“Okay, then. Let’s do it. Quick and quiet.”
They were halfway across the lobby when Hayes spotted them. Two beats later, he was running.
“Goddamn it, goddamn it. He’s got cop instincts. Circle that way,” Eve ordered, then charged the crowd. She vaulted the smooth gold rail that separated the lounge from the lobby. People shouted, spilled back. Glassware crashed as a table overturned. She caught a glimpse of Hayes as he swung through a door behind the bar.
She leaped the bar, ignoring the curses of the servers and patrons. Bottles smashed, and there was a sudden, heady scent of top-grade liquor. Her weapon was in her hand when she hit the door with her shoulder.
The bar kitchen was full of noise. A cook droid was sprawled on the floor in the narrow aisle, its head jerking from the damage done by the fall. She stumbled over it, and the blast from Hayes’s laser sang over her head.
Rather than right herself, she rolled and came up behind a stainless-steel cabinet.
“Give it up, Hayes. Where are you going to go? There are innocent people in here. Drop your weapon.”
“Nobody’s innocent.” He fired again, and the line of heat scored across the floor and finished off the droid.
“This isn’t what your father wants. He doesn’t want more dead piling up at his feet.”
“There’s no price too high for duty.” A shelf of dinnerware exploded beside her, showering her with shards.
“Screw this.” She sent a line of fire over her head, rolled to the left. She came up weapon first and cursed again as she lost the target around a corner.
Someone was screaming. Someone else was crying. Keeping low, she set off in pursuit. She turned toward the sound of another blast and saw a fire erupt in a pile of linens.
“Somebody take care of that!” she shouted and turned the next corner. Saw the exit door. “Shit!”
He’d blasted the locks, effectively sealing it. In frustration she rammed it, gave it a couple of solid kicks, and didn’t budge it an inch.
Holstering her weapon, she made her way back out the mess and smoke. Without much hope, she ran through the lobby, out the main doors to scan the streets. By the time she’d made it to the corner, Darcia was heading back.
“Lost him. Son of a bitch. He had a block and a half on me.” Darcia jammed her own weapon home. “I’d never have caught him on foot in these damn shoes. I’ve got an APB out. We’ll net the bastard.”
“Fucker smelled the collar.” Furious with herself, Eve spun in a circle. “I didn’t give him enough credit. He knocked some people around in the bar kitchen. Offed a droid, started a fire. He’s fast and smart and slick. And he’s goddamn mean on top of it.”
“We’ll net him,” Darcia repeated.
“Damn right we will.”
10
“Lieutenant.”
Eve winced, turned and watched Roarke walk toward her. “Guess you heard we had a little incident.”
“I believe I’ll just see to some damage control.” Humor cut through the anger on Darcia’s face. “Excuse me.”
“Are you hurt?” Roarke asked Eve.
“No. But you’ve got a dead droid in the bar kitchen. I didn’t kill it, in case you’re wondering. There was a little fire, too. But I didn’t start it. The ceiling damage, that’s on me. And some of the, you know, breakage and stuff.”
“I see.” He studied the elegant facade of the hotel. “I’m sure the guests and the staff found it all very exciting. The ones who don’t sue me should enjoy telling the story to their friends and relations for quite some time. Since I’ll be contacting my attorneys to alert them to a number of civil suits heading our way, perhaps you’d take a moment to fill me in on why I have a dead droid, a number of hysterical guests, screaming staff, and a little fire in the bar kitchen.”
“Sure. Why don’t we round up Peabody and Feeney, then I can just run through it once?”
“No, I think I’d like to know now. Let’s just have a bit of a walk.” He took her arm.
“I don’t have time to—”
“Make it.”