The In Death Collection 06-10 (113 page)

“All right, I’ll contact him.”

“Concentrate on important buildings, something with tradition.”

“Okay, I’ll get started.”

Mira got to her feet. “I haven’t given you much help.”

“I didn’t give you much to work with.” Then Eve jammed her hands in her pockets. “I’m not really in my area here. I’m used to dealing with straight murder, not the threat of wholesale annihilation.”

“Are the steps that different?”

“I don’t know. I’m still feeling my way around. And while I am, somebody’s got their finger on the button.”

She tried Roarke in his home office first, and got lucky. “Do me a favor,” she said immediately. “Work at home today.”

“For any particular reason?”

Who was to say, she thought, that the sumptuous lobby, the theaters and lounges in his midtown office building didn’t make it the target?

And, if she told him that, he’d be down there in a heartbeat, doing a search and scan personally. She wouldn’t risk it.

“I don’t like asking, but if you could keep on that project we were dealing with last night, it would help a lot.”

He studied her face. “All right. I can shift some things around. I’ve got an auto-search going in any case.”

“Yeah, but you get things done faster when you’re working them yourself.”

He lifted a brow. “I believe that was very nearly a compliment.”

“Don’t get puffed up about it.” She leaned back, tried to look casual. “Look, I’m kind of pressed right now, but can you shoot me some data here?”

“Of what kind?”

“Your properties in New York?”

Now both eyebrows winged up. “All?”

“I said I was pressed for time,” she said dryly. “I don’t have a decade or so to deal with this. Just the really jazzy ones. Jazzy old stuff.”

“Why?”

Why? Shit. “I’m just doing a cross-check. Loose ends. Routine.”

“Darling Eve.” He didn’t smile when he said it, and she began to drum her fingers on the desk.

“What?”

“You’re lying to me.”

“I am not. Jesus, ask a guy for some basic data, data which as his wife I’m entitled to, and he calls you a liar.”

“Now I know you’re lying. You don’t give two damns about my properties, and you hate when I call you my wife.”

“No, I don’t. It’s this certain tone you use that I object to. Forget it,” she said with a shrug. “It’s not important anyway.”

“Which one of my properties do you believe is the target?”

She hissed out a breath. “If I knew, don’t you think I’d tell you? Just send me the goddamn data, will you, and let me do my job.”

“You’ll have it.” His eyes were as cool as his voice now. “And if you find the target, let me know. You can reach me at my midtown office.”

“Roarke, damn it—”

“Do your job, Lieutenant, and I’ll do mine.”

Before she could swear at him again, he’d cut her off. She kicked the desk. “Stubborn, tight-assed son of a bitch.” Without hesitation, she tossed procedure out the window and called Anne Malloy.

“I need an E and B team at a midtown address. Full search and scan.”

“You located the target?”

“No.” She said that much between her teeth, then
forced her jaw to relax. “It’s a personal favor, Anne, I’m sorry to ask. Mira believes one of Roarke’s properties will likely be today’s target. He’s going into his office, and I—”

“Give me the address,” Anne said briskly, “and it’s done.”

Eve closed her eyes, breathed out slowly. “Thanks. I owe you.”

“No, you don’t. I’ve got a man of my own. I’d do the same thing.”

“I owe you anyway. I’ve got data coming in,” she added when her machine beeped. “It’s a place to start. I’ll be sifting through it, hopefully have it narrowed down by our meeting.”

“Fingers crossed, Dallas,” Anne said and signed off.

“Peabody.” Eve signaled her aide. “My office.”

She sat, tunneled her fingers through her hair, then called up the data Roarke had sent her.

“Sir.” Peabody stepped into the room. “I got the reports back on the Cassandra discs. Analysis doesn’t show anything. Standard units, no initializations or prints. No way to trace.”

“Pull up a chair,” Eve ordered. “I’ve got a list here of potential targets. We’ll run a probability scan, try to slim it down.”

“How did you generate the list?”

“Mira’s take is that we’re likely looking for a club or theater. I agree with that. She thinks it’s a pretty good bet they’ll go for one of Roarke’s again.”

“Follows,” Peabody said after a moment, then sat down next to Eve. And gaped at the list scrolling on-screen. “Man, those are his? He
owns
all that?”

“Don’t get me started,” Eve muttered. “Computer, analysis current data, select properties considered landmarks or traditional symbols of New York, and list. Ah, add buildings constructed on historic sites.”

Working . . . .

“That’s a good call,” Peabody said. “You know, I
was in a lot of these places with Zeke. We’d have been even more impressed if we’d known you owned them.”

“Roarke owns them.”

Task complete,
the computer announced with such efficiency Eve eyed it suspiciously.

“Why do you think this thing’s working so well today, Peabody?”

“I’d knock wood when I make statements like that, Lieutenant.” Peabody’s brows drew together as she studied the new list. “That didn’t whittle it down by a whole lot.”

“That’s what he gets for liking old things. The guy has a real obsession for old shit.” She let out a breath. “Okay, we’re thinking club or theater. Mortals gawking at mortals. Computer, which of this list runs matinees today?”

Working. .  . .

“They want people inside,” Eve murmured as the computer burped rudely. “Lives lost. Not just a couple of tour groups, not just employees. Why not go for a full house. Impact.”

“If you’re right, we could still have time enough to stop it.”

“Or we could be peeking in the wrong window and some bar downtown blows up. Okay, okay.” Eve nodded when the new data emerged. “That’s better, that’s workable. Computer, copy current list to disk, print hard copy.”

Eve checked the time, rose. “Let’s get this in to the conference room.” She snatched up the hard copy, stared at it. “What the hell is this?”

Peabody looked over her shoulder. “I think it’s Japanese. I told you to knock on wood, Dallas.”

“Get the damn disc. If it’s in Japanese, Feeney can run it through a translator. Out the fucking window,” she muttered as she strode from the room. “One of these days, out the fucking window.”

The disc proved to be in Mandarin Chinese, but
Feeney dealt with it and put it on the wall screen.

“Mira’s preliminary profile,” Eve began, “and the computer analysis of data and supposition indicates these are the most likely targets. All are entertainment complexes, either landmarks or constructed on the site of destroyed landmarks. All have performances scheduled this afternoon.”

“That’s a good angle.” Anne tucked her hands in her back pockets as she read the screen. “I’ll send out teams for a search and scan.”

“How much time will you need?” Eve asked her.

“Every damn bit of it.” She whipped out her communicator.

“No uniforms and unmarked vehicles,” Eve said quickly. “They may have the buildings under surveillance. Let’s not tip them off.”

With a nod, Anne began to bark orders into her communicator.

“We got through the fail-safe.” Feeney picked up with EDD’s progress. “The old bastard coded his data. I’m running a code breaker, but he used a good one. It’s going to take more time.”

“Let’s hope it’s something worth looking at.”

“McNab tracked down a couple of names from Fixer’s old unit. Men still in the area. I’ve got interviews set up for noon today.”

“Good.”

“Teams are moving.” Anne tucked her communicator away. “I’ll be in the field. You’ll know when I know. Oh, Dallas,” she added as she headed for the door. “That address we discussed earlier? It’s clean.”

“Thanks.”

Anne sent her a grin. “Any time.”

“I’ll be on the code until we have something to move on.” Feeney rattled his bag of candied nuts. “This kind of shit went on all the damn time during the Urban Wars. Mostly we suppressed and subdued, but there’s bigger and better shit out there now.”

“Yeah, but we’re bigger and better, too.”

It made him smile a little. “Goddamn right.”

Eve rubbed her eyes when she was alone with Peabody. The scant three hours’ sleep she’d managed was threatening to fog her brain. “Man the computer in here. As Malloy’s teams report in, adjust the list. I’ll report in to Whitney, then I’ll be in the field. Keep me updated.”

“You could use me in the field, Dallas.”

Eve thought of how close she’d come to getting her aide blown to pieces once already and shook her head. “I need you here,” was all she said, and headed out.

An hour later, Peabody swung between being miserably bored and outrageously edgy. Four buildings had been tagged clean, but there were another dozen to go with just under two hours until noon.

She wandered the room, drank too much coffee. She tried to think like a political terrorist. Eve could do that, she knew. Her lieutenant could slide into the mind of a criminal, walk around in it, visualize a scene from the eyes of a killer.

Peabody envied that skill, though it had occurred to her more than once it couldn’t be a comfortable one.

“If I were a political terrorist, what building in New York would I want to take out to make a statement?”

Tourist traps and lures, she thought. The problem was she’d always avoided that kind of thing. She’d come to New York to be a cop and had deliberately—as a matter of pride, she supposed—avoided all the usual tourist havens.

The fact was, she’d never been inside the Empire State or the Met until Zeke . . .

Her head came up, her eyes brightened. She’d call Zeke. She knew he’d studied his guide disc front and back and sideways. So where would he, as an eager tourist from Arizona, most like to attend a weekday matinee?

She turned from the window to start toward the ’link, then scowled when McNab strolled in.

“Hey, She-Body, they dump you on desk duty, too?”

“I’m busy, McNab.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” He wandered to the AutoChef, poked. “This thing’s out of coffee.”

“Then go drink somewhere else. This isn’t a damn café.” She wanted him out and gone on general principles, and because she didn’t want him smirking when she called her little brother.

“I like it here.” Partially because he wanted to know, and partially to annoy her, he leaned over her monitor. “How many have been eliminated?”

“Get away from there. I’m manning this unit. I’m working here, McNab.”

“What are you so touchy about? You and Charlie have a spat?”

“My personal life is none of your business.” She tried for dignity, but something about him always put her back up. She marched over, elbowed him aside. “Why don’t you go play with your motherboard?”

“I happen to be part of this team.” To irritate her, he plopped his butt on the table. “And I outrank you, sweetheart.”

“Only through some obvious glitch in the system.” She jabbed her finger in his chest. “And don’t call me sweetheart. The name is Peabody, Officer Peabody, and I don’t need some half-wit, skinny-assed e-man breathing down my neck when I’m on assignment.”

He glanced down at the finger that had jabbed twice more into his chest. When he lifted his gaze, she was mildly surprised to see his usually cheerful green eyes had gone to pricks of ice. “You want to be careful.”

The chilly steel of his voice surprised her, too, but she was too far in to back off. “About what?” she said and gleefully jabbed him again.

“About physically assaulting a superior officer. I’ll only tolerate so much of your abuse before I start dishing it back out.”

“
My
abuse. You come sniffing around every time I
blink with your lame comments and innuendos. You try to horn in on my cases—”

“
Your
cases. Now she’s got delusions of grandeur.”

“Dallas’s cases are my cases. And we don’t need you poking into them. We don’t need you strolling in for comic relief with your stupid jokes. And
I
don’t need you asking questions about my relationship with Charles, which is completely private and none of your damn business.”

“You know what you do need, Peabody?”

Since she’d raised her voice to a shout, he did the same. And he was up, toe to toe, nearly nose to nose.

“No, McNab, just what do you think I need?”

He hadn’t intended to do it. He didn’t think. Well, maybe he had. Either way, it was done. He’d grabbed her arms, he’d yanked her hard, and his mouth was currently doing a damn fine job of devouring hers.