Page 129 of Fury In Death

“No, thanks. You did fine.”

Her eyes lit up with relief as the doors slid shut.

“She’s really new,” Peabody said.

“Brand and spanking. I figure the guards are outside because he doesn’t want them in there, but if they are? Record on.” Eve took out her badge, drew her weapon.

Peabody did the same.

“This is a really nice building, and you know what else?”

“If you’re about to say: ‘If Nadine’s in the building, someone on staff who knows she’s good at greasing palms would get word to her that we’re here,’ yeah, I know what else.”

“Add we came in hot.”

“Yeah, add that. Get ready.”

Eve shook her shoulders to loosen them, then as the doors opened, went in hot.

She swept left, right.

“Check the security screen by the door.”

Peabody stepped back. “Two men flanking, and looking bored.”

Eve nodded. “Jacob Wyst, this is the police. We have a warrant for your arrest. Come out with your hands up.”

She heard nothing but silence.

“We clear down here first, and watch your six. If he doesn’t have a weapon, he’s stupid.”

She’d barely taken two steps more when she smelled death. She didn’t bother to curse when she saw the open doors, one hanging crooked, to where death lay.

“Not fast enough, not hot enough.”

“Jesus! How the hell did he get in here?”

“We clear first. He could still be here.”

The penthouse sprawled, three bedrooms, three and a half baths, a dining area, kitchen, a butler’s pantry, where a deactivated droid, built young, attractive, female, like the desk clerk, stood.

They cleared it all, including closets, the terrace.

Then Eve went to the front doors, opened them.

The men instinctively came to attention, then seeing her instead of Wyst, reached for weapons.

She held up her badge. “Police, draw those and you’re down, then in a cage. Your client’s lying dead in a pool of blood in his office.”

“Bullshit.” The one on the right snarled it. “We haven’t moved from this spot for ninety minutes. There’s a Do Not Disturb on the suite, and that blocks the elevator.”

The one on the left looked as though he debated whether he could draw before she stunned him. “So how the hell did you get in there?”

“Warrant. Wyst is dead. Both of you, surrender your weapons. Surrender your weapons,” she repeated when they hesitated. “If you’re duly licensed to carry, they’ll be returned to you.”

They didn’t like it, but handed over two low-charge licensed security stunners.

“If you’re carrying more weapons, and don’t turn them over, you’ll lose the license to carry these, and therefore your occupation.”