“Monroe’s.” He smirked and sent his sore lip throbbing. “We ran into each other’s.”
“It’s nothing to brag about.” Eve stripped off her jacket. “Crash here. The briefing’s at oh six hundred anyway. Pick a couple of bedrooms on opposite sides of the house.”
“Aw” was all Peabody said.
Laughing, Roarke patted her arm. “She doesn’t mean it.”
“Do, too,” Eve replied. “Mavis and Trina?”
“In the pool, along with Leonardo, who arrived about two hours ago. I bowed out when they decided it was time for nude relay races.”
“They’re naked?” McNab perked right up. “Wet and naked? You know, a quick swim would be good. Just a passing thought,” he murmured when Peabody curled her lip.
“Playtime’s over. Bed.” Eve pointed up the stairs. “We’ve got a major op tomorrow, and I want you both fresh. Where are the mermaids and friend bunking?”
“Oh, here and there,” Roarke said easily. “Why don’t you go up? I’ll settle our company in.”
“Good. I’ve got some things left to run before I turn in.” She started up the stairs. “And I don’t want to hear the patter of little feet sneaking around the corridors.”
“She’s so strict,” Peabody said under her breath.
“Tired and cross is what she is. Now, why don’t we take the elevator.” Roarke gestured. “I think you’ll like the accommodations I have in mind. Plenty of room for two.”
Eve went to his office first, brought up a diagram of Greenpeace Park. After highlighting the picnic site, she let the computer select the most strategic locations for her men. She’d see if she agreed—after a few hours of sleep.
She listed the men she wanted for the operation, transmitted the order, and copied Whitney.
A shower, she decided when her vision blurred. Maybe a shower would wash some of the fog out of her brain so she could put another hour in.
She was staggering into the bedroom when her pocket-link beeped. “Dallas.”
“Figured I’d tag you on the portable.” Morris yawned hugely. “Our guest this evening departed this plane of existence at seven-forty. Previously, he had an unpleasant altercation with a blunt object. This altercation would have resulted in death within an hour, perhaps a tad less. The medical term would be having one’s brains bashed in.”
“Got it.” Too tired to stand, she sat on the arm
of the sofa in the sitting area. “I hate to be the one to break this to you, Morris, but I already got the data from a media source. You’ve got a gossip in your house.”
“No! Why, I’m shocked and amazed. A city official leaking information to the media. What is the world coming to?”
“You’re a fucking jolly soul.”
“Love your work, love the world. I don’t imagine your media contact had quite everything, as I’ve just gotten the tox results.”
She shook her head clear as Roarke came into the room. “He was drugged?”
“Between the initial insults and the coup de grâce, the doctor was given a stimulant.”
“They tried to revive him?” Her thoughts jumbled, then cleared before Morris could answer. “No, that doesn’t make sense. They wanted to keep him alive a little longer.”
“Give the lady a stuffed panda. The substance used stimulates the heart, and it’s quickly absorbed. If we’d gotten him in here twenty, thirty minutes later, we wouldn’t have found a trace of it.”
“They kept him alive so they could get him to a dumping site and kill him there. He’d have died anyway, right, from the initial beating?”
“Without immediate medical attention, yes. And even then his chances were minimal. He’d certainly have drowned without that final blow.”
“So they wanted to give him that last shot. When he was unconscious, helpless. Stripped of his dignity.”
“You’ve got yourself mighty nasty customers, Dallas. I’m sending the data to our mutual friend Renfrew. His robbery theory doesn’t cut the mustard.”