The In Death Collection 06-10 (82 page)

“I know my priorities.”

“Good. Until further notice, this case, and all related data, are blocked from the media. I want
nothing new to leak. Any and all data relating is to be on a need-to-know basis, with full copies encoded to my attention.”

“You believe we have a leak in the department?”

“I think East Washington is much too interested in our
business. Put
together a team, keep it Code Five from this point,” he ordered, blocking any unsealed interdepartmental reports and adding a
media block. “Put this one to bed.”

“I can run a probability scan back in EDD in half the time it’s going to take you to put it
through this reject from the ark.”

“You’re not in EDD, McNab.”

“You’re telling me. And if you want a full run on the London victim done right, I should be
doing it. I’m the E-detective.”

“I’m the primary’s aide. Stop breathing on me.”

“You smell pretty good, She-Body.”

“You’re not going to have a nose to smell with in about five seconds.”

Eve paused outside her office door and rapped her fists against the sides of her head. This was her team,
squabbling like a couple of five-year-olds while Mom was away.

God help her.

They were glaring at each other when she stepped in. Both jerked back, shifted attention to her, and
struggled to look innocent.

“Recess is over, kids. Move it into the conference room. I tagged Feeney on my way down. I want
all data on all cases streamlined and cross-checked by end of shift.
We need to bag this bastard before he
adds to his collection.”

After she’d turned on her heel and strode out, McNab broke into a grin. “Man, I love
working with her. You think we’ll headquarter in her home office on this one? Roarke’s got the best toys on the
block.”

Peabody only sniffed and began to gather discs and files. “We work where the lieutenant says we
work.” She rose, bumped into him, and felt her nerves sizzle. She stared dolefully into his cheerful green eyes.
“You’re in my way, McNab.”

“I keep trying. So how’s Charlie?”

She counted to ten, then replied,
“Charles
is fine, and it’s none of your business.
Now move your skinny ass.” She gained some pleasure in elbowing him aside as she stomped out.

McNab merely sighed, rubbed his sore gut. “You sure do it for me, She-Body,” he muttered.
“Christ knows why.”

Eve paced the conference room. She needed to put Bowers and that situation out of her mind. She was
nearly there, she told herself. Just a little more cursing, a little more pacing, and she would have put Bowers in some deep, dark hole.
With a few rats for company, she decided, and a single crust of moldy bread.

Yeah, that was a good image. She took two more cleansing breaths and rounded on Peabody as her aide
entered. “Death scene stills, on the board. Work up a location map, highlighting each crime scene. Victims’ names
referenced with appropriate city.”

“Yes, sir.”

“McNab. Give me what you’ve got.”

“Okay, well—”

“And keep the chatter and editorials to a minimum,” Eve added and made Peabody
snicker.

“Sir,” he began, miffed, “I’ve got your top health and research centers in the
cities in question. On mainframe, disc and hard copy.” Since the hard copy was handy, he nudged it across the desk.
“I cross-checked your short list
of docs from New York. You can see there that all of them have an
affiliation with at least one of the other centers. My research indicates that there are only three hundred–odd surgeons with
organ plucking as a specialty who possess the skill required to have performed the procedure that killed all subject
victims.”

He stopped, damn proud of his quick, no-nonsense report. “I’m still running like crimes.
The reason for the time lag stems from the filing and investigative avenues pursued in other areas.”

He just couldn’t stand it anymore. He sat on the edge of the desk, crossed his slick green airboots at
the ankles. “See, it looks to me like some of the homicide guys either buried the cases because it’s, like, who cares, or
figured it was just another weird street crime. They gotta plug it in before IRCCA can pick it up on the first pass. Otherwise, we have
to dig, which I’m doing. What I’m hitting mostly is cult and domestic stuff. I’ve got a lot of castrations
performed in the home by irate cohabitators or spouses. Man, you wouldn’t believe how many women whack a guy off
permanent because he didn’t keep his dick in his pants. Six new eunuchs in North Carolina in the past three months.
It’s like an epidemic or something.”

“That’s a fascinating bit of trivia, McNab,” Eve said dryly. “But for now,
let’s stick with the internal organs.” She jerked a thumb toward the computer. “Narrow it down. I want one
health center per city that fits.”

“You ask, it’s done.”

“Feeney.” Eve’s shoulders relaxed fractionally when he strolled in, carrying his bag
of nuts. “What have you got on the pin?”

“Nothing to that one. Three locations in the city carry that design in eighteen carat. The jewelry store
at the Drake Center, Tiffany’s on Fifth, and DeBower’s downtown.”

He juggled the bag absently, watching Peabody clip stills to the board. “The eighteen carat runs
about five grand. Most of the classier health centers run an account with Tiffany’s on the pin. They buy in bulk to give to
graduating interns. Gold or silver, depending on placement. Last year, Tiffany’s moved seventy-one gold,
ninety-six silver. Ninety-two percent of those were through direct accounts with hospitals.”

“According to Louise, most doctors have them,” Eve commented. “But not all of
them wear them. I saw Tia Wo wearing one, Hans Vanderhaven. And Louise,” she added with a frown. “We’ll
have to see if we can find out who’s lost one recently. Keep tabs on the three outlets. Whoever did might want a
replacement.”

She tucked her hands in her pockets and turned to the board. “Before we start, you need to know
the commander’s put a media block on us. No interviews, no comments. We’re Code Five, so all data pertaining to
any of these cases is now on a need-to-know basis. Files are to be encoded.”

“Departmental leak?” Feeney wanted to know.

“Maybe. But there’s pressure, political pressure, coming in from East Washington. Feeney,
how much can you find out about Senator Waylan of Illinois without alerting him or his staff of a search?”

A slow smile brightened Feeney’s rumpled face. “Oh, just about anything down to the size
of his jockies.”

“I’m betting on fat ass and small dick,” she muttered and had McNab snorting.
“Okay, here are my thoughts. He’s collecting,” she began, moving to the board to gesture at the stills.
“For fun, for profit, because he can. I don’t know. But he’s systematically collecting defective organs. He
removes them from the scene. In at least one case, we know there was a transfer bag, so odds are that pattern holds for all. If
he’s careful to preserve the organ, he has to have some place to keep them.”

“A lab,” Feeney said.

“It follows. Private. Maybe even in his home. How does he find them? He’s tagged each one
of them ahead of time. These three,” Eve added, tapping a finger on stills, “were all taken out in New York and all had
a connection with the Canal Street Clinic. He has access to their data. He’s either associated with the clinic or he has
someone on the inside passing him what he wants.”

“Could be a cop,” Peabody murmured and shifted uncomfortably when all eyes turned to
her. “Sir.” She cleared her throat. “The beat cops and scoopers know these people. If we’re
concerned about a leak in the department, maybe we should consider the leak includes passing data to the killer.”

“You’re right,” Eve said after a moment. “It could be right at our
door.”

“Bowers works the sector where two of the victims were taken out.” McNab swiveled in his
chair. “We already know she’s a wild hair. I can run an all-level search and scan on her.”

“Shit.” Uneasy, Eve paced to the window, winced against the bouncing glare of sun off
snow. If she ordered the search, it would have to go through channels, be put on record. It could, and would in some quarters, smell
of harassment.

“We can order it out of EDD,” Feeney said, understanding. “My name goes on the
request, it puts it off you.”

“I’m primary,” Eve murmured. So it was duty to the job and to the dead.
“The order goes out of here, with my name on it. Send it now, McNab, let’s not piss around.”

“Yes, sir.” He swung back to the computer.

“We’re getting no cooperation from the primary in Chicago,” she went on.
“So we turn the heat up there. We wait for the data to come in from London.” She walked back to the board, studied
the faces. “But we sure as hell have enough to keep us busy in the meantime. Peabody, what do you know about
politics?”

“A necessary evil that on rare occasions works without corruption, abuse, and waste.” She
smiled a little. “Free-Agers rarely approve of politicians, Dallas. But we’re terrific at nonviolent protests.”

“Tune up your Free-Ager and take a look at the American Medical Association. See how much
corruption, abuse, and waste you can find. I’m going to put a fire
under that asshole at CPSD, and
check with Morris to see if the autopsy’s finished on Jilessa Brown.”

Back in her office, she tried Chicago first, and when she was again passed to Kimiki’s E-mail, she
snarled and opted to go over his head.

“Putz,” she said under her breath and waited to be transferred to his shift commander.

“Lieutenant Sawyer.”

“Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD,” she said briskly, measuring her man. He had a long, thin, weary
face the color of tobacco, eyes of a deep gray, and a mouth thin as a stiletto from corner to corner. “I’m working on a
series of homicides here that appear to link with a case out of your house.”

She continued to watch his face as she detailed information, saw the faint line form between his brows.
“One minute, New York.”

He blanked the screen, leaving Eve drumming her fingers on the desk for three full minutes. When he came
back on, his face was carefully composed. “I haven’t received a request for data transfer in this matter. The case you
refer to has been shifted to inactive and unsolved.”

“Look, Sawyer, I talked to the new primary over a week ago. I made the request. I’ve got
three bodies here, and my investigation points to a connection with yours. You want to dump the case, fine, but dump it here. All
I’m asking is a little professional cooperation. I need that data.”

“Detective Kimiki is currently on leave, New York. We get our share of dead files here in Chicago,
too. I’d say your request just fell through the cracks.”

“Are you going to fish it out?”

“You’ll have the files within the hour. I apologize for the delay. Let me have your ID number
and transfer information. I’ll handle it personally.”

“Thanks.”

One down,
Eve thought when she finished with Chicago. She caught Morris in his office.

“I’m putting it together now, Dallas. I’m only one man.”

“Give me the highlights.”

“She’s dead.”

“You’re such a joker, Morris.”

“Anything to brighten your day. The abdomen wound was cause of death. Wound was caused by a
laser scalpel, again wielded with considerable skill. The victim was anesthetized prior to death. In this case, the wound was left
unsealed, and the victim bled out. Her liver was removed. She had herself a ripe case of cancer, which had certainly affected that
particular organ. She’s had some treatment for it. There was some scarring that’s typical with an advanced stage, but
there was some nice pink tissue as well. The treatment was slowing down the progress, fighting the fight. She might, with regular and
continued care, have beaten it back.”

“The incision—does it match the others?”

“It’s clean and it’s perfect. He wasn’t in a hurry when he cut. In my opinion,
it’s the same pair of hands. But the rest doesn’t match. There wasn’t any pride in this one, and she
wasn’t going to die. She had a good shot of living another ten years, maybe more.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

She sat back, closed her eyes to help all the new data shift through her mind. And opened them again to see
Webster in her doorway.

“Sorry to disturb your nap.”

“What do you want, Webster? You keep showing up, I’m going to have to call my
advocate.”

“Wouldn’t be a bad idea. You got another complaint against you.”

“It’s bogus. Have you run the voice prints?” The temper she’d managed to
lock away beat viciously for freedom. “Goddamn it, Webster, you know me. I don’t make crank calls.”

She pushed herself out of her chair. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized just how much rage
she’d been chaining down. It roared through her, ripped at her throat until,
for lack of something
better, she grabbed an empty coffee mug off her desk and heaved it against the wall.

Webster stood, lips pursed, nodded toward the shards. “Feel better?”

“Some, yeah,” she replied.

“We’ll be running the voice prints, Dallas, and I don’t expect them to match. I
do
know you. You’re a direct, in-the-face kind of woman. Wimpy ’link threats aren’t your style. But
you’ve got a problem with her, and don’t minimize it. She’s screaming about your treatment of her on the
crime scene this morning.”

“It’s on record. You screen it, then talk to me.”

“I’m going to,” he said wearily. “I’m going through channels on this,
step by step, because it’ll work better for you. Now I see you’ve ordered a search and scan on her. That
doesn’t look good.”

“It applies to a case. It’s not personal. I ordered one on Trueheart, too.”

“Why?”

Her eyes went flat and cool. “I can’t answer that. IAB has nothing to do with my dead files,
and I’ve been ordered to keep all data pertaining on a need-to-know. I’m Code Five per Whitney’s
orders.”

“You’re just going to make this harder on yourself.”

“I’m doing my job, Webster.”

“I’m doing mine, Dallas. Fucking A,” he muttered, and jammed his hands in his
pockets. “Bowers just went to the media.”

“About me? For Christ’s sake.”

“It was quite a little rant. She’s claiming departmental cover-up, all kinds of happy shit. Your
name tends to bump ratings, and this story’s going to be all over the screen by dinnertime.”

“There is no story.”

“You are the story,” Webster corrected. “Hotshot homicide cop, the cop who took
down one of the country’s top politicians a year ago. The cop who married the richest son of a bitch on or off
planet—who also happens to have a very shadowy past. You’re ratings, Dallas, and
one way or
the other, the media’s going to run with this.”