The In Death Collection 06-10 (13 page)

“I liked it.” The hands she held to his face slid around to link behind his neck. Her body bumped his. “It was . . . sexy.”

“Was it, now?” His hands roamed down, cupped her bottom. “Well, Eve, me darling, if you’re after—” His gaze flicked over her shoulder, and the amusement in them deepened. “Good morning, Peabody.” Eve jerked, then swore when Roarke held her firmly in place. “Lovely day.”

“Yes, it . . . I beg your pardon. Sir,” she added lamely when Eve scorched her with a look. “You said eight sharp, and there was nobody downstairs so I just came up and . . . here I am. And, ah, McNab is—”

“Right behind her.” Leading with a grin, McNab stepped into view. “Reporting for duty, Lieutenant, and may I say that your house is . . . Holy Mother of God.”

His eyes went so huge, so bright, that Eve reached instinctively for her weapon as he rushed in.

“Would you look at this setup? Talk about sexy. You must be Roarke.” He grabbed Roarke’s hand and pumped it enthusiastically. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I work on one of your 2000MTSs in EDD. What a honey. We’re crying for the 5000, but the budget, well, it sucks. I’m rebuilding an old multimedia unit at home—the Platinum 50? That baby rocks. Is that a Galactic MTS?”

“I believe it is,” Roarke murmured, cocking a brow at Eve as McNab rushed over to drool on the communication system.

“McNab, get a grip on yourself,” Eve ordered.

“Yes, sir, but this is ice.” His voice quivered. “This is
a goddamn glacier. How many simultaneous tasks will it perform?”

“It’s capable of three hundred simultaneous functions.” Roarke wandered over, more to prevent McNab from playing with his equipment than to give a tour. “I’ve had it up to nearly that without any glitches.”

“What a time to be alive. Your R and D division must be paradise.”

“You can put in an application,” Eve said dryly. “Since if you don’t get your ass in there and deal with my unit, you won’t have one in EDD.”

“I’m going. You really ought to talk her into upgrading her home unit,” he told Roarke. “And that thing she works on at Central. It’s a supreme junker.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He smiled as McNab sauntered out. “Interesting associates you have, Lieutenant.”

“If Feeney doesn’t get back soon, I’m going to shoot myself. I’m going to keep an eye on him.”

“Peabody,” Roarke said quietly before she could follow Eve out. “A moment.” He stepped closer, satisfied when he heard Eve arguing with McNab in the adjoining room. “I’m in your debt.”

She looked him straight in the eye. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. The lieutenant, and the department, is grateful for your assistance in our investigation.”

Touched, Roarke took her hand, brought it to his lips. “Peabody, you are a jewel.”

She flushed, and her stomach fluttered pleasantly. “Yeah, well, ah . . . you were an only child, right?”

“Yes.”

“Figures. I’d better go keep Dallas from pounding on McNab. Doesn’t look good on interdepartmental memos.”

She’d barely turned when Eve’s ’link beeped—one long, two short.

“Okay.” McNab began to toy with controls on a small,
portable trace unit. “That’s coming into your downtown office—bypassing main control. It’s him, yeah, it’s him. She’s jammed solid.”

“Unjam it,” Eve snapped. “Fast.” She reached for the ’link. “Block video,” she ordered. “Homicide. Dallas.”

“You were quick.” The voice flowed out, a hint of charm, a wealth of amusement. “Dear old Shawn wasn’t even cold when you found him. I’m so impressed.”

“I’ll be quicker next time.”

“If God wills it. I’m enjoying the competition, Lieutenant. And I’m coming to admire your strength of purpose. So much so that I’ve already begun the next stage. Are you up for the challenge?”

“Why don’t you play with me directly. Take me on, asshole, and let’s see who wins.”

“I follow the plan given me by a higher power.”

“It’s just a sick game to you. God has nothing to do with it.”

“I am the chosen.” He took a long breath. “I hoped you would see, I’ve wanted you to see, but your eyes are blinded to that because you’ve accepted worldly acclaim and responsibilities over the spiritual.”

She stared holes into McNab as he muttered under his breath and finessed dials. “Funny, I didn’t see anything spiritual in the way you slaughtered those two men. I’ve got one for you. From Romans, chapter two verse three. ‘Do you suppose, O man, that when you judge those who do such things and yet do them yourself, you will escape the judgment of God?” ’

“You would dare use His word against me? I am the angel of His justice, and the sword of His fury. Born and bred to deliver His verdict. Why do you refuse to see, to acknowledge?”

“I see exactly what you are.”

“One day you’ll kneel before me and weep tears of
blood. You’ll know the grief and despair only a woman can know.”

Eve glanced at McNab, who was hunched over his equipment and swearing under his breath. “You think you can get to Roarke? You overestimate yourself. He’ll flick you off like a gnat. We’ve already had some good laughs over it.”

“I can rip out his heart any time I please.” The voice had changed. There was fury in it but the fury was nearly a whine.

“Prove it—he’ll meet you. Name the spot.”

There was silence for a long moment. “You think you can draw me out that way? Another Eve offering forbidden fruit? I’m not the sheep but the shepherd. I have accepted the task, I hold the staff.”

The voice wasn’t quite controlled. No, Eve thought, it was fighting for control. Temper and ego. Those were her keys inside him.

“I think you’re too much of a coward to risk it. You’re a sick, pathetic coward who probably can’t get it up unless he uses both hands.”

“Bitch, cop whore. I know what women of your kind do to a man. ‘For a harlot may be hired for a loaf of bread, but an adulteress stalks a man’s very life.” ’

“I’m getting something,” McNab whispered. “I’m getting it. Keep him talking.”

“I wasn’t offering you sex. I don’t think you’d be very good at it.”

“The harlot did. She offered her honor for her life. But God ordered her execution. His will be done.”

He has another one
was all Eve could think. She may already be too late. “You’re boring me, pal. Your riddles are boring me. Why don’t we just go to the main match, you and me, and see what shakes down?”

“There will be nine before it is accomplished.” His
voice grew stronger, like an evangelist’s saving souls. “A novena of vengeance. It’s not your time, but hers. Another riddle, Lieutenant, for your petty and secular mind: Pretty girls grow into pretty women, but once a whore, always a whore. They come running when the price is right. You’ll find this one in the west, in the year of her crime. How long she breathes depends on her—and you, Lieutenant. But do you really want to save a whore who once spread her legs for the man you spread them for? Your move,” he said and ended transmission.

“He’s bouncing the transmission all over hell and back. Goddamn it.” McNab shoved at his hair and flexed his fingers. “Got him on Orion, into Stockholm, up into Vegas Two, and through Sydney for Christ’s sake. I can’t pin him. He’s got me outequipped.”

“He’s in New York,” Roarke said. “The rest is smoke.”

“Yeah, well, it’s damn good smoke.”

Eve ignored McNab and concentrated on Roarke. His face was pale and set, his eyes icily blue. “You know who he has.”

“Yes. Jennie. Jennie O’Leary. I just spoke with her two days ago. She was once a barmaid in Dublin and now runs a B and B in Wexford.”

“Is that in the west of Ireland?” Even as Roarke shook his head, she was rising, skimming her fingers through her hair. “He can’t want us to go to Ireland. That can’t be right. He’s got her here, he wants us here. I don’t have any authority in Ireland, and he wants me in charge.”

“The West Side,” Peabody suggested.

“Yeah, that would fit. The West Side—in the year of her crime,” she added, looking at Roarke.

“Forty-three. Twenty forty-three.”

“West Forty-third then. That’s where we start. Let’s move, Peabody.”

“I’m going with you.” Roarke laid a hand on Eve’s arm
before she could protest. “I have to. McNab, call this number.” He turned long enough to scrawl a ’link series onto a card. “Ask for Nibb. Tell him to have a 60K Track and Monitor unit and a 7500MTS sent over, along with his best tech to install it here in my wife’s office.”

“There’s no 60K T and M,” McNab objected.

“There will be in about six months. We have some test units.”

“Holy shit, 60K.” McNab nearly shuddered with delight. “I don’t need a tech. I can handle it.”

“Have him send one anyway. Tell him I want it up and running by noon.”

When he was alone, McNab looked at the card and sighed. “Money doesn’t just talk. It sings.”

Eve got behind the wheel and took off down the drive the minute the doors were shut. “Peabody, run all the flops and lc nests on West Forty-third.”

“Licensed companions? Oh, I get it.” She pulled out her personal palm computer and got to work.

“He wants her to die in a whore’s surroundings—my guess is the sleazier the better. Roarke, what do you own on West Forty-third that fits the bill?”

Another time he would have made a joke of that. He took out his own ppc and requested the data. “I own two buildings on West Forty-three. One is a restaurant with apartments above—single-family units, a hundred percent occupancy. The other is a small hotel with a public bar, projected to be refurbished.”

“Name?”

“The West Side.”

“Peabody?” Eve cut over to Seventh and headed downtown. She nipped through a red light and ignored the blast of horns and pedestrian curses. “Peabody?” she repeated.

“Working on it. Here. The West Side—that’s 522 West
Forty-third. Approved for on-site alcohol consumption, private smoking booths. Attached hotel licensed companion approved. Former owner, J. P. Felix, arrested January 2058. Violation of Codes 752, 821. Operating live sex acts without a license. Operating gambling establishment without a license. Property confiscated by City of New York and auctioned September 2058. Purchased by Roarke Industries, and currently up to code.”

“Five twenty-two,” Eve muttered as she winged onto Forty-third. “Do you know the setup here, Roarke?”

“No.” In his mind he could see Jennie as he’d once known her. Pretty and bright and laughing. “One of my acquisitions staff viewed and bid on the property. I’ve only seen the paperwork.”

He looked out the window as a young boy set up a three-card monte game while his adolescent partner scanned for cops and nuisance droids. He hoped they made a killing.

“I have one of my architects working up a plan for remodeling,” he continued. “I haven’t seen them either.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Eve jerked the car to a stop, double parking in front of 522. She flipped on the NYPSD blinker, which helped her chances of finding her vehicle in one piece when she came back. “We’ll check at the front desk, see what the clerk can tell us.”

She bypassed the bar, noted grimly that the security plate on the hotel door was broken. The lobby was dim, with a single pathetic plant going from green to sickly yellow in the corner. The thick safety glass that caged in the desk was scratched and pitted. The access door was wide open. The droid on duty was out of operation.

It was easy to see why, as its body was slumped in a chair and its head sat on the counter.

“Goddamn it. He’s been here. Maybe he’s still here.” She pulled out her weapon. “We take a floor at a time, knock on doors. Anybody doesn’t answer, we go in.”

Roarke opened a drawer under the droid’s head. “Master code.” He held up the thin card. “It’ll make it easier.”

“Good. Use the stairs.”

Nearly every room on the first floor was empty. They found one groggy-eyed lc sleeping off a long night. She’d heard and seen nothing, and made her displeasure at being roused by cops obvious. On the second floor they found the remnants of a wild party, including a fistful of illegals scattered over the floor like abandoned toys.

On the graffiti-strewn stairway heading toward three, they found the child.

He was perhaps eight, thin and pale, with his toes poking out of his ragged sneakers. There was a fresh bruise under his right eye, and a scruffy gray kitten in his lap.

“Are you Dallas?” he wanted to know.

“Yeah. Why?”

“The man said I should wait for you. He gave me a two-dollar credit to wait.”

Her heart picked up rhythm as she crouched down. The aroma there told her the kid hadn’t seen bathwater in a number of days. “What man?”

“The guy who told me to wait. He said how you’d give me another two if I did, and I told you the thing.”

“What thing?”

His eyes scanned her face slyly. “He said how you’d give me another two.”

“Sure, okay.” Eve dug in her pocket, made certain to keep her tone light, her smile easy. “So, what’s the thing?” she asked as the boy took the credit and fisted it in his grubby hand.