Conspiracy in Death (In Death 8)

"Jesus, Roarke, was that droid your work?"

"She's in there." He didn't glance back at Feeney, but continued to search for the next bypass. "I know it. Give me room, don't get in my light."

Peabody cleared her throat as the computer warning sounded again. "If you're wrong—"

"I'm not wrong."

• • • •

She rammed her fist into his face and relished the sting of knuckles meeting flesh. Something ripped as she tackled him and sent them crashing onto the floor.

He wasn't soft, and he was desperate. She tasted her own blood, felt her bones jar, saw one quick burst of stars when her head cracked against the wheels of the gurney.

She didn't us

e the pain, she didn't need it. She used her rage. Half blind with it, she straddled him, slamming her elbow into his windpipe. He gagged, strained for air. And she twisted the syringe he'd nearly pumped into her side out of his hand.

Wheezing, eyes huge, he went still as she tipped it against his throat. "Scared, you bastard? Different on the other end, isn't it? Move the wrong way, and you're dead. What did you say? Within three minutes? I'll just sit here and watch you die, like you watched all those people die."

"Don't." It was a rusty croak. "I'm choking. Can't get air."

"I could put you out of your misery." She smiled as his eyes wheeled in his head. "But it's just too damn easy. You want to live forever, Waverly? You can live forever in a fucking cage."

She started to climb off him, sighed once. "I just have to," she muttered, and rammed one short-armed jab into his face.

She was just pulling herself to her feet when the doors swung open. "Well." She swiped the back of her hand across her swollen mouth. "The gang's all here." Cautiously, she turned the syringe upside down. "You might want to seal this, Peabody, poison precautions, it's lethal. Hey, Roarke, you're bleeding."

He stepped to her, gently wiped her lip with his thumb. "You, too."

"Good thing we're in a health center, huh? Ruined that fancy coat."

Now he grinned. "You, too."

"Told ya. Feeney, you can interview me when you clean up this mess. Somebody ought to take a look at Louise. He must have sedated her. She slept through this whole thing. And pick up Rosswell, would you? Waverly rolled over on him."

"It'll be a pleasure. Anybody else?"

"Cagney and Vanderhaven, who happen to be in the city, according to Dr. Death here. There'll be more, here and there." She glanced back where Waverly lay unconscious. "He'll give it up. He's got no balls at all." She picked up her clutch piece, stuck it in her back pocket. "We're going home."

"Good work, Dallas."

For a moment, her eyes were absolutely bleak, then she grinned, shrugged. "Yeah. What the hell." Sliding her arm around Roarke, she walked away.

"Peabody."

"Captain?"

"Get Commander Whitney out of bed."

"Sir?"

"Tell him Captain Feeney respectfully requests his administrative ass on-scene here as soon as possible."

Peabody cleared her throat. "Is it okay if I rephrase that slightly?"

"Just get him here." With that, Feeney walked over to take a look at Dallas's good work.

• • • •