Witchblade: Demons by Michael Barone

Author:Michael Barone [Barone, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, General, Media Tie-In
ISBN: 9780743445207
Google: 5VKOngEACAAJ
Amazon: 0743445201
Barnesnoble: 0743445201
Goodreads: 2568568
Publisher: iBooks
Published: 2002-12-30T00:00:00+00:00

FOURTEEN

Sara was at her desk by 6:30, surprising even the jaded denizens of the night shift who were agonizingly pecking out their final reports of the day before wandering off to fall into bed. The telltale tang of forbidden cigarette smoke hovered in the air. Her desk was monster free.

The immediate problem was to either prove or eliminate Sharpe as a suspect. She awaited Siry’s arrival with a mixture of dread and anticipation. It was the type of dilemma eveiy supervisor hated: investigating one of their own. She needed to share her problem, but she didn’t envy Siry his responsibilities. The worst part was, she liked Sharpe. Her private knowledge notwithstanding, everything about him indicated he was an outstanding cop. His Navy discharge had been honorable, and, of course, there was a reasonable explanation why he hadn’t said he was in the SEALS-they were still considered covert ops.

In the meantime, she prepared a detailed memo covering everything she’d discovered in Sharpe’s apartment,

including the pictures. She did it in longhand, in a notepad, and put it in her locker. Shortly after eight, Siry arrived, looking as if he’d gone home the night before and fallen asleep fully clothed, then rose this morning without looking in the mirror. A heavy stubble covered his chin, and his normally dark and sunken eyes were even more so. He spotted Sara’s anxious expression at once and motioned her into his office with a nod.

Once inside, she pulled the blinds. Siry sat at his desk and began to rummage through the drawers, retrieving a bottle of Alka Seltzer and a tube of Turns. “What? I can just tell by that look on your face. What is it?”

“Joe, is there any chance this office is bugged?”

Siry looked around, as if trying to spot a mosquito. “Bugged? By whom?”

“By Internal Affairs.”

“That’s illegal. I’d have whoever did it up before the police commission. Is it that bad?”

“Maybe we ought to take a walk.”

Detectives and secretaries leaped at them like midway creature features. Chief, you gotta look at this. Chief, you gotta look at that. Siry waved them off with an unlit cigar. “Be right back! Keep your shirt on. Back in five. It’ll keep.”

Sara slapped a black Red Sox hat on top of her pinned-up hair. They went out the back, through the motor pool. No Hayabusa. Exiting the cage, they walked down Church Street, toward Ground Zero.

“Well?”

“I searched Sharpe’s apartment yesterday. I found six swords concealed in a standing safe.”

“What were you doing in Sharpe’s apartment?” He paused. “Wait a minute. You think a cop might be the perp?”

“I’m ... not sure. He collects old swords. He’s a master swordsman. I saw him pulverize James Bratten last week in kendo.” There was more. But she couldn’t bring herself to share it. Not yet. What if she were wrong?

“Hizzoner’s on my ass. Where do we stand with all this? Don’t tell me Sharpe’s your only suspect.”

“Hecht and Bratten are both collectors. Bratten, I can’t see. He doesn’t strike me as the obsessive type.

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