Rapture in Death

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Eve paced the soft, pretty carpet in Dr. Mira's office, hands jammed in her pockets, head lowered like a bull preparing for the charge.

"I don't get it. How can his profile not fit? I've got him cold on the lesser charges. The little prick's been playing with people's brains, reveling in it."

"It isn't a matter of fitting, Eve. It's a matter of probabilities."

Patient, calm, Mira sat in her comfy, body-molding chair and sipped jasmine tea. She needed it, she mused. The air was foaming with Eve's frustration and energy.

"You have his confession and the evidence that he has been experimenting with individualized brain pattern influence. And I quite agree he has a lot to answer for. But as to coercion to self-termination, I can't, in any decisive manner, corroborate your suspicions through my evaluation."

"Well, that's just great." She spun on her heel. Reeanna's treatment and the hour's nap had restored her. If anything, her color was high, her eyes overbright. "Without your corroboration, Whitney's not going to buy the package, which means the PA won't buy it."

"I can't adjust my report to suit you, Eve."

"Who's asking you to?" Eve threw up her hands, then dug them into her pockets. "What doesn't fit, for Christ's sake? The man's got a God complex any idiot before vision reconstruction surgery could spot."

"I agree that his personality pattern leans toward an excess of ego and his temperament has a high caliber of the artiste under siege." Mira sighed. "I wish you'd sit down. You're making me tired."

Eve dropped into a chair, scowled. "There, I'm sitting. Explain."

Mira had to smile. The sheer drive and unrelenting focus was admirable. "Do you know, Eve, I can never understand why impatience is so attractive on you. And how, with such a high volume of it, you still manage to be thorough in your work."

"I'm not here for analysis, Doctor."

"I know. I only wish I could convince you to agree to regular sessions. But that's another subject, for another time. You have my report, but to summarize my findings, the subject is egocentric, self-congratulatory, and one who habitually rationalizes his antisocial behavior as art. He's also brilliant."

Dr. Mira signed a little, shook her head. "A truly fine mind. He was nearly off the scale in the standard Trislow and Secour tests."

"Good for him," Eve muttered. "Let's put his brain on disc and give him a few suggestions."

"Your reaction is understandable," Mira said mildly. "Human nature is resistant to any sort of mind control. Addicts rationalize by deluding themselves that they're in control." She rolled her shoulders. "In any case, the subject has an admirable, even astonishing skill for visualization and logic. He's also fully aware, and smug if you will, about those skills. Under the surface charm, he is – to use your unscientific term – a prick. But I cannot, in good conscience, label him a murderer."

"I'm not worried about your conscience." Eve set her teeth. "He's able to design and operate equipment that is capable of influencing behavior in targeted individuals. I have four dead bodies whose minds I believe – no, I know – were influenced to self-termination."

"And logically, there should be a connection." Mira sat back, reached over, and programmed tea for Eve. "But you don't have a sociopath in holding, Eve." She passed Eve a fragrant, steaming cup they both knew she didn't want. "As there is, of yet, no clear motive for these deaths, and if they were indeed coerced, it's my considered opinion that it's a sociopath who is responsible."

"So what separates him?"

"He likes people," Mira said simply, "and wants, quite desperately, to be liked and admired by them. Manipulative, yes, but he believes he's created a great boon to humankind. One he'll make a profit on, certainly."

"So, maybe he just got carried away." Isn't that what he called his use of Roarke the night before? Eve thought. He'd just gotten carried away. "And maybe he isn't as much in control of his equipment as he thinks."

"That's possible. From another angle, Jess enjoys his work; he needs to be a party to the results of it. His ego requires that he see, experience at least a part of what he's caused."

He wasn't in the damn closet with us, Eve thought, but was afraid she understood Mira's meaning: the way Jess had looked for her, at her when they'd come back to the party, the way he'd smiled. "This isn't what I want to hear."

"I know that. Listen to me." Mira set her cup aside. "This man is a child, an emotionally stunted savant. His vision and his music are more real to him, certainly more important than people, but he doesn't discount people. Overall, I simply find no evidence that he would risk his freedom and his freedom of expression to kill."

Eve sipped tea out of reflex rather than desire. "If he had a partner?" she speculated, thinking of Feeney's theory.

"It's possible. He wouldn't be a man who would happily share his accomplishments. Still, he has a great need for both adulation and financial success. It might be possible, if he found himself in need of assistance on some level of his design, he entered into a partnership."

"Then why didn't he roll over?" Eve shook her head. "He's a coward; he'd have rolled. No way he'd take the heat for this alone." She sipped again, letting her thoughts play out. "What if he were genetically imprinted toward sociopathic behavior? He's intelligent, canny enough to mask it, but it's simply part of his makeup."

"Branded at conception?" Mira nearly sniffed. "I don't subscribe to that school. Upbringing, environment, education, choices both moral and immoral form us into what we are. We are not born monsters or saints."

"But there are experts in the field who believe we are." And she had one, Eve mused, at her disposal.

Mira read her easily enough and couldn't prevent the prick to her pride. "If you wish to consult with Dr. Ott on this matter, it's your privilege. I'm sure she'd be thrilled."

Eve wasn't sure whether to wince or smile. Mira very rarely sounded testy. "That wasn't meant as an insult to your skills, Doctor. I need a hammer here; you can't provide it."

"Let me tell you what I think about the branding at birth issue, Lieutenant. It's a cop-out, plain and simple. It's a crutch. I couldn't help setting fire to that building and burning hundreds of people alive. I was born an arsonist. I couldn't stop myself from battering that old woman to death for her handful of credits. My mother was a thief."

It quite simply infuriated her to think of that ploy being used to blot out responsibility – and on the other side to scar those who were defenseless against the monsters who bore them.

"It excuses us from humanity," she continued, "from morality, from right and wrong. We can say we were marked in the womb and never had a chance." She angled her head. "You of all people should know better."

"This isn't about me." Eve set her cup down with a snap. "It isn't about where I came from or what I made myself. It's about four people, that I'm aware of, who weren't given a choice. And someone has to answer for that."

"One thing," Mira added as Eve rose. "Are you focused on this man because of personal insults to you and those you love, or because of the dead you represent?"

"Maybe it's both," Eve admitted after a moment.

She didn't contact Reeanna, not yet. She wanted a little time to let it stew in her mind. And she was delayed by finding Nadine Furst in her office.

"How'd you get past desk security?" Eve demanded.

"Oh, I have my ways." Nadine swung her leg, beamed a friendly smile. "And most of the cops around here know you and I have a history."

"What do you want?"

"I wouldn't say no to a cup of coffee."

Grudgingly, Eve turned to the AutoChef, pumped up two cups. "Make it fast, Nadine. Crime is rampant in our city."

"And that keeps us both in business. What did you get called out on last night, Dallas?"

"Excuse me?"

"Come on. I was at the party. Mavis was terrific, by the way. First you and Roarke take off." She sipped delicately. "It didn't take a sharp reporter like me to get an inkling of what that was about." She wiggled her brows, chuckling when Eve simply stared. "But your sex life isn't news – at least on my beat."

"We were running out of shrimp patties. We ran down to the kitchen and made some up. It would have been so embarrassing."

"Yeah, yeah." Nadine waved that away and concentrated on her coffee. Even in the upper echelons of Channel 75 they rarely had access to such potent brew. "Then I notice, being the keen observer that I am, that you sweep Jess Barrow off and out at the end of the set. Never came back. Either of you."

"We're having a mad, illicit affair," Eve said dryly. "You may want to turn that over to the gossip desk."

"And I'm boinking a one-armed sex droid."

"You always were an explorer."

"Actually, there was this unit once… but I digress. Roarke, in his usual charming fashion, manages to move the lingering guests along, herds the hangers-on into the recreation center – great hologram deck, by the way – and gives your regrets. Duty calls?" Nadine angled her head. "Funny. Nothing shows on my cop scanner that would have pulled our ace homicide detective out at that time of night."

"Not everything goes out on the scanner, Nadine. And I'm just a soldier. I go when and where I'm told."

"Sell it to someone else. I know how tight you are with Mavis. Nothing but top level would have pulled you away at her big moment." She leaned forward. "Where's Jess Barrow, Dallas? And what the hell has he done?"

"I don't have anything to give you, Nadine."

"Come on, Dallas, you know me. I'll hold it down until I get the go-ahead. Who'd he kill?"

"Switch the channel," Eve advised, then pulled out her communicator when it beeped. "Display only, no audio."

Quickly, she scanned the transmission from Peabody, manually requested a meeting, including Feeney, in twenty minutes. She set the communicator on the desk, turned back to the AutoChef to see if there were any soy chips available. She needed something to sop up the caffeine.

"I've got work, Nadine," Eve continued, when she discovered she had nothing but an irradiated egg sandwich in stock. "And nothing to bump up your ratings."

"You're holding out on me. I know you've got Jess in custody. I've got sources in Holding."

Annoyed, Eve turned back. Holding was innately ripe with leaks. "I can't help you."

"Are you charging him?"

"The charges are not for broadcast at this time."

"Damn it, Dallas."

"I'm on the edge here," Eve snapped. "And it could go either way. Don't push me. If and when I'm free to speak to the media on the matter, you'll be the first. You'll have to be satisfied with that."

"You mean I have to be satisfied with nothing." Nadine rose. "You're got something big, or you wouldn't be so snotty about it. I'm only asking for a – "

She broke off as Mavis burst in. "Jesus, Dallas, Jesus. How could you arrest Jess? What are you doing?"

"Mavis, damn it." She could visualize Nadine's reporter's ears growing longer and sharper. "Sit," she demanded, stabbing a finger at a chair, then at Nadine. "You, out."

"Have a heart, Dallas." Nadine attached herself to Mavis. "Can't you see how upset she is? Let me get you some coffee, Mavis."

"I said out, and I mean it." At her wit's end, Eve rubbed her hands over her face. "Take off, Nadine, or I'll put you on the blackout list."

As a threat, it had punch. The blackout list meant there wouldn't be a cop in the homicide division who'd give Nadine the right time, much less a story lead. "Okay, fine. But I'm not dropping this." There were other ways to dig, she thought, and other tools to dig with. She snatched up her bag, gave Eve one last bitter look, then flounced out.

"How could you?" Mavis demanded. "Dallas, how could you do this?"

To insure some level of privacy, Eve shut the door. Her headache had come full circle and was now gleefully throbbing behind her eyes. "Mavis, this is my job here."

"Your job?" Her eyes were laser blue today, and red-rimmed from weeping. It was touching the way they matched the cobalt streaks in her scarlet hair. "What about my career? I finally get the break I've been waiting for, working for, and you toss my partner into a cage. And for what?" Her voice hitched. "Because he came on to you and pissed Roarke off."

"What?" Her mouth fell open, worked silently before she could get her tongue around words. "Where the hell did you get that?"

"I just got off the 'link with Jess. He's devastated. I can't believe you'd play this way, Dallas." Her eyes began to leak again. "I know Roarke's premiere with you, but we've got history."

At that moment, with Mavis noisily weeping into her hands, Eve could have cheerfully strangled Jess Barrow. "Yeah, we've got history, and you should know I don't play that way. I don't toss someone in a cage because I find them a personal annoyance. Would you sit down?"

"I don't need to sit." She wailed it, made Eve wince as the sound acted as the dull point of an edgy knife on her brain.

"Well, I do." She dropped into a chair. How much could she safely tell a civilian without crossing the line? And how far over the line was she willing to go? She looked at Mavis again, sighed. As far as it took. "Jess is the prime suspect in four deaths."

"What? What bend did you go around since last night? Jess wouldn't – "

"Be quiet," Eve snapped. "I haven't got him solid on that yet, but I'm working on it. I do, however, have him on other charges. Serious charges. Now, if you'd stop blubbering and sit the hell down, I'll tell you what I can."

"You didn't even stay and watch my whole act." Mavis managed to fall into a chair, but she didn't manage to stop blubbering.

"Oh, Mavis, I'm, sorry." Eve dragged a hand through her hair. She was lousy with weepers. "I couldn't – there was nothing I could do. Mavis, Jess is into mind control."

"Huh?" It was such a wild statement coming from the most grounded person she knew that Mavis stopped crying long enough to sniffle and gape. "Huh?"

"He's developed a program that accesses brain wave patterns and influences behavior. And he's used it on me, on Roarke, and on you."

"On me? No, he didn't. Get genuine here, Dallas, this is too Frankenstein. Jess isn't a mad scientist. He's a musician."

"He's an engineer, a musicologist, and a prick." Eve took a deep breath, then related as much as she felt was necessary. As she spoke, Mavis's tears dried up, hardening her eyes. Her bottom lip quivered once, then thinned.

"He used me to get to you, to get to Roarke. I was just a spring. Then once I'd bounced him to you, he fucked with your mind."

"This is not your fault. Stop it," Eve ordered when Mavis's eyes started to shimmer again. "I mean it. I'm tired, I'm pressed, and my head is about to explode. I don't need this soggy routine from you right now. It's not your fault. You were used, and so was I. He was hoping for Roarke's backing on his project. It doesn't make me less of a cop or you less of a performer. You're good, and you got better. He knew you could, and that's why he used you. He's too damn arrogant about his talent to have linked himself up with a dud. He wanted somebody who could shine. And you did."

Mavis swiped a hand under her nose. "Really?"

It was that one word delivered with such shaky hope that made Eve realize how far Mavis's ego had sunk. "Yeah, really. You were great, Mavis. That's solid."

"Okay." She wiped at her eyes. "I guess my feelings got hurt when you didn't hang for the act. Leonardo said I was being silly. You wouldn't have split if you hadn't had to split." She took a long breath that lifted her thin shoulders, then dropped them again. "Then Jess, when he called, he laid all this stuff on me. I shouldn't have bought into it."

"It doesn't matter. We'll smooth out the rest later. I'm pressed here, Mavis. I don't have much time to wrap this up."

"You think he killed people?"

"I have to find out." She looked over at the knock on her door. Peabody stepped in, hesitated.

"Sorry, Lieutenant. Should I wait outside?"

"No, I'm going." Mavis sniffled, rose, sent Eve a watery smile. "Sorry about the flood and everything."

"We'll mop it up. I'll talk to you when I can. Don't worry about this."

Mavis nodded, and her lowered lashes concealed the quick flare in her eyes. She intended to do more than worry.

"Everything all right here, Lieutenant?" Peabody asked when Mavis left them alone.

"Actually, Peabody, everything's fucked." Eve sat, tried to drill holes in her temples with her fingers to release the pressure. "Mira doesn't think our boy has the personality profile for murder. I've insulted her because I'm going for another consultant. Nadine Furst is sniffing too close to the center, and I've just broken Mavis's heart and shattered her ego.

Peabody waited a beat. "Well, other than that, how are things?"

"Cute." But it did prod a reluctant smile. "Damn, give me a nice clear murder any day over this physiological crap."

"Those were the good old days, all right." Peabody shifted to make room as Feeney stepped in. "Well, the gang's all here."

"Let's get to work. Status?" Eve asked Feeney.

"Sweepers found more discs at the suspect's studio. So far, no matches on victims. He kept a log of his work." Uncomfortable, Feeney shifted. Jess had been very explicit in his speculations on results, including the sexual nudge he'd given Eve and Roarke. "He names names, times, ah, suggestions. There's no mention of any of the four dead. I've been through his communications system. No transmissions to or from any of the victims."

"Well, that's dandy."

Feeney shifted his feet again, and his color fluctuated into a blush. "I've sealed the work log for your eyes only."

Her brows knit. "Why?"

"He, ah, talks about you a lot. On a personal level." He focused his eyes an inch over Eve's head. "Again, he's very explicit in his speculations."

"Yeah, he made it clear he was overly interested in my head."

"He isn't just interested in that part of your anatomy." Feeney puffed out his cheeks, blew the air out. "He considered it would be an entertaining experiment to attempt to ah…"

"What?"

"Influence your behavior toward him… in a sexual manner."

Eve let out a snort. It wasn't just the words, but Feeney's stiffly formal delivery. "He figured he could use his toy to get me into the sack? Great. We can lay another charge on him. Intent to sexually molest."

"Did he say anything about me?" Peabody wanted to know and received a glare from Eve.

"That's sick, Officer."

"Just wondering."

"We're adding to his cage time," Eve continued, "but we're not pinning him on the big one. And Mira's profile is going to work against us."

"Lieutenant." Peabody sucked in her breath and took the chance. "Have you considered that she's right? That's he's not responsible?"

"Yeah, I have. And that scares the hell out of me. If she's right, there's someone else out there with a brain toy, and we're not even close. So we all better hope we've got our man safely locked away."

"Speaking of our man," Feeney broke in. "You better know he's lawyered himself."

"I figured he would. Anybody we know?"

"Leanore Bastwick."

"Well, hell. Small world."

"She wants to make points off of you, Dallas." Feeney took out his bag of nuts, offered them to Peabody. "She's raring to go. Wants to set up a media conference. Word is she took him on pro bono, just for the shot at you, and the media coverage this will get once it hits."

"She can take her shot. We can block the press conference for twenty-four hours. We'd better solidify before then."

"I pulled a thread loose," Peabody told her. "It might unravel more with some tugging. Mathias did indeed attend MIT for two semesters. Unfortunately, his term there was three years after Jess did his at-home degree, but Jess used his alumni status to access data from their files. He also taught an E-class elective on musicology, which the university uploaded into their library curriculum. Mathias took the course during his last semester."

Eve felt a quick power surge. "That's something to tug on. Good work. It connects, finally. And maybe we've been looking in the wrong place. Pearly was the first known victim. What if he's the one who was connected with the others? It could be as simple as their common interest in electronic games."

"We looked there already."

"So look again," she told Peabody. "And look deeper. Not all the clubs and loops are above ground. If Mathias was used to help develop the system, he might have bragged about it. Those hobby hackers use all kinds of compu-names. Can you find his?"

"Eventually," Feeney agreed.

"You can contact Jack Carter. He was his roommate on Olympus. Maybe he can give you a boost on them. Peabody, contact Devane's son, see what you can shake out of him on this angle. I'll work on the Fitzhugh angle." She glanced at her watch. "I'll make a stop first. Maybe I can cut through some of the layers." She felt she was back to square one, looking for the connection. There had to be one, and she was going to have to involve Roarke to find it. She called him from her car 'link.

"Well, hello, Lieutenant. How was your nap?"

"Too short and too long ago. How long are you going to be in midtown?"

"Another few hours at any rate. Why?"

"I'm coming by. Now. Can you squeeze me in?"

He smiled. "Always."

"It's business," she said, and cut him off before she could smile back. Daring her auto-drive, she programmed destination, then used her 'link again. "Nadine."

Nadine angled her head, shot Eve a cold look. "Lieutenant."

"Nine a.m., my office."

"Should I bring a lawyer?"

"Bring your recorder. I'll give you a jump on tomorrow's press conference re Jess Barrow."

"What press conference?" The image and voice quality sharpened as Nadine went immediately to private, dragging headphones over her hair. "There's nothing on schedule."

"There will be. You want that jump, and you want the official report from the primary, be there at nine."

"What's the catch?"

"Senator Pearly. Get me everything. Not the official data, the quiet stuff. His hobbies, playgrounds. His underground connections."

"Pearly was clean as a church choir."

"You don't have to be dirty to play underground, you just have to be curious."

"And what makes you think I can get private data on a government official?"

"Because you're you, Nadine. Feed the data to my home unit, and I'll see you at nine hundred hours. You'll beat the pack by two hours easy. Think of those ratings."

"I'm thinking. Deal," she snapped and signed off.

When Eve was able to glide smoothly into the parking facility at Roarke's midtown office, she began to think more kindly toward vehicle maintenance. Her VIP space was waiting, locking its security shield the moment she shut down.

The elevator accepted her palm print and zoomed her up to the top floor in a quiet, dignified ride.

She'd never get used to it.

Roarke's personal assistant beamed at her, welcomed her home, welcomed her in, and escorted her through the plush outer offices, down the streamlined corridor, and into the elegant efficiency of Roarke's private office.

But he wasn't alone.

"Sorry." She struggled not to frown at Reeanna and William. "I'm interrupting."

"Not at all." Roarke walked over, kissed her lightly. "We're just finishing up."

"Your husband's quite the slave driver." William held out a hand to shake Eve's warmly. "If you hadn't come along, Reeanna and I would have to do without our dinner."

"That's William." Reeanna laughed. "He's either thinking of electronics or his stomach."

"Or you. Can you join us?" he asked Eve. "I thought we'd try the French place on the skyline level."

"Cops never eat." Eve tried to adjust herself to the easy social tone. "But thanks."

"You need regular fuel to help the healing process." Reeanna narrowed her eyes for a quick, professional survey. "Any pain?"

"Not much. I appreciate the personal service. And I wonder if I could speak to you for a few minutes on an official matter – if you have time after your meal."

"Of course." Curiosity flitted over her face. "Could I ask what it's about?"

"The possibility of doing a consult on a case I'm working on. If you're agreeable, I'd need to do it tomorrow, early."

"A consult on an actual human being? I'm there."

"Reeanna's weary of machines," William put in. "She's been making noises for weeks about going back into private practice."

"VR, holograms, autotronics." She rolled her beautiful eyes. "I long for flesh and blood. Roarke has us set up on the thirty-second level, west wing. I should be able to nudge William through a meal in an hour. Just meet me there."

"Thanks."

"Oh, and Roarke," Reeanna continued as she and William started toward the door. "We'd love to have that personal take on the new unit as soon as you can manage it."

"And she calls me a slave driver. Tonight, before I leave."

"Wonderful. Later, Eve."

"Food, Reeanna. I'm dreaming of coquille St. Jacques." William was laughing as he pulled her out of the door.

"I didn't mean to break up your meeting," Eve began.

"You didn't. And you've given me a breather before I have to dig into a mountain of status reports. I've had all the data on that VR unit you're concerned about transmitted. I've skimmed the surface, but I've found nothing out of line so far."

"That's something." She'd rest easier once she could eliminate that angle.

"William would be able to spot any problem quicker," he added. "But as he and Ree were in on the development, I didn't think you'd care to pass it by him."

"No. Let's keep it close."

"Reeanna was concerned about you. So am I."

"She gave me a going-over. She's good."

"Yes, she is." Still, he tipped Eve's face back with a fingertip. "You've got a headache."

"What's the point of illegal brain scans when you can already see into my head?" She closed her hand over his wrist before he could drop his arm. "I can't see into yours. It's annoying."

"I know." His lips curved as he pressed them to her brow. "I love you. Ridiculously."

"I didn't come here for this," she murmured when his arms wound around her.

"Take a minute anyway. I need it." He could feel the outline of the diamond around her neck, one she had worn first reluctantly, and now habitually. "That'll do it." He eased her back, pleased that she'd held on another moment. She so rarely held on. "What's on your mind, Lieutenant?"

"Peabody dug up a thin connection between Barrow and Mathias. I want to see if I can tighten it. How much trouble would it be to access underground transmissions, using MIT's on-line services as a starting point?"

His eyes lighted. "I love a challenge." He moved around the desk, engaged his unit, then slid open a hidden panel under it, flicked a switch manually.

"What's that?" Her teeth went on edge. "Is that a block system? Did you just tune out Compuguard?"

"That would be illegal, wouldn't it?" he said cheerfully. He reached over his shoulder to pat her hand. "Don't ask the question, Lieutenant, if you don't want to hear the answer. Now, what time period are you interested in, particularly?"

Scowling, she dug out her log, read off the dates of Mathias's attendance at MIT. "I'm looking for Mathias specifically. I don't know what line names he used yet. Feeney's getting them."

"Oh, I think I can find them for you. Why don't you see about ordering us a meal? No reason to go hungry."

"Coquille St. Jacques?" she said dryly.

"Steak. Rare." He slid out a keyboard and began to work manually.