Read Online Bone Song by John Meaney - Free Book Online

passengers were beginning to descend the steps, allowed to disembark.
    No one was waiting to take their photographs or ask them what it felt like to be here.
    There were outriders on low-slung motorbikes, officers with helmets and leather jackets, over-and-under spitguns clipped to the sides of their fuel tanks. They swung in on either side of the motorcade.
    All the cars slid into motion. Donal watched in every direction.
    He had wanted a helicopter overhead, but the fog was even better, providing visual cover from rooftop snipers: not so much here as when they reached the high midtown skyscrapers.
    Except that in those architectural canyons the fog would be thinner.
    Damn it.
    Opportunities to make the hit were everywhere.
    The diva's limo pulled up before the Exemplar. Here, not just journalists but fans had gathered on the sidewalks. Donal's nerves tightened as he exited his car fast and held his badge out for the uniforms to let him through.
    â€œNice to see you, Lieutenant,” said one of them, a gray-haired veteran whom Donal recognized. “Looks like everyone's here to get your autograph.”
    â€œIt's your picture they're taking.” Donal gave a half salute while scanning the windows high up across the street. “Okay, here goes.”
    The diva was exiting her car, and the officers linked arms against the increasingly chaotic pressure of the crowd, as those farther back jostled. The dancing flames above the steps cast golden highlights on the diva as she stopped to wave at the crowd—
don't stay in the open, damn it
—and then ascended the steps so she was under the decorative canopy in front of the door.
    Even here a Seeker round would pick her out through the obstacles. Donal waved at the doormen to usher the diva indoors. One of them bowed and murmured a greeting as he gestured inside, and the diva seemed to flow into the foyer.
    Inside, Donal's own men were already posted at vantage points. He began to feel happier.
    While the diva took the elevator—operated by a human attendant, suitably humble-looking—Donal went up the stairs three treads at a time. By the time he reached the third floor, his breath was coming in big, loud inhalations, and his body had sprung a layer of sweat: reacting to the promise of a hard run.
    But the diva's suite was on the forty-seventh floor, too high to sprint, so Donal walked along the corridor to the laundry elevator, where Levison was already waiting, holding the brass door open. Levison had come here ahead of the cavalcade, and he was looking almost sleepy as he said, “Which floor, sir?”
    But he had already pressed 47 and was hauling the door shut before Donal had finished stepping inside. The elevator car lurched, ascended a few feet and rattled, then rose more smoothly as it gathered speed.
    â€œNice to see you looking calm,” said Donal.
    â€œIf Commissioner Vilnar's got every confidence in you”—Levison spoke with a straight face—“then who am I to argue?”
    â€œYou're absolutely right.” Donal pulled his Magnus a quarter way out of his shoulder holster, then pushed it back in. No problems there. “In your place, I'd be calm too.”
    â€œAnd what about you?”
    â€œI'm scared shitless. I'm looking forward to the whole thing being over, the diva off somewhere else on a plane, heading to Rio Exotico or someplace.”
    â€œAh.” Levison nodded as the dial needle swung through 40 and the elevator's ascent slowed. “That's why the rest of us are relaxed. When you're strung out, everything's in control.”
    â€œThat's nice to know.”
    The elevator car clanked to a halt, and Levison hauled the brass door open. “Looks like we're ready.”
    Twelve uniforms were posted along the corridor. Detectives on the floors above and below were already in place. Two of Donal's squad opened the door of the suite across from the diva's and grinned.
    â€œHey, boss, Lev. You