Page 151 of Bonded in Death

“But—is this the bus to Boston?”

“East Washington, pal.”

“Jeez, wrong bus. Sorry!”

Potter scrambled off, hurried away. Then made a turn, strolled easily back to his car. He could track the bus on the in-dash, make certain it left on time.

He’d set the message to send at twenty-three-fifteen.

By the time they managed to trace the source—and he hadn’t made that easy—the bus would be well on its way.

And the idiot cop would chase it down while he sat in his lovely house, having a brandy.

He hoped she didn’t have an accident on the chase. He really wanted the pleasure of killing her.

Eve felt herself starting to flag, and pushed through the fatigue. She’d gone down the damn rabbit hole again—no choice—only to hit dead ends on the first two names Roarke gave her.

She had to admit, Potter did have a knack for creating very solid IDs and backgrounds. When you picked at the threads, they fell apart.

But it took a lot of picking first.

She sat back, gave herself a minute to let her brain coast.

“You need sleep.”

She didn’t jolt—too tired for it.

“I’ve got another hour in me. Did you get anything else?”

“A bit, after some hard pulling. Still not a direct link to a New York location.”

“Maybe check in on the others?”

“I’ll do that. But we’re calling it at midnight. That gives you about forty-five.”

Since she’d expected him to push for now, she took the forty-five. “You can tell them to call it then, too. We’ve got all this, and the other angles to work tomorrow. We’re closer. A lot closer.”

As she spoke, her ’link signaled. “Relayed from my office. It’s on twenty-four/seven until… It’s him. Display saysTHE TWELVE. I need you to—”

He’d already pulled out his PPC. “Triangulate. Trace. Ten seconds to set it up. And done.”

With his other hand, he took out his ’link, signaled Summerset. “They should hear this.”

She answered. “Dallas.”

Eve Dallas.The computer-generated voice jumped a bit.Listen carefully. This message is for you. It is for Mole, Panther, Chameleon, Owl, Magpie, Cobra, Fox. All who remain of The Twelve, all of whom are responsible for the imprisonment and death of Shark.

The time has come to pay. The time has come to choose. Will you hide behind the false mask of hero, or show yourselves to be the cowards you are?

The video unblocked, and she saw the boy.

“Jesus Christ, he’s got a kid. On-screen.”

She heard the others come in, heard the exclamations.

“Quiet!” she ordered.

“Tell them your name.” Not comp-generated now, but the hollow sound of computer-disguised.

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