“It could.” Now she needed to make certain it would. “Let’s add Reo in. And I need you.”
“I think that was evident in the gym.”
“Ha-ha. I also need your geek in case any of the data and the obtaining thereof needs to be spelled out. Shit, we should pull Feeney in, maybe McNab. Then if I leave Peabody out, she’ll sulk.”
“You make the contacts. I’ll set it up.”
She looked down at her T-shirt. “Is this a rag?”
“On what scale?”
“Come on.”
“It’s comfortable-at-home wear, and perfectly acceptable.”
“That’s right.” She pointed at him. “Set it up.”
It took more than two hours to report the details. She wished for coffee more than once, but didn’t feel comfortable drinking it while briefing her superiors. She’d made the right call asking Roarke to participate. Feeney and McNab could explain the e-work, but Roarke cut through the ins and outs of the business quicker and more succinctly than she could have hoped to.
“I’m not second-guessing you, Lieutenant,” Yung said. “I want to ask if you’ve thoroughly considered the bird in the hand. With everything you have, you could arrest Alexander tonight. It would be possible to have local authorities round up his operatives, or many of them.”
“A bust of that size and scope, Judge Yung, information will leak. I don’t want to give Frye any reason to postpone the plans he may be making. If he goes into the wind, I can’t know when we’d find him, or when he may try to finish the job as he sees it. And I’m sorry to be blunt, Your Honor, but though Alexander ordered your sister-in-law’s murder, and he needs to pay, Clinton Frye snapped her neck. Not only does he need to pay for that, and two other murders, but he needs to be stopped before he does it again.”
“All right. If we’re agreed, I do have some pull, and with the cooperation of the prosecutor’s office can lay out a legal blueprint I believe the federal authorities will agree to.”
“The prosecutor’s office will assist in any way possible,” Reo told her. “And we’ll sweeten the pot with Milo Easton.”
“We’ll start the ball.” Tibble nodded at Dallas. “This is good work, Lieutenant. Detective, all of you. It’s good work. We’ll start working on the politics.”
“When we have it sealed, we’ll let you know,” Whitney told her. “Meanwhile, proceed as you’ve planned. And yes, good work.”
When Roarke ended the conference, Eve hit the coffee. “God, I’m glad that part’s over. Talk, talk, talk.”
“Business is hell.”
“And you love the front seat in hell. Okay. I’m going to fine-tune my op. Where the hell am I going to carry a weapon in that damn dress?”
“I thought of that. Actually, it’s a little something I intended to give you for Christmas. You can have it now.”
He went into his office, came back with a box.
“What is it?”
The look he shot her was a perfect mix of amusement and exasperation. “Why do you always ask when you’ve only to take off the lid?”
She didn’t have a reasonable answer, so opened the box. “Oh, this is excellent.” She drew out the sleek holster.
“It’s worn on your thigh. Admittedly, not as easy a draw, but you’ll have a weapon on you, and no one will know.”
To test it, she stripped off her pants where she stood and strapped it on.
“Who knew I’d be giving myself a gift as well? That’s quite a look, Lieutenant.”
“My clutch piece will work. It’ll work.” She walked around the room to check the fit and feel. “Yeah, it’ll work just fine. Thank you.”
“Oh no, in this case, thank you.”
“I used you up, remember?”