Purity in Death (13 page)

"Har-de-har. Tell me you've isolated the cause."

"I can tell you this. Preliminary scan shows a healthy forty-two-year-old female. Broke her left tibia at one point, healed beautifully. She's had some minor face and body work. Excellent job all around. Have to wait on the tox reports to tell you if she considered her body a temple or believed in chemical enhancements."

"Her body's not a big concern of mine right now. Tell me about her brain."

"Massive swelling that would have resulted in death within hours. Irreversible, in my opinion after the initial spread of infection, which is confirmed on the other brains in question by the neurologist I've brought in. The brain contains no foreign matter, no tumor, no chemical or organic stimulant. The infection, for lack of a better word, remains unidentified."

"You're not making my day here, Morris."

He gave her a little come-ahead with his finger, rinsed his hands, then brought an image onto a monitor. "Here you've got a computerized cross-section of the brain of a normal, healthy fifty-year-old male. Here." He tapped a key. "You've got Cogburn's."

"Christ."

"In a word. You can see the increased mass, the bruising where it was squeezed as the pressure increased. The red areas indicate the infection."

"It spread through, what, more than fifty percent?"

"Fifty-eight. Notice that some of the red is darker than others. Older infection. This would seem to be the area where it began. This leads us to believe it was an initial optical attack, and here . . . audio."

"So, it's caused by something he saw, something he heard."

"He may not have been able to hear or see it-not with ears and eyes. But a bombardment on these two senses into the lobes of the brain that run them."

"Subliminal then."

"Possibly. I can tell you that what we found so far indicates that the infection can and does spread quickly, causing the swelling to increase, sector by sector. Whether it's self-generated or requires further stimuli, we haven't determined. I can tell you that the pain and suffering this process would cause is unspeakable."

"Latest polls say most people don't think that's such a bad thing."

"Most people are, academically at least, barbarians." Morris smiled when she looked at him. "Easy to say 'Off with their heads' when you don't have to stand in the blood and have that head roll between your feet. A little of it splatters on them, they start calling for a cop."

"I don't know, Morris, sometimes it splatters on enough of them, and they get a good taste, they turn into a mob." She dragged out her communicator when it beeped.

"Dallas."

"Lieutenant, you're due at the media center in thirty."

"Commander, I'm at the morgue with the ME, awaiting further tests on Mary Ellen George's brain. I need to finish this consult and update my team. I request that-"

"Denied. In thirty, Dallas. Have your aide transmit your incident report and any additional data to my office ASAP. It will need to be reviewed and disseminated for the media."

When Whitney broke transmission, Morris gave her a little pat on the back. "I know, I know. Sucks sideways."

"They sicced the deputy mayor and Chang on me."

"I wouldn't wonder if Franco and Chang were thinking you'd been sicced on them. Run along now and go assure the viewing public that the city is safe in your hands."

"If I didn't need you, I'd be tempted to beat you up for that."

***

She suffered through the preconference briefing, read the newly drafted statements, filed away what she was told could be discussed, what she was told could not. But she bared her teeth when Franco suggested she freshen up before the cameras and try a little lip dye.

"The fact that I have breasts doesn't require me to slap on enhancements."

Franco sighed and waved her hovering aides out of the room. "Lieutenant. I didn't mean that as an insult. We're women, and whatever position of power and authority we hold, we remain women. Some of us are more comfortable with that than others."

"I'm perfectly comfortable being female. I'll do what I'm ordered to do, Deputy Mayor. I don't have to like it. I don't even have to agree with it. I just have to do it. But I sure as hell don't have to doll myself up because you'd prefer a different police image on-screen than what I might present."

"Agreed, agreed, agreed." Franco threw up her hands. "I apologize for making the insulting suggestion that you might put a little color on your mouth. I don't think of lip dye as a tool of Satan."

"Neither do I. Mostly I just don't like how it looks on me, or the way it tastes."

Franco let out another sigh, sat. "Listen, it's been a rough couple of days for all of us. Likely to get rougher. The mayor wants me to work with you, your boss wants you to work with me. We're stuck here. I don't want to battle with you over every step and detail."

"Then lay off."

"Jesus. Let me say this. You and I are both women with a strong sense of public duty. We're committed to doing our jobs, though we may employ vastly different methods and hold different attitudes. I love New York, Lieutenant. I sincerely love this city, and I'm proud to serve it."

"I don't doubt that, ma'am."

"Jenna. We're working together, call me Jenna. I'll call you Eve."

"No. But you can call me Dallas."

"Ah, and there we have one of our key variations. You hold your line, as a woman, by employing more traditionally male methods. I hold mine with the female. I enjoy exploiting my looks, my femininity for my own uses. It works for me, it's helped me get where I am to present an attractive package over the brains, the ambition, the sweat. Just as your method has worked for you. I distrust women like you. You distrust women like me."

"I distrust politicians in general."

Franco angled her head. "If you're thinking to insult me enough that I'll toss you out of this press conference, let me tell you, in the insult game, cops are amateurs compared to politicians."

She checked her slim, gold wrist unit. "We're due. At least comb your hair."

Keeping her face carefully blank Eve raked her fingers through her hair, twice. "That's it."

Franco paused with her hand on the doorknob, looked Eve up and down. "How in God's name did you manage to snap a man like Roarke?"

Very slowly, Eve got to her feet. "If you're thinking to insult me enough that I plant a fist in your face and get myself removed from this investigation so you can toss the media a more attractive image as primary, I'll tell you that while it's very tempting, I'm going to see this case through. I'm going to close it. After that, all bets are off."

"Then we understand each other. Whatever our personal feelings, we see this case to closure."

Franco stepped out and was immediately swallowed by her pack of aides.

"Lieutenant! Lieutenant!" Chang trotted after Eve, hustling to catch up with her long, angry strides. "I have your media schedule for tomorrow."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Your schedule." He handed her a disc. "You will begin in the seven o'clock hour of Planet with a two-minute interview with K. C. Stewart. This is global and has the highest ratings. At ten, we have arranged for a live feed from your office at Central with the crew from City Beat. Again, this is the highest rated-"

"Chang, do I have to explain to you where this disc is going to end up if you keep talking to me?"

His mouth thinned, then pursed. "This is my job, Lieutenant, and I've worked very hard to arrange for these appearances in order to keep the agendas of the NYPSD and the office of the mayor at the forefront of this media blitz. The latest polls-"

"The latest polls are going to end up in the same place this disc does if you don't get out of my face." Riding on fury, she snapped the disc in half, then whirled around and stormed straight to the commander.

"You either want a cop or a media shill. I won't be both. If, in your opinion, the media perception is more important than my investigation, then respectfully, sir, you're full of shit."

He caught her arm before she could spin away. "One moment, Lieutenant."

"You can write me up, you can bust my rank, but I will not spend the hours I should be in the field doing my job as some talking head on-screen so the mayor's office gets better numbers."

"As long as you're under my command, Lieutenant, you will not tell me what you will or will not do."

Behind her, Chang smirked. Then carefully schooling his face, he held out a copy of the broken disc. "Commander Whitney, as Lieutenant Dallas has damaged her copy, I'll prefer to give you her media schedule for tomorrow."

"What media schedule?"

"We have several important segments booked, including appearances on Planet, City Beat, Del Vincent, and The Evening Report. We're waiting for confirmation on Crime and Punishment and Speak Back."

"You've booked my lieutenant on no less than four media appearances?"

Chang nodded. "We're very pleased with the schedule, but it can be improved. We're arranging a satellite interview from Delta Colony. The ratings are very high there for crime segments."

"Are you aware, Mr. Chang, that Lieutenant Dallas is the primary in charge of a priority homicide investigation?"

"Yes, this is why-"

"Are you also aware that standard procedure requires that your office clear any such demands as this media schedule with my office before confirming the appearances?"

"I believed it was made clear at this afternoon's meeting. The mayor-"

"What was made clear at this morning's meeting was that Lieutenant Dallas would participate in this press conference, and that at my directive she would make herself available for comment to the media. This schedule has not, and will not, be approved by me. I'm not wasting my lieutenant's valuable time on media pandering."

"The mayor's office-"

"Can contact me," Whitney interrupted. "Don't again presume to give one of my cops orders, Chang. You overreach your authority. Now back off. I need to speak to my lieutenant."

"The media conference-"

"I said back off." The flare from Whitney's eyes could have seared through stone. Eve heard Chang scramble back.

"Commander-"

He held up a hand. "You've come perilously close to being written up for insubordination, Lieutenant. I expect better control from you, and have rarely had the need to remind you of it."

"Yes, sir."

"Moreover, I find myself insulted both on a personal and professional level that you assumed I had or would approve an asinine schedule that pulls you off a priority."

"I apologize, Commander, and can only offer the weak excuse that any and all contact with Lee Chang results in my temporary insanity."

"Understood." Whitney turned the disc over in his hand. "It surprises me, Dallas, that you didn't shove this down his throat."

"Actually, sir, I had another orifice in mind."

His lips quirked, just slightly. Then he snapped the disc in two, just as she had.

"Thank you, Commander."

"Let's get this damn circus over with, so we can both get back to work."

Chapter 11

She got through it, parroting the departmental chorus. As a result of stifling her own opinion, ignoring her own gut instincts, she stewed in her own simmering juices all the way home.

"Dallas." They were nearly at the gates when Peabody dared to speak. That way, if Eve tossed her bodily out of the car, she wouldn't have far to hike. "Don't take my head off, okay? You did what you had to do."

"What I have to do is investigate the case, and close it."

"Yeah, but sometimes serving the public's complicated. There are a lot of people who'll sleep easier tonight because they heard their home unit isn't going to fry their brains if they sit down and balance their financials or do some e-mail. If their kid does his school report. That's important."

"I'll tell you what I think." Eve headed toward the gates without dropping speed so that beside her Peabody's heart took a fast spring into her throat. "I think people shouldn't always believe what they hear."

"Sir. I'm not sure I follow you."

"Maybe whoever's manning the switch doesn't like the way Mr. Smith with his pretty wife and charming little girl and small household pet lives his life. Maybe he decides Mr. Smith shouldn't be cruising the porn sites, or stopping off at a strip club after a hard day selling furniture, or occasionally getting zonked on Zoner with his pretty wife. Mr. Smith isn't following all the rules as well as he should be. Time to make an example of Mr. Smith so others like him understand the program."

"But, they're going after known predators. I'm not saying it's right. I'm not saying that, Dallas, because it's not. But it's a really big leap to go from school yard dealers and pedophiles to some guy who takes some recreational Zoner on Saturday night."

"Is it?" Eve stopped the car at the base of the front steps. "The law's ignoring Mr. Smith. It hasn't punished him, just like it didn't punish the others. Purity punished them, and a lot of people thought: Hey, that's not a bad idea. Cops didn't do the job, so good, somebody else did. Nobody's thinking, hmm, that Mary Ellen George was acquitted. Maybe she was innocent."

"She wasn't, so-"

"No, she wasn't, but the next one could be. The one after that. It's not easy to watch somebody walk, but it's a hell of a lot easier than it is to know an innocent didn't. These people are deciding who's guilty. With what criteria, what system, what authority? Their own. They're rolling, Peabody, and public opinion's rolling with them. Let's see how happy the public is when it starts coming into their homes, their lives."

"You really think that'll happen?"

"Damn right it'll happen, unless we stop them. It'll happen because they're on a mission, and there's nothing more dangerous than someone on a mission."

She should know, Eve thought as she slammed out of the car. She'd been on one since she'd picked up a badge.

When she walked in, it was one of the rare times she wasn't annoyed to see Summerset lurking in the foyer.

"Lieutenant, I'd like to have some idea how many of your guests will be staying overnight."

"They're not guests. They're cops and a kid. Head on up, Peabody, I've got something to do here."

"Yes, sir." And assuming that something was to have her usual pissing match with Summerset, Peabody darted up to check on McNab.

"Give me the status on McNab, and give it in English," Eve demanded.

"There's no change."

"That's not enough. Aren't you supposed to be doing something?"

"The nerves and muscles aren't responding to stimuli."

"Maybe we should've left him in the hospital." She paced the foyer. "Maybe we shouldn't have brought him here."

"The simple truth is there would be little more they could do for him there as can be done here during the first twenty-four hours."

"We're past twenty-four," she snapped. "We're over that, and he should have it back." She stopped herself, pulled it back in, and studied Summerset's cadaverous face. "What are his chances? Don't pretty it up. What are his chances of regaining sensation and mobility?"

"They decrease by the hour now. Rapidly."

He watched Eve close her eyes, turn away. But before she did, he saw the raw grief. "Lieutenant. McNab is young and he's fit. Those qualities play strongly in his favor. Being allowed to work at this time helps keep his mind active and off his difficulties. That can't be discounted."

"They'll bounce him on disability, or stick him in a cube doing drone work. He'll never feel like a cop again once that happens. He prances when he walks," she said quietly. "Now he's stuck in that chair. Goddamn it."

"Arrangements have been made with the clinic in Switzerland. I believe Roarke mentioned this." He waited until she turned around, looked at him again. "They'll take him as early as next week. They have an impressive rate of success in regenerating nerves. He must continue his treatments until-"

"What's their rate?"

"Seventy-two percent with injuries similar to McNab's make a full recovery."

"Seventy-two."

"It's not impossible he'll recover naturally. In an hour. A day."

"But his chances of that suck."

"In a word. I am sorry."

"Yeah, so am I." She started up.

"Lieutenant? He's frightened. He's pretending not to be, but he's a very frightened young man."

"They used to put bullets in you," she murmured. "Little steel missiles that ripped through flesh and bone. I wonder, when it comes down to it, if this is any cleaner."

She walked up, and into her office to what appeared to be a recreation break. Her team was spread out, lounging, she thought sourly, while each sucked on the beverage of his choice.

Jamie was feeding Galahad little bits from what seemed to be a sandwich the size of Utah. Perched on the arm of McNab's chair, Peabody filled them in on the details of the media conference.

"Well, this all looks so nice and cozy," she said. "I bet those terrorists are shaking in their boots."

"You gotta rest the brain cells and orbs every few hours," Feeney told her.

She stepped over the feet Roarke had stretched out. He could consider himself lucky, she decided, she didn't give them a good kick. She walked directly to her desk. Sat. "Maybe while you're resting those cells and orbs, someone could take just a moment out of playtime and update me."

"Missed lunch again, didn't you?" Roarke said mildly.

"Yes, I did. It had something to do with the woman who'd hanged herself with her own bedsheets, the pesky little details of serial homicides, an annoying little meeting with city officials-some of whom seem to be more interested in media image than those inconvenient dead people-and the hour or so I was ordered to spend feeding those media hounds."

She bared her teeth in a smile that had Jamie sliding down in his chair. "And how was your day?"

Roarke rose, took half the sandwich Jamie and the cat had yet to devour and set it in front of her. "Eat."

Eve shoved it aside. "Report."

"Now, let's not have any bloodshed." Feeney shook his head. The two of them made him think of a couple of bulls about to ram heads. "We've got some progress for you, which is why we're on break. We built a shield that partially filtered the virus. We think we've nearly isolated the infection on the Cogburn unit. We were able to extrapolate a portion of it. Computer's running an analysis now. Once we've got that, we may be able to simulate the rest of the program without going back into an infected unit."

"How long?"

"I can't give you that. It's a program the likes of which I've never seen. Encoded, fail-safed. We're working with the bits and pieces we got out before the sucker self-terminated."

"You lost the unit?"

"That baby is fried," Jamie put in. "Didn't just blast the program, it killed the whole machine. Toasted it. But we got some good data. We'd have had enough to be sure of a sim if Roarke had had another minute-even forty-five seconds, but-"

He trailed off because Eve was getting to her feet. Really slow. Something in the movement made him think of a snake coiling up right before it lashed out with fangs.

"You operated the Cogburn unit?"

"I did, yes."

"You operated an infected unit, using an experimental filter, one that subsequently failed? And you took this step without direct authorization from the primary."

"Dallas." Feeney rose. It was a testament to his courage under fire that he didn't back off when she murdered him with one vicious glare. "The electronic end of this investigation falls on me. The lab work falls under my hand."

"And your hand falls under mine. I should have been notified of this step. You know that."

"It was my call."

"Was it?" She looked back at Roarke as she spoke. "Get out."

No one mistook she meant for Roarke to leave. The general exodus was more of a scramble. And at the doorway, Feeney batted the flat of his hand at the back of Jamie's head.

"What?" Sulkily, Jamie rubbed the spot. "What?"

"I'll tell you what," Feeney muttered and closed the door at his back.

Eve kept the desk between them. She wasn't entirely sure what she might do without the symbolic barrier holding the line. "You may run half the known universe, but you don't run my investigation, my operations, or my team."

"Nor do I have any desire to, Lieutenant." His voice was just as cold, just as hard as hers.

"What the hell do you think you were doing? Exposing yourself to an unidentified infection so you could prove you've got the biggest dick?"

His eyes flashed hot, then chilled. "You've had a very difficult day, so I'll take that into consideration. The filter needed to be tested, the program isolated and analyzed."

"With sims, with computer runs, with-"

"You're not an e-man," he interrupted. "You may be in charge of the investigation, but what goes on in the lab is beyond your scope."

"Don't you tell me what's beyond my scope."

"I am telling you. I could spend the next hour explaining the technical ins and outs of the thing to you, and you wouldn't understand the half of it. It's not your field, but it's one of mine."

"You're a-"

"Don't you toss that civilian bullshit at me, not over this. You wanted my help, so I'm part of this team."

"I can take you off the team."

"Aye, you could." He nodded, then reached out, fisted a hand in her shirtfront and pulled her across the desk. "But you won't, because the dead mean more to you than even your pride."

"They don't mean more than you."

"Well, damn it." He released her, jammed his hands in his pockets. "That was a low blow."

"You had no right to risk yourself. Not even to tell me. You went around me on this, and that pisses me off. You took a chance with your life that I find unacceptable."

"It was necessary. And it wasn't some blind leap, for Christ's sake. I'm not a fool."

He thought of the weapon he'd secreted just in case. And the small gray button he'd rubbed like a charm before he'd begun the work.

No, he wasn't a fool, but he'd felt a bit like one.

"There were four e-men in that lab who agreed the step had to be taken," he continued. "I was monitored, and the exposure was limited to ten minutes."

"The filter blew."

"It did, yes. Blew to hell in just over eight minutes. Jamie has some ideas on that I think are sound."

"How long were you exposed without a shield?"

"Under four minutes. A bit closer to three, actually. No ill effects," he added. "But for a little nagging headache."

He grinned when he said it, and she wanted to strangle him. "That's not funny."

"Maybe not. Sorry. My medicals are clear, and we have a partial picture of the infection. It required a human operator, Eve, one who knows his way inside a computer, and who knows the tricks and blocks a good programmer employs. If I hadn't done it, Feeney would have."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? Why didn't he?" she demanded. "He wouldn't have just passed this to you."

"We decided it logically. We flipped a coin."

"You-" She broke off, rubbed her hands roughly over her face. "Somebody implied today I chose to act or think like a man. Boy, was she out of orbit on that."

She dropped her hands. "Whether or not the electronics lab is out of my scope, it is under my authority. I expect and insist on being informed and consulted before any step is taken that carries personal risk to any of my team."

"Agreed. You're right," he said after a moment. "You should've been informed. It can be a tricky balancing act. I'm sorry for my part in cutting you out of the loop."

"Accepted. And though I've about hit my quota of apologizing today, I'll add one more for bringing your dick into the argument."

"Accepted."

"I need to ask you a question."

"All right."

Her stomach was knotted, but she would say the words. She would ask the question. "If you think these people are justified in what they're doing, if you think their targets deserve what they get, why would you risk this? Why would you take this chance with your own welfare to help me stop them?"

"For Christ's sake, Eve, you're like a goddamn chessboard. Black and white." Temper was there, bubbling in a way she knew meant it could spurt out any moment.

"I don't think that's an unreasonable question."

"You wouldn't. Why do you think that I think this is justified? I feel no twinge of remorse or pity for someone like Fitzhugh and suddenly I'm the side of terrorists?"

"I didn't mean it exactly like . . . Maybe I did."

"You think I'm capable of finding any justification in what happened to that poor boy, Halloway?"

"No." She felt vaguely ill. "But the others."

"Perhaps I can believe the pure philosophy of it. That evil, real evil, can and should be destroyed by whatever means possible. But I'm not stupid enough, and not quite egocentric enough to believe there can be purity in the spilling of blood. Or that it can be done, in general, without law and courts and humanity."

"In general."

"You would pin that, wouldn't you?" He nearly laughed. "We can't think just the same on this issue."