She was halfway to the apartment door when she shot a glance over her shoulder. “Trueheart, is there a reason you’re not one step behind me?”
“Sir?”
“When the officer in command says to move, you get your bony butt in gear and move.”
He blinked rapidly, then appeared to process the information that she wanted him on the team. A goofy smile spread over his face as he rushed to the door. “Yes, sir.”
“Transit cops are blocking exits, spreading to all gates. Backup’s on the way.” Eve relayed the information as they headed down to street level. “Suspect’s bought a one-way express to Toronto.”
“It’s cold up there.” Peabody flipped up the collar of her coat as they ran down the block to Eve’s vehicle. “If I were fleeing the country, I’d head south. I’ve never been to the Caribbean.”
“You can point that out to him when he’s in lockup. Strap in,” she suggested when they dived inside. She shot down the parking ramp like a rocket, hit the sirens, and did a screaming two-wheel around the corner.
Flopping in the backseat, stomach at knee level, Trueheart was in heaven.
He was in pursuit, not of a scrounging street thief, not of a whiny traffic violation, but of a murder suspect. He gripped the chicken stick to keep his balance as Eve wove fast and nervelessly through traffic. He wanted to imprint every detail on his mind. The wild speed, the flash of lights, the sudden jolt and jerk as his lieutenant—God, wasn’t she amazing?—shot the vehicle into a fast vertical lift to bypass a jam on Lexington.
He listened to Peabody’s clear, practical voice as she coordinated with the backup on her communicator. To Eve’s low, careless cursing as she was forced to swerve sharply to avoid a pair of “fucking brain-dead morons” on a scooter.
She squealed to a halt on the west side of the transpo center. “Peabody, Trueheart, with me. Let’s see what the transit boys have for us.”
There were two transit cops sealing the exit. Both came to attention when Eve held up her badge. “Status?”
“Your suspect’s inside, Lieutenant. Level Two, Area C. There are a number of passengers in that area. The e
xpress for Toronto was sold out. There are several shops, eateries, and rest room facilities. Men are posted at all lifts, glides, and walkways leading in or out of the area. He’s in there.”
“Stand by.”
She walked into the great sea of noise and movement.
“Lieutenant, Feeney and McNab approaching south side of the building.”
“Give them the target location. We don’t have data on weapons, but we go in assuming he’s armed.” She crossed the wide expanse of floor while people rushing home or away streamed past her. “Alert the commanding officer we’re heading down.”
“Captain Stuart, sir. Channel B on your communicator. She’s standing by.”
“Captain Stuart, Lieutenant Dallas.”
“Lieutenant, we have our net in place. Traffic Control Center will continue to announce delays for the twelve-oh-five to Toronto.”
“Where’s my suspect?”
Stuart’s face stayed blank and hard, but her voice tightened. “We’ve lost direct visual of the subject. He has not, I repeat, has not exited the patrolled area. Our security cameras are executing a full sweep. We’ll pick him up.”
“Contact me, this channel, when you spot him,” Eve said briefly. “Inform your men that NYPSD is now on-scene and taking charge. Their full cooperation and assistance is appreciated.”
“This is my turf, Lieutenant. My command.”
“Target is suspected of two homicides on my turf, Captain. That’s an override, and we both know it. Let’s get the job done. We can have a pissing contest later.” Eve waited a beat. “We’re approaching Level Two. Please inform your men. Weapons are to be programmed to lowest setting and to be deployed only in extreme circumstances and for the protection of bystanders. I want a clean snatch.”
“I’m fully aware how to perform an operation of this nature. I was informed the target may be armed.”
“We can’t confirm. Use caution and minimal force. Minimal force, Captain; that’s priority. The area is packed with civilians. I’ll maintain this channel for further communications.”
Eve tucked the communicator back in her pocket. “Hear that, Peabody?”
“Yes, sir. She wants the collar. ‘This evening, the New York City Transit Authority, led by Captain Stuart, captured the primary suspect in Richard Draco’s murder, in flight. Pictures at eleven.’”