Because she wanted one, she grabbed a second slice, and continued to study the screen.
She couldn’t think of a word that toppedindulgence, but if there was one, this hit that mark.
He had a three-vehicle garage that led into an anteroom, she assumed for coats or foul weather gear. Turn right, and you had a storage area, laundry area, the security hub, and an elevator. To the left, what was labeled an office with a full bath.
Straight ahead, the living area.
Come in the front, foyer—small sitting room on the left, large closet on the right. Living area, half bath, game room.
Open stairs led to the second floor, and behind them, a lounge area, formal dining, kitchen with butler’s pantry—and, she noted, droid storage.
So he likely had at least one droid in residence.
Second floor, four bedrooms including the main suite with its own bathroom, closet/dressing area, sitting area, outdoor terrace.
Third floor, studio. Full bath, dressing area, two storage areas, a bar area. Then the rooftop with retractable glass roof and sides, elevator access.
Windows, and they were generous and many, all one-way glass. He sees out, but no one sees in, she thought. Unless he’s on the roof, lounging, painting, observing.
She tagged Feeney.
“Working here.”
“I want the elevators and interior locks shut down, too.”
“What, am I stupid all of a sudden?”
“Since no, I need both of you to take a look at the third-floor interior/exterior, east. His studio takes up the third floor, and there’s a large storage area. It looks off to me. He’s got a big storage area on the main level. There’s a basement for mechanicals and more storage down there. There’s droid storage, security hub. Smaller storage area on the west side of the third floor. So why would he need a second storage room this big in his studio? And the walls aren’t right on it. They’re too thick compared to all the rest.”
“You’re thinking panic room, and they didn’t permit for it.”
“Another security layer,” she said, “and keep it off the books so if anyone tries to hurt the baby boy, he has the safe room.
“I don’t want him getting in there, Feeney. We’d get him out, sure, but why spend the time? Give him time to contact his family or lawyers before we have him in custody. Or worse, drag the target in there and use him for a hostage.”
Feeney looked away from the screen. Eve spent the next couple of minutes listening to the foreign language of the e-geek.
“We’ll need a few minutes to look into it. We’ll block the locks if it’s there, but we need time to figure it.”
“Figure fast.”
She stuck her ’link in her pocket.
“All right, you’ve had your pizza bonus. Now take a seat, cut the chatter. Here’s how ten cops and one civilian consultant are going totake down one rich mama’s boy murdering son of a bitch and keep his target—should he have one—safe.
“McNab, exterior again. Team one, Peabody, Roarke, myself, front entrance. Team two, Carmichael, Santiago, garage entrance. East side entrance, team three, Jenkinson, Reineke, McNab. Team four, Baxter, Trueheart, Feeney, rear entrance. No one moves into position until security is down and we have eyes and ears.
“The building has three-sixty cams,” she continued. “It also, as you see, has a serious crapload of large windows. They’re all one-way glass. We’re not giving him any opportunity to spot cops, so we stay out of range until EDD clears it and I give the green.”
Since she still had it, she drank more Pepsi.
“Interior, McNab. When we move, we move quick and quiet. He has at least one house droid. Storage area, as you see.” She used her highlighter. “Feeney will shut it down. Alternately McNab or Roarke shuts it down if it’s not in storage.
“Once team two is in the garage, EDD will disable the garage door. Team four clears the rear of the building. Team one moves directly via the stairs to the third floor. Team two clears the rest of the first level, team three second level. Elevators will be shut down before we enter. Rooftop, team two clears. All teams will clear their way to the third floor, or wherever the suspect is located.”
“While he’s unlikely to have a weapon,” Mira put in, “it’s not impossible, and he should be considered both desperate and dangerous.”
“Everything’s a weapon,” Eve said. “As Dr. Mira said previously, he’s unlikely to just throw up his hands and say: ‘Hey, you got me.’ There will almost certainly be a civilian present, one he may attempt to use as a shield.
