And hovering over all was the ghost of Anja Carvell.

Eve didn't flinch as she watched murder done, as the knife that should have been harmless plunged deep into the heart.

There, she thought and froze the screen. There it is.

Ten thousand witnesses would have missed it.

Hadn't she?

The performance of a lifetime, she realized. In death.

"End program," she ordered. "Eject disc."

She bagged it, gathered others. She engaged her office link for interdepartmental transmission. " Peabody, alert Feeney and McNab. We're moving out."

With a final check of her weapon, she prepared to begin a performance of her own.

Eve's driving, Mira observed from the backseat, was a mirror reflection of her personality. Competent, direct, focused. And fierce. As the car whipped through traffic, bulling into gaps, challenging other charging bumpers, Mira quietly checked the tension on her safety harness.

"You're taking a risk."

Eve gave a quick glance in the rearview, met Mira's eyes. "A calculated one."

"I believe…" Mira trailed off, found herself falling back into childhood prayers as Eve shot into sharp vertical, swung hard to the right, and skimmed crossways over jammed traffic.

"I believe," she continued when she had her breath back, "you've assessed the situation correctly. Still, there's a wide margin for error, which you could eradicate by adhering to strict procedure."

"If I'm wrong, it's on me. Either way, the person who killed Draco and Quim will be in custody by the end of day."

The car dove into an underground parking tunnel, barely slacking speed. It winged like an arrow from a bow toward a reserved slot. Mira's mouth came open, she made some small sound, as they roared toward the security barricade. Eve flipped down her visor to display her ID pass.

Mira would have sworn the barricade emitted a terrified squeal as it leaped clear. They nipped under it, tucked into the narrow slot.

"Well," Mira managed. "Well. That was exciting."

"Huh?"

"It occurs to me, Eve, I've never done a ride-along with you. I begin to see why."

Peabody snorted, shoved open her door. "Take my word, Dr. Mira, that was a leisurely drive around the park."

"Something wrong with my driving?"

"Not that a case of Zoner wouldn't cure," Peabody said under her breath.

"In any case." Mira stepped out of the car, drew Eve's attention away from her aide. "I'm pleased you asked me to be here. Not only because I might be useful, but it gives me an opportunity to observe how you work in the field."

"You're going to have to stay out of the thick." Eve left her car in the secured slot Roarke had arranged, started out to the street and the theater.

"Yes, but I'll be monitoring."

"We've got a little while before the show starts." At the stage door, Eve punched in the code she'd been given. "You'll likely get bored."

"Oh, I sincerely doubt that."

They walked out on the stage, where preparations were already under way.

"Hey, Lieutenant! Heads up, She-Body!"

Twenty feet overhead, McNab swung by in a safety harness. He gave a kick of his shiny green boots and sailed in a very graceful arc.

"Stop that horsing around." Feeney squinted up, wincing when his detective pretended to swim through the air.

"What's he doing up there?" Eve demanded. "Besides making an ass of himself."

"Overhead cams. You gotta be young to enjoy that kind of duty. Most of the equipment was already in place. Roarke didn't miss a trick. But he wasn't setting up for a police op. We're adjusting. We'll be able to monitor the action from all angles."

"Is Roarke on-scene yet?"

"Yeah, he's in control, showing a couple of my techs more than they'd ever hoped to know. The man's a genius with electronics. What I couldn't do with him in EDD."

"Do me a favor and don't mention it. He's hard enough to deal with. Auto-locks set on all exits?"

"Yep. Once everybody's in, nobody gets out. We've got three uniforms, two techs, you, me, and Peabody. And flyboy up there. McNab, get the hell down from there now! You sure you don't want a bigger team?"

Eve did a slow turn, scanned the theater. "We won't need it."

"Feeney." Roarke stepped from the shadows onto the stage. "Your control appears to be set."

"I'll go look it over. McNab! Don't make me come up there. Christ, how many times did I say that to my kids?" With a shake of his head, he walked offstage.

"He's going to hurt himself." Torn between amusement and concern, Peabody nudged Eve's shoulder. "Tell him to come down, Dallas."

"Why me?"

"Because he fears you."

Because the idea of that was pleasing, Eve set her hands on her hips, scowled up, and shouted. "McNab, stop screwing around and get your ass down here."

"Yes, sir."

He came down in a whoosh, cheeks flushed with the thrill. "Man, you gotta try that. What a rush."

"I'm happy we could provide you with some entertainment, Detective. Why shouldn't we have a little fun and frivolity during the course of an elaborate and expensive police operation, particularly when we're employing multi-million dollar civilian equipment and facilities."

"Um," was the best he could do before he cleared his throat. The grin had already been wiped off his face. "The overhead cams are set and operational, Lieutenant. Sir."

"Then maybe you can make yourself useful elsewhere. If it's not too much trouble."

"No, sir. I'll just… go." Somewhere, he thought, and escaped.

"That ought to keep him straight for the next five minutes." She turned to Roarke.

"I don't fear you," he told her. "But I brought you a present." He handed her a mini-remote. "You can signal control," he explained. "For lights, sound, set change. You can direct from any location in the theater. The play's in your hands."

"Opening act's up to you."

"It's already in place." He checked his wrist unit. "You have just over an hour before 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 – "