curtain.”

  Eve just muttered, “Come on, come on,” and stared through the glass.

  “Explain ‘tried as a minor,’” Mackie said.

  “You know very well that due to the severity of the crimes she’s accused of, Willow Mackie could and would be tried as an adult.” All business now, Reo sat in the chair Eve had vacated. “She could and would be tried, convicted, and sentenced to life in prison, again multiple sentences. She would be transported to an off-planet penal colony, where she would spend, given current life expectancies, the next century.”

  “Maybe I forced her to do it.”

  “It won’t fly, Mackie,” Reo said calmly. “You couldn’t force her to complete the expert strikes with such accuracy. You weren’t there last night when eighteen people were murdered.”

  “I pressured her, influenced her. Brainwashed her.”

  “You can try that, of course, but I can promise I’d rip that to pieces in court. I’d tear that to pieces,” she continued, “and have the evidence of her plans to kill others to help me do just that. She was not under duress. She was co-parented and has never indicated duress to her mother, to her teachers, to anyone. And, in fact, as Lieutenant Dallas learned through her investigation, she has her own list of targets.”

  Reo paused to let it sink in.

  “Despite all this,” she continued, “Willow Mackie is fifteen, and we will agree to these terms in order to save the lives of innocent people. It’s a one-time offer, and the clock’s ticking on it. As hotheaded as the lieutenant may be, she is absolutely correct. Willow Mackie will kill again. I suspect she’ll do so very soon if not apprehended. If you help us prevent that, if she harms no one else and is apprehended peacefully, she will be tried as a minor and be eligible for release on her eighteenth birthday. She will, understand this, be evaluated physically and mentally. And she will have to agree to residence in a halfway house and counseling, with further evaluations, from her eighteenth birthday for a period of one year. Those are the terms. Do you wish to have a representative read the terms and discuss them with you?”

  “I don’t need anyone. Let me see it. Let me read it.”

  “He’s going to sign it,” Eve said, watching.

  “You broke his confidence. And using the little boy,” Mira added. “That shook his trust in her. He’s afraid for her, but not only afraid she’ll be caught and stopped, even hurt. He’s afraid of what she’ll do without him to hold her back.”

  “He knew what she was, what she had in her. He can pretend he didn’t, but he did. And he used it when it served his sick purpose. Maybe she’d have killed without him at some point, but he gave her the skills, the weapons, and the reasons. They’ll both have a long, long time to think about who led who.”

  “If he signs,” Peabody said, “she’ll be out in under three years.”

  “Let him sign. Then we’ll see.”

  “It’s a crap deal,” Peabody said. “I know you were playing to him with Reo in there, but it’s still a crap deal.”

  “If it helps us find her before she takes out another twenty-five civilians, not so crappy. And she’ll go for more next time. She’s keeping score. She’ll be watching screen, too, see what we’re saying about her, reading between the lines. Change her appearance a little bit. Go more for the boy look maybe. Or get herself a wig—go all girl. She’s planned it. Her father’s daughter.”

  “I want another guarantee,” Mackie said to Reo. “I want a guarantee she’ll be brought in alive and unharmed.”

  “Mr. Mackie, I’m an APA, not a police officer. I can’t guarantee what may happen during the attempt to apprehend her. If she resists, if she fires on officers or civilians—”

  “They bring her in, alive, or no deal.”

  “I can amend the deal this way. I can promise that every attempt will be made to bring your daughter in alive. That no officer will use excessive force or give a termination order. If I told you I could do more, you’d know I was lying to you. I’m giving you the best chance for her.”

  “Add that in. Add that in and I’ll sign it.”

  “Let me clear it. Reo, APA, Cher, exiting Interview.”

  She stepped out, took a breath, whipped out her ’link. And as she spoke to her superior, held up a hand for Eve to wait.

  “That’s right. Yes, sir. I have the primary right here, and she understands the additional terms. Done.” She clicked off, nodded at Dallas. “Done. They’ll add it in, send the amended agreement. Can you enforce it?”

  “I’ll make it clear. I want her alive, Reo. I want her in the same box as he is. I want to look in her eyes and tell her she’s finished.”

  “And when she’s eighteen?”

  Eve merely smiled, flat and cold. “Go pick up your paperwork, then we’ll see what he has to say.”

  Eve turned away to answer her own ’link. “Dallas.”

  “Heating up, boss,” Baxter told her. “We caught a whiff of her heading east on Fifty-Second this morning. We’re heading back to her old neighborhood.”

  “Ask around that ice cream place. Divine. She’s got a weakness.”

  “On it. Can always use a scoop of Chocolate Sin in a sugar cone. How’s it going there?”

  “Closing it up. I’ll be in touch.”

  She waited for Reo.

  “I’ve got your chickenshit right here,” Reo said.

  “Then let’s make it work. We think she’s got a hole back in the place her father had them before the first strike. Let’s see if he can get us closer before she kills somebody else.”

  Eve stepped back in, restarted the record. Mackie’s skin had gone transluscent under a sheen of sweat. He needed a fix, Eve thought, was hanging on by a thread.

  “You can get her a free ride.” Eve poured disgust over her tone. “Save her life, and maybe—though you don’t give a cold shit—save innocent lives.”

  “Three years inside isn’t a free ride,” Reo said briskly and, sitting, offered the amended agreement to Mackie.

  “Tell that to the twenty-five dead, and the ones left behind to mourn them.” Eve slapped her palms on the table, leaned into Mackie’s sweating face. “You think my hands are tied? Only for now. When she gets out, I’ll be on her. I’ll know when she sleeps, when she eats, when she farts. And I’ll be right there when she makes a mistake. Remember that. Count on it.”

  “The priority here is to find Willow Mackie before she harms anyone else. It should be yours, Lieutenant.” Reo offered Mackie a pen.

  “You sign first,” Mackie said.

  With a nod, Reo signed in her pretty, perfect penmanship.

  Mackie snatched the pen, managed a shaky, jittery scrawl.

  Reo put the agreement and the pen in her briefcase, closed it. “Mr. Mackie, where is your daughter?”

  “She should be on her way to Alaska. We worked out three routes. She was supposed to take a bus to Columbus, then choose one of three routes west.”

  “But she isn’t on her way to Alaska, is she?” Reo kept her voice reasonable. “Where is she? This agreement is null and void unless you offer information that leads to her arrest.”

  “She’s strong willed, determined. The girl’s a winner.”

  Eve’s sound of derision had Mackie’s blurry eyes cutting up to her face. “You don’t know her.”

  “If you do,” Eve shot back, “where is she?”

  “She wants to finish what we started. She’s no quitter.??
?

  “She wants more than that. You know she wants more than that or you’d never have signed that agreement.”

  “The asshole her mother married’s always on her case.”

  “So, naturally, he has to die. If you want to save her life, the life of that little boy, tell me where the fuck she is and stop making excuses for her.”

  “If we ever got separated, or she needed to regroup, couldn’t get out of the city right off, she was to go back to the apartment—to the area we’d scoped out. Where she knows the lay of the land, where she’s a familar face so nobody much notices.”

  “You want us to believe she went back to the place we’ve already nailed down?”

  “It’s got a basement, a storage room, an old laundry room. Machines are busted down there so nobody uses it. We laid in some supplies.”

  “You think we didn’t go through that building, pull in those supplies, and seal it up?” Eve dropped down into a chair. “You’re wasting my time.”

  “If she couldn’t get into the building or if she felt it was being surveilled, there’s a flop on Lex, between Thirty-Ninth and Fortieth. If she needed time to regroup, or wait for me, or let things cool, she’d go there, lay low. Wait it out.”

  “What’s she carrying?” When he hesitated, Eve leaned forward again. “You want her taken alive? What’s she carrying?”

  “She’s got a Tactical-XT, military, with long-range scope. Night-vision option. Two hand blasters, a police-issue stunner, pump laser, six flash grenades.”

  “Sharps?”

  “Combat knife, flip sticker, telescope baton with bayonette.”

  “Body armor?”

  “Full body. Plus helmet, of course.”

  “If you’ve left out so much as a penknife and she uses it on one of my people, that agreement isn’t worth jack.”

  “She’s got a multitool. It’s got sharps. Tell her I said to stand down. Tell her that her father said to stand down and live. The basement of the apartment or the flop on Lex. Those are the planned retreats.”

  “Then you’d better hope we find her. Interview end.”

  —

  She turned him over to uniforms, with instructions to put him on suicide watch. She let Reo deal with the legalities. Lowenbaum had already moved out of Observation, barking orders into his comm.

  “You want to ride with us?” he asked her.

  “No, I’ve got my own to set up. I’ve got two detectives in that area already. If she’s there, I don’t want her making them and popping off strikes. Get your op set up—odds are on the flop. She could get into the basement, but it’s a wrong move when she knows we’ve been in that location. She wouldn’t make that wrong a move.”

  “Agreed, but we’ll sweep for heat source—if I can pull your EDD team with us.”

  “Take them.” She pulled out her own comm as she strode toward her bullpen. “Baxter,” she began, then filled him in.

  “Reineke, Jenkinson, suit up. Uniform Carmichael, pick six and do the same. Santiago, Detective Carmichael, you’re second unit, full suits. Suspect is Willow Mackie, age fifteen. She is armed and dangerous. Weaponry includes military-grade Tactical-XT with scope and night vision, two blasters, stunner, pump laser, flash grenades, various sharps. Do not, repeat, do not let her age deter you from stunning the living shit out of her. We want her alive. SWAT is moving in to surround and secure. Peabody, get a fricking map of the sector on this half-assed screen.”

  Eve worked it out as she went. “She won’t go easy, and if she spots us or Lowenbaum’s team, she will attempt to pick us off. She’s not in the fricking basement,” Eve muttered. “It’s bad planning. She’d want higher ground, an eyeline. We’ll clear it, but that’s not where she is. The flop . . .”

  “Would you like the building’s details?” Roarke said from behind her.

  “Helpful.”

  He stepped over to Peabody, interfaced his PPC with the comp. “Post-Urban construction,” he told Eve. “Currently an SRO primarily used by low-level LCs, transients, addicts, and petty criminals. Eight stories, twelve rooms per story. A small lobby with droid service. Cash only. Rooms by the half hour, hour, night, and week. No soundproofing, no privacy screening.”

  “Got it. Heat sourcing will give us occupied rooms—and anyone who’s alone. She won’t have company. Ears may help.”

  She paced back and forth in front of the image. “We’ll hit the droid, get verification. If she’s in there, we’ll get people out—if possible. Single room, single window, single door.”

  “She may have the door booby-trapped, LT,” Reineke said.

  “Yeah. I would. I don’t like it.” She paced again. “It’s not a basement, but where the hell’s her out? Fire escape? She’d know we’d have the exterior covered.”

  “She may believe she can fight her way out,” Mira put in. “She’s fifteen. Indestructible, and the star of her own personal drama.”

  “Maybe.”

  But it niggled at her, niggled as she refined the op, as she prepared to move out.

  “I’m with you,” Roarke told her.

  “Okay.” Distracted, she frowned at him. “Why?”

  “Is that a personal or professional question?”

  “You’d be more use with EDD.”

  “Not necessarily. Particularly as you don’t think she’s where they’re going.”

  “I don’t see why he’d lie. Why he’d go through the whole agreement deal just to lie. He wants her to live, and it was the right angle, pushing the brother, her plans to do the kid, the others. I could see him take it in, see he knew she’d go there. But he wants her to live, and he wants her to get out, to know she’ll only spend a few years inside.”

  “She’s his child.”

  “He wasn’t lying, but . . .”

  “Take a minute.”

  Shaking her head, she pulled a combat knife from her drawer, slid it from the sheath, back in. “Clock’s ticking,” she said as she hooked it to her belt.

  “And Lowenbaum is even now putting men in position to pin her down. Take a moment, and let whatever’s brewing in that head of yours out.”

  “It’s more gut.”

  But she stopped, sat, put her boots on her desk, stared at the board.

  When Peabody started in, Roarke held up a hand to silence her.

  Head, gut, instinct, sixth sense, or cop logic—whatever it was, he knew it was working inside her.

  They’d wait.

  18

  She should be on her way to Alaska—but she wasn’t.

  She was supposed to take a bus to Columbus—but she didn’t.

  They had a mission—but she had another of her own. Hidden from her father, her teacher, her mentor.

  He wants her to live. She wants to kill.

  He tells her to run, stay safe, wait it out.

  Running? Safety? For losers. Waiting takes too long.

  She wants to kill.

  “She’s not going to listen to him,” Eve murmured. “It’s not because she’s fifteen. Maybe that plays a part, but that’s not the crux. It’s just not. She knows she’s better than he is. He’s lost his physical edge, and hers is still sharp. He’s weak, isn’t he?”

  She shoved up then, paced, her eyes on the board.

  “Who accomplished that? She did. Not him. Stay safe? She doesn’t want safe, she wants action. She wants the excitement, the points, the targets.

  “Her targets.”

  “Where would she go?” Roarke asked her.

  “Not to some mangy flop with whores and junkies. Not to some hole to curl up and wait until whenever. It’s all now. It’s all today. It’s about her. She’s the center. She wants the center. If she wanted safe, she’d be gone. She’s not gone because it’s now, and it’s about what she wants. Her mission now. She’d go home.”
>
  “If she’s at the apartment—” Peabody began.

  “That’s not home. That’s HQ, her father’s HQ, and that mission is done, at least for now. The townhouse. Her mother’s house.” She turned around, and Roarke saw it in her eyes. Instinct became knowledge.

  “It’s comfortable, it’s hers. Clothes, food, entertainment. Again an area she knows—and right now, an empty house. And better, more important, fucking vital? They’ll come back. A few days, a week, but they’ll come back, the three people who top her list. That’s something she’ll wait for.”

  “We sealed it.”

  “She’ll get in. Her father would’ve taught her how to get around and through a seal. She can have the place to herself—privacy screens down. She can watch the screen, judge when the media play eases off. Tuck up somewhere and wait. They come in, they feel safe, or safer. She just has to hole up, just wait until the house is locked up tight, until it’s all quiet. Take the stepfather first, then the mother, then the kid. Then take what you want, whatever you want, and walk away. Find somewhere else to kill.”

  “Should I pull the op?” Peabody asked.

  “No.” As she weighed percentages against instinct, Eve dragged her fingers through her hair, pulled at it. “I could be wrong. I’m not, but I could be. Let it play.”

  “The three of us then.”

  Eve nodded at Roarke. “If you’re up for it.”

  “Personally or professionally?”

  “Funny. Peabody, bring that location on screen.” She pulled out her comm. “Reineke, I’m peeling off.”

  It was a risk, Eve thought after she’d checked out her weapons, after they’d gone down to the garage. She loaded a laser rifle, a scope, the equipment Roarke would use in her deceptively ordinary DLE. The earbud kept her in constant communication with the others teams.

  If the percentages proved true, she could be with the main team in minutes. If her instincts were on target, she could pull in the main team fast.

  EDD reported no heat source in the basement, none in the apartment. They continued to identify sources in the flop.