Page 148 of Delusion in Death

“Welcome.”

She turned up her badge before he could continue. “Focus on me. What’s your name?”

“I—Franco. Is there a problem?”

“There is, and I need you to keep on me, listen, and do exactly what I say. Are you a steady sort of guy, Franco?”

“I—yes, I think I am.”

“Stay steady. There are cops moving into the kitchen right now. They’re going to get your staff to safety. No, keep looking at me. There’s a woman in the booth—west corner, rear.”

“Ms. Weaver, but—”

“The woman beside her. She’s dangerous, probably armed. Steady, Franco. When we’re at the booth, when I draw her attention, I want you to—quietly, very quietly—begin to move the people at the tables on her blind side out through the kitchen. One table at a time. You can tell them they’ve been chosen for some special deal, whatever it takes. Get them into the kitchen, and we’ll take them from there. Do the same with your staff, one person at a time. Quietly. Can you do that, Franco?”

“Yes. But Ms. Weaver—”

“I’ll take care of her. Now, first thing. The table directly in front of the booth, the one with the kid with sauce all over him and the older kid pretending to eat his vegetables? Move them out now. You can make a fuss there. You have something special for the family in the kitchen. Something for the kids, right? Big smiles, big surprise. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Do it now—happy face, Franco.”

His smile looked a little sick, but Eve thought it would pass. She let him reach the table. He actually clapped his hands—nice touch. Eve watched Gina’s attention flick toward him, assess, then veer away.

“We’re going in,” she said as the family—lots of kid excitement—rose from the table.

She wandered through, caught Gina’s glance to and away. The minute the kitchen door closed behind the family, she zeroed for the booth.

“Nancy! Nancy Weaver, is that you?”

She let out a laugh, took advantage of Gina’s momentary surprise and plopped down next to the man. “Who’d’ve thought I’d run into you this way. How the hell are you?”

“I—I’m fine.” Weaver’s eyes widened with recognition, but she held surprisingly steady. “Just fine.”

“You look just fine,” she said as Roarke took a chair from the vacated table, angled it beside Eve.

“I’m sorry.” Gina spoke coldly. “But this is a business meeting. You’ll have to catch up another time.”

“Oh, don’t be such a party pooper, Gina. I’ve got a weapon aimed at you under the table. Use yours on Nancy, make any wrong move, and I use it. Let’s just talk.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Franco murmur to the people at a side table out of Gina’s range of vision. To keep attention focused, Eve pulled off the scarf, the shades. “That’s better.”

“I have enough Wrath of God on me to turn this place into Armageddon.”

“Then we all try to kill each other before the SWAT team stationed outside stuns us senseless. And where do we go from there? Let’s avoid all that mess. Put your weapon on the table.”

“Not a chance. I’ll cut her open like a ripe peach first.”

A knife then, better than a blaster.

“Nancy’s not important,” Mira said in Eve’s ear. “Just a corporate shill.”

“You’d just be cutting open another corporate lackey. So what? And the minute you do, you’re down. You’re too smart to lose your leverage.”

Gina’s sharply honed face held nothing but cold determination. “I’ve got three vials of my leverage with me.”

“Show her respect,” Mira advised. “Open negotiations.”

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