Revenant in Death

Chapter 15

by Technomad

Eve Dallas

Eve was getting ready for her next talk at the Police Academy. She was going over her notes, making sure that the outline of the speech she was to give was complete, when Summerset came in. She was slightly startled to see that he was smiling.

"Someone to see you, ma'am," Summerset said. Eve looked up, and her heart leaped with joy to see that Sean was walking in. She hadn't expected him to be back so soon.

"SEAN!" She stood up out of her wheelchair, embracing her son. When had he got to be so tall and muscular? With one part of her mind, she thought that he'd be catnip to the women he knew. If he had been around when we were younger, Peabody would have been drooling!

Sean hugged her back. "Good to be home, Mom! I got done with my project early, and caught a shuttle back planetside. I just got in a few hours ago." He grinned at her as he let her go and she sat back down. "I'm still a little unsteady on my feet! Man, I'll be glad when Dad invents artificial gravity!"

"You and me both!" Eve thought about how much easier her life would be, if gravity were controllable. She could walk around a lot more, at least in her own house, and not be so dependent on that wheelchair. While the chair was powered, and easily controlled, it did present some inconveniences.

Stairs were a problem, particularly in older buildings where elevators were not available and the buildings had been built before handicap access was required. Being able to walk up stairs again would be so nice…

"What are you doing, Mom? Can I help?" Eve felt her heart melt. Her boy was so like his father! Roarke had always been willing to help her with her police work, and she had to admit that things had often gone much more smoothly with him around. Between owning a good chunk of New York City and other places, and his highly-placed connections, Roarke had been able to facilitate her investigations many times.

Then she flashed on the image of herself, restored to good health, kicking down the door of some deranged murderer…with Sean beside her, taking high while she took low. At that thought, she shuddered. She'd stay with her wheelchair forever rather than see Sean endanger himself! She would do anything rather than see Sean hurt, or worse, killed!

"Right now I'm going over the lecture I'm to give at the Police Academy this afternoon. Care to sit over there and let your old mother practice her oratorical magic on you?" With a grin, Sean flopped down in a nearby sofa, as Eve cleared her throat and launched into the introduction to her speech.

When she was done, Sean applauded, then he asked: "Can I see the notes you're working from, Mom? I had a few ideas about how you could revise your talk to make it flow better." Eve knew that her son was better at that sort of thing than she was, and happily surrendered the notes. Watching him working, his head bent over the desk and his dark hair flowing down over his face, she felt a rush of love. He was so like his father in so many ways!

When Sean was done revising, he held out his revised version. "Take a look at this, Mom. I think this works better." Eve took the notes and looked them over. She had to admit that her son's version of the talk flowed more naturally, and would keep the cadets' attention more easily. Sean had inherited his father's gifts with words. She had read his school essays, and been amazed that a son of hers could write anything like that well.

"Thank you! You're such a help to your old Mom!" Eve glanced at her watch. "Oh, dear, it's about time to get ready to go to the Academy. Do you want to come along?"

"Sure do! Is Aunt Delia going to be there, too?"

"I'm not sure. She's got a new trainee she's working with. A transfer from Miami. Apparently she…the new trainee, I mean…and her brother came up to New York together. He's a blood-spatter technician, and a real genius at his work, from what I hear."

"A new trainee? Oh, yeah, Aunt Delia wrote me about her. According to Aunt Delia, this Deborah Morgan's a real hard-charger." He grinned. "I'll be interested to meet her, but with my luck, she probably looks like Abraham Lincoln with a sex-change."

Behind an impassive façade, Eve squirmed with anticipation. Her son was in for a surprise!

Willow Mackie

Willow was ensconced in a comfortable room on the fifth floor of the Davis Hotel, field-stripping and cleaning the sniper laser that she and Rayleen had obtained.

They had left it up in Rayleen's other apt for a couple of weeks, and there had been no sign of police interest. That had been a tiresome, but necessary precaution. In 2090, there were many ways an object could have a tracer put on it that couldn't be seen, but would allow the object to be located at a distance. Neither Willow nor Rayleen was willing to take chances on getting caught. This was much too important, and they had both learned hard, bitter lessons about the consequences of screwing up.

Rayleen had retrieved the laser when the two weeks were up, and had brought it out to where Willow was staying, in Rayleen's former apt. Once Willow had uninterrupted access to it, she had stripped it down, familiarizing herself with each separate component. While the laser itself was supposed to be highly regulated, particularly in a hoplophobic environment such as the tri-state area, the manuals for it were freely available on the Web. Rayleen had downloaded several of them on the untraceable computer in her other apt, bringing them over "by sneakernet," to use the old term, on a thumb drive.

With access to the operators' manuals, Willow was able to check every part of the laser for functionality. The more she had tested, the more pleased she had been. "Seagull" did sell quality goods, it seemed. The women had managed to take the laser to a quiet place Rayleen had found, where they wouldn't be disturbed, so Willow could sight it in. She had explained that while the sights were good, this was a necessary exercise to ensure that she would be utterly accurate when the time came to use the laser.

She had been very pleased with the weapon. It took little adjustment to get the sights aligned perfectly, and before long, she was as accurate with it as she'd ever been in her life. One part of her mourned the fact that her father couldn't be there, to see and appreciate how well his daughter used the skills he had imparted to her.

She had considered bumping the arms dealer off, just to tie off a loose end, but had rejected the idea. She didn't know the neighborhood, and couldn't be sure enough of the man's movements to be able to set up a proper ambush. While sniping random targets was a lot of fun, taking down a particular person was much harder. Like Rayleen, she had read The Day of the Jackal, and she had noted the careful, precise preparations the Jackal had made to assassinate Charles de Gaulle.

"You know," she had remarked to Rayleen, sitting around in their cell, "the Jackal only failed because the organization he was working for screwed up several times. Colonel Rodin addressing him by his code name in the hearing of that Corporal Kowalski was screw-up number one."

"True enough," Rayleen said, sitting on her bunk and reflectively sipping on a cup of the horrid coffee they brewed in their cell. "Another bad move was not teaching Jacqueline…that girl they were using as a mole…some basic espionage tradecraft."

"What do you mean?" Willow stirred in some artificial sweetener. Sugar was available, but both women avoided it as much as they could, not wanting to put on any extra weight.

"Well, if she'd been trained better, instead of just being patted on the head and told to go for it, she would never have called her contact, Molitor, from the colonel's house. Instead, once he'd gone to sleep, she should have slipped off to the bathroom and written everything she could remember down, preferably in shorthand so as to get it down faster. Then, once the colonel was off to the office, she was alone in the house as far as we know. She could easily have left for long enough to get to a place where there were public phones. She wasn't his prisoner or his sex-slave."

"True, that. If she'd done that, Inspector Lebel would never have been able to get on her trail. He could have tapped the phones in that house till Doomsday and never heard anything that would have helped him."

"The Jackal was right about the OAS being a bunch of blunderers. Of course, he did make a few mistakes himself. Once he and the rifle were in France he should have become 'Andre Martin,' and holed up in a pension near Paris until the Big Day." Rayleen emptied her coffee cup and refilled it from the self-heating pot they were allowed to keep in the cell. "Obtaining and using those extra identities wasn't a bad idea, but he should have kept them back for emergencies."

"Aye, well. Here's to the Jackal!" Willow raised her coffee cup, and Rayleen copied her. "He, or that author, did teach us that planning and preparation prevent piss-poor performance!"

Willow pulled herself out of her memories with an effort. Sometimes, when she was just awakening, she expected to find herself back in her old cell, and it was always a surprise to find that was not the case. But it was a pleasant surprise.

She had checked into the Davis Hotel three days previously, telling the desk clerks that she intended to stay for a week. At the time she had checked in, she was in male guise, using a set of false ID that Rayleen had prepared for her. The ID would not stand up to a full-court police check, but it worked well enough to fool the hotel's computers.

In her luggage, she had a complete set of female clothes, including a wig that was very different from the one she had worn while checking in, and a padded bra to disguise her slim figure and make her look bustier. She had tried the disguise on at Rayleen's old apt, smiling at her reflection in the full-length mirror. With it on, she looked nothing like the person who had checked in. And as far as she could, she would leave nothing at all for a DNA trace. She and Rayleen had made very sure of that.

She and Rayleen had discreetly scouted the Davis Hotel, taking note of the placement of security cameras. Rayleen had hacked into the hotel's computer system from her second apt, and had put some programs in place that would help Willow make her escape when the time came to "make like an amoeba, and split," as Willow had put it. Rayleen was more of a language purist than Willow was, and had rolled her eyes at this, but affectionately.

Glancing at the clock, Willow saw that it was getting close to the time when Eve Dallas would show herself. She moved back, away from the open window, to where she had the sniper laser set up. She had rigged a firing nest well back and inside, knowing that being visible at a window would be fatal to her chances of getting away. From where she'd set up, she had a good clear view of the front of the Police Academy. She peered through the laser's sight, and she could see people walking in and out of the Academy's front door as clearly as though they were just out of reach. She nodded, and went back to the window, discreetly looking around through a pair of miniature binoculars. She was looking for a particular armored limousine.

Eve Dallas

Eve rolled up to the front of the Police Academy, alighting a ways away from the doors. The limousine Roarke had provided was wonderful, but handled a little clumsily to come any closer. It was a beautiful, sunny day, though, and she always loved the park.

Peabody came running up with a squeal of joy. "Sir! So glad to see you!" Then she saw Sean, who was just behind her. "Sean! Oh my God, you're back!" She flew at Sean, and they exchanged rib-creaking hugs. "Every time I see you, you're more huggable than before! How you've stayed single this long, I don't know!"

"I move too fast for any girl to catch me, Aunt Delia," Sean said, winking at his mother. "And after knowing you and Mom, I have high standards!"

"You flatterer!" Peabody grinned her old gamine grin. "If you'd been around when I was as young as you are now…but no need to go into that!" She turned and waved. "Here's someone I want you to meet! My trainee! Deborah, this is Sean Roarke. You've heard me mention him. Sean, this is Deborah Morgan. And her brother, Dexter."

Eve looked the Morgans over. They didn't look much like siblings. Dexter was rather average-looking, and there was something there that niggled slightly at her. If he hadn't been vouched for by Peabody, she'd have wanted to look his records up and see if there was anything interesting in his background. Deborah, on the other hand, was a real knockout, and Eve could see why she had problems with horndog cops hitting on her. Then she saw how Deborah and Sean were looking at each other.

Eve had heard about being hit with the Thunderbolt, but had never seen it happening in real time in her presence. She could see that Deborah really liked what she saw in Sean, which she could understand, and for his part, Sean was looking at Deborah like he was receiving a revelation from On High.

Could it be? Had her elusive son finally been snared by a woman? Eve was slightly startled by this, since Sean had shown great agility in eluding the snares of various designing damsels. With his looks and his father's wealth, Eve knew that her son was "Target for Today" for half the female population of New York. Even Mame Dennis and Vera Charles had commented in her hearing about how "yummy" he was, and had lamented the fact that he hadn't been around for them to chase when they were younger.

Eve knew little of Deborah Morgan other than that she was apparently an excellent cop and as dedicated to police work as she herself had been once. That, in her view, was a good first step; she approved strongly of police who were devoted to their duty. With that thought, she decided to settle back and see what happened with this.

Deborah was blushing as she held out her hand for a shake. "Captain Peabody told me about you, but she didn't give me all the details!" The way she was looking at Sean made Eve think that if they'd been alone, she'd have been all over him like a coat of paint.

"And I hadn't known Aunt Delia's new trainee was anything like you!" Sean was smiling a thousand-watt smile at Deborah, and looking at her like he could see through her clothes and quite liked what he saw. "After this is over, would you like to join me for coffee?"

"I'd be pleased to!" Deborah smiled again and dropped Sean's hand. Beside her, her brother was watching developments carefully. Eve looked at him again, and again wished she could look up his records in Miami. There was something…something just not quite right about him. Of course, he had to have a good record as a blood-splatter technician to be hired on so readily by the NYPSD, but even so she would have loved a chance to satisfy her curiosity.

The little group moved slowly along toward the front of the Police Academy, past the memorial fountain. Police and civilians circulated around them, many of the police stopping to greet Eve and Peabody, and (if male) to ogle Deborah Morgan.

Willow Mackie

Willow had acquired her target, and was tracking it. Through the scope, she could clearly see Eve Dallas. It was the first time since her incarceration that she had seen her nemesis in the flesh, and Willow was startled at how little she'd changed. Of course, she'd always been lean, with little extra flesh. Her legs were covered by a blanket as she rode along in her wheelchair, so the main difference to be seen was the grey in her hair.

Willow wondered who the other people who were with Dallas were. She recognized Dallas' sidekick, the pestilential Peabody, readily enough, but the others were all strangers. They did not signify, except that they were in the way, often obscuring her view of her target.

Willow's world shrank, down to herself, the sniper laser, and her target. She felt herself becoming one with the weapon, just as she had in the old days. This, she thought, is what I was made for! This is what I was meant to do with my life! She reveled in the thought that she was now wielding the power of God…that she, and she alone, decided who would live and who would die.

She took careful aim, and slowly, gently, squeezed the trigger. A second later, the park was rocked with a huge explosion, startling her out of her shooter's trance.

What the Hell? She peered carefully out of the window, to see that Eve Dallas and the people around her were now obscured with a thick cloud of black smoke. As the smoke cleared, she could see Eve Dallas, lying on the ground limply.

Eve Dallas

Just as they got to the entrance to the Police Academy, there was a shout. "Eve Dallas! Lieutenant Dallas! Can I have your autograph?"

Eve sighed. Ever since The Icove Agenda, she had been plagued, off and on, by her fans. Apparently she'd been tracked down by a new one. She turned her chair, so that she could face the eager young people who were approaching.

A second later, her chair exploded, throwing her into the air. The padded seat protected her from most of the force of the explosion, but she flew through the air, landing hard on the ground. The impact knocked her breath out, and she lay still, trying to collect herself and figure out just what the Hell had happened.

Willow Mackie

It looked like Eve Dallas was dead. There was no time to exult; that would come later, when she and Rayleen met up. It was time to get out of there, before they figured out that the shot had come from the Davis Hotel!

Willow pulled out a thermite bomb, putting it right beside where the laser lay. It cost her a pang to destroy the weapon, but she knew that she couldn't get away with it, even broken down in its case. She slipped into her disguise, and activated a device that Rayleen had worked out for her during an earlier stay at the Davis.

When she touched the button on top of the device, a program was activated that mixed up the video pickups on the hotel's halls. In particular, the fifth floor would look like it was on the eighth, and the eighth floor on the fifth. That would slow down anybody who went over those records later on, and tried to identify her. Whoever was in the room three floors above would be in for a nasty interrogation, she thought gleefully, while she walked calmly out.

Just as she left, she activated the timer on the thermite bomb. Ten minutes after she did so, it would explode, destroying the laser and obliterating the entire interior of her room. That would take care of any DNA or fingerprints she might have inadvertently left, although she'd been using Seal-It religiously on her hands since before she checked in.

Remembering that she was now female, she made sure to move differently than she would when passing for male, as she walked to the elevator and pushed the button to go down. The elevator appeared, and she walked on in, joining several other guests on their way to the lobby.

When she got to the lobby, she walked out of the hotel, as coolly as if she were any ordinary guest. She remembered to act shocked and horrified at the mess that disfigured the front of the Police Academy. Already, police and cadets were swarming about, and she discreetly made herself scarce, heading for the nearest public transpo station to get back to the mini-apt and report in to Rayleen that as far as she could tell, their nemesis was dead.