Golden in Death (In Death 50)

“Check the building. Peabody, pass out the masks. Whatever the status, no one enters without a mask. Feeney, how about you and Roarke deal with any alarms and/or locks. Reineke, you and Jenkinson make the circuit. Let’s mark all exits, then we’ll cover them.”

“What about me?”

“You wait,” she told Harvo.

“Bogus. Roarke’s not a cop, either, and I’m an expert consultant, too. Plus, I work with the cops totally.”

“Are you authorized to carry a weapon?”

“No, but—”

“Then you wait.”

Reineke jogged back. “Back and front, first level, south side and back, fire escapes on the second level.”

“No heat sources,” Callendar called out.

“If there aren’t bad guys—”

“You still wait,” Eve interrupted Harvo’s next pitch.

“We’ll still take it front and back. Reineke, Jenkinson, Callendar, McNab on the rear. Peabody, we’ll take the front with Roarke and Feeney. We’ve got a damn army taking an empty building,” she muttered.

She marched up to Roarke. “It’s empty.”

“It’s bypassed anyway, alarms and locks.”

“Then this’ll be easy.” Empty or not, she drew her weapon, went through the door low.

The lights on full illuminated the gaudy tackiness of a living area with enormous gel sofas—a trio—done in dizzying patterns of red and black. Giant entertainment screens dominated two opposing walls. All the tables shined in mirrored gold, which was picked up by a bar fronted by a couple of stools designed to resemble the female form wearing only high heels.

She pointed Feeney and Roarke in one direction, Peabody in the other, and moved straight ahead.

On her sweep she noted a game system, posters—more naked women—bottles of high-end booze, a jar of Zoner, a bowl holding a variety of pills.

She added her call of “Clear” to the others as Roarke, Feeney, and Peabody moved back from the sides, the other team from the rear.

“Kitchen, storage for cleaning droids and supplies,” Peabody said.

“Bedroom and bath,” Roarke added, “designed to fulfill a teenage boy’s wet dream. Complete with currently deactivated sex droid.”

“Another john, and a game room,” Feeney added. “Refreshment area.”

“Let’s clear upstairs. They outfitted this for Loco. Neither rich guy’s taste runs to sex-starved tacky. Lab’s going to be upstairs.”

She started up the metal stairs, had gotten no more than a quarter of the way when she smelled it.

“Fuck!” She threw up a hand to stop the rest of her team, then jogged until she could see the second floor. “We’ve got a body. Back out. Everybody, back out, masks or not. Peabody, call in the hazmat unit.”

She took a sweep not only for the visual but so her lapel recorder could capture the scene. Then she followed her team back outside.

She yanked off her mask. “Jenkinson, go around and seal the back entrance. Reineke, let’s get some uniforms for backup, to canvass. Callendar, tag Morris, see if he can come on scene.”

She dragg

ed a hand through her hair. “Son of a bitch.”

“Do you know the DB?” Feeney asked.