In Death 10 - Witness in Death

curtain."
    "I need to check all ops. Peabody, do a round. Confirm that all egresses leading below, back, or above stage are secure, then take and maintain your assigned position until further orders."
    "Yes, sir."
    "Roarke, would you show Dr. Mira her observation area?"
    "Of course."
    "Great." She flipped out her communicator. "Feeney, I want those -- what are they -- houselights on for a minute."
    When they flashed on, illuminating the theater, she switched the communicator to blanket transmission. "This is Lieutenant Dallas. In thirty minutes, I want all operation personnel at their assigned stations. If I so much as smell a cop, he or she is on report. Civilian protection is first priority. I repeat, that is priority. Weapons are to remain harnessed, and on low stun. I will not have a repeat of Grand Central."
    She pocketed the communicator. "Roarke, contact me when Dr. Mira is settled."
    "Of course. Break a leg, Lieutenant."
    "What? Oh. Right."
    "She was born for this," Mira said as Eve strode off. "Not just for command, which fits her like skin, but for balancing the wrongs with the rights. Someone else, perhaps anyone else, would have finished this another way."
    "She couldn't."
    "No. It's already cost her. She'll need you when this is done."
    "We're going away for a few days."
    Mira angled her head. "How did you manage to persuade her?"
    "The art of the deal." He offered his arm. "May I escort you to your seat, Doctor?"
    "Lieutenant. McNab, Position Four. First subject approaching theater, stage door entrance."
    "Copy." Eve turned from the backstage monitor to Roarke. "That's your cue. Try not to deviate from the outline, okay? I believe physical risk is minimal, but -- "
    "Trust me."
    "I just want to go over -- "
    "Lieutenant, does it occur to you that I might know what I'm doing?"
    "It occurs to me that you always know what you're doing."
    "Well then, I repeat. Trust me." With that he left to take his mark.
    On the monitor she watched him walk out on the bare stage, stand under the lights. She wondered if he'd ever considered acting. Of course he hadn't, she thought. Deals, shady and otherwise, had been his passion. But he had the face for it and the build, the presence, the grace.
    And, she mused, he had an innate skill with a believable lie.
    Wasn't that acting?
    "Michael." Roarke offered a hand as Proctor entered. "You're prompt."
    "I didn't want to keep everyone waiting." With an easy laugh, Michael glanced around. "The trouble with being prompt is you always wait for everyone else. I was really glad to get your call. I wasn't sure the cops would ever let the theater open again, at least not in time for you to put Witness back into production."
    "They appear to have everything they need from the scene."
    "I want to thank you for giving me the chance to play Vole. I realize you could call in another name actor to fill the part."
    "No qualms?" No, Roarke thought, he didn't see qualms. But ambition. "Considering what happened to Draco, I wondered if you might be somewhat anxious about stepping into the role."
    "No, I'm fine with it. I don't mean fine," he corrected and had the grace to flush. "It's terrible what happened to Richard. Just terrible. But -- "
    "The show must go on," Roarke said smoothly, then glanced over. "Ah, Eliza, and Areena. Ladies, thank you for coming."
    "Your call saved me from boredom and brooding." Eliza stepped up, brushed her cheek to Roarke's. "The boredom of being between acts. And brooding over Kenneth. I still can't believe what I'm hearing on the news."
    "Don't," Areena said. "There's a mistake. There must be." She rubbed her chilly arms. "It's so odd to be here again. I haven't been back since... since opening night."
    "Will you be all right with this?" Roarke took her hand, warmed it in his own.
    "Yes. Yes, I must be, mustn't I? None of us have any choice but to go on."
    "Why shouldn't we?" Carly made an entrance. A deliberate one. She'd applied dramatic makeup to go with an electric blue dress that scooped low at the breasts, stopped short at the thighs.
    For power, she'd told herself. She was damn well going to be powerful.
    "None of us gave a damn about the late, unlamented Richard Draco."
    "Carly," Areena murmured it, a quiet censure.
    "Oh, save the fragile sensibilities for the audience. He fucked us all over at one time or another. Some of us literally," she added with a tight, fierce smile. "We're not here to dedicate our next performance to his memory. We're here