Far below, I could see Clary standing next to the coffee stand. “Oh, yeah, it’s a great view. Just once, I’d like to fight in a wide open field rather than in a mall, or a house that collapses on my head, or where I could be dropped eleven stories—or fifty—to a splattering end. Somewhere boring.”
“How about a basement?” Reed asked with a half-smile.
“Keep it up, wise guy, and I’ll throw you off myself.”
Eve and Bastian approached from the other side, converging with us upon the door of Eleanor Madigan’s hotel room at a very casual pace. We all stopped, wordless, outside, halting on either side of the frame so there wouldn’t be any chance for her to see us through the peephole. Bastian held up his hand and gestured to indicate we would be breaking down the door in seconds. I steadied myself and drew the replacement pistol I’d pulled from the quartermaster and took a deep breath, pressing my shoulder to the door next to the frame. Eve stood across from me, Bastian behind her. It was understood that I would be second through the door, and I pulled my gloves off, wiping my hands on my jeans, ridding myself of the excessive sweat on my palms.
I tried to concentrate, tuning out the faint warbling sound of music being piped in over speakers, the scent of lilac pumped into the air conditioners to give the place a nicer smell, the feel of the crosshatching of the gun’s grip in my hand and the sight of Eve tensing across from me, her arms bared because she had left her jacket in the car, her pixie-blond haircut almost white because of the lighting.
She moved, rolling herself off the frame and in front of the door, gun drawn, and kicked, breaking it off its hinges. “FBI!” she called and burst into the room, leading with her pistol in one hand and her other hand extended, ready to cast one of the webs of pure energy that her Peri-type meta powers allowed her to command.
I led with my gun, following behind her only a pace or two, watching her blouse ruffle as she slid through the hotel room’s entry, past the bathroom without clearing it. I pointed my weapon inside; the lights were off, and I ducked in and flipped them on while Bastian passed behind me to back up Eve. I ripped the shower curtain off the rings to be certain the room was clear, then turned to see Reed pass the bathroom door. I could hear them in my earpiece now that we’d gone active, and Eve’s clipped Germanic accent reported, “Clear,” both in my ear and also muffled on the other side of the bathroom wall.
“Her clothes and personal effects are still here,” Bastian said as I joined them. A simple queen-sized bed sat in the middle of the room, red overtones on everything from the carpet to the bedspread giving the place a warm feeling. The bed was made, the suitcase open but in perfect order. “But this room doesn’t look very disturbed. Too clean.”
“To you, perhaps,” Eve said, unsmiling. “This is how it looks whenever I travel.”
“You make your own bed?” Reed asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I prefer everything well ordered.”
“Sighting,” Parks’ voice came over the earpiece. “We have eyes on target; she is in the lobby and moving toward the elevator.”
“Reed,” Bastian said, “make sure the hallway’s clear. Let’s see if we can set the door back up and lure her in.”
“That’s a negatory,” I said. “That sucker is off the hinges. Even an idiot would bolt if they went to unlock the door and it just fell in.”
I saw Bastian’s eyes waver as he pondered the options. “Then we take her getting off the elevator.”