Survivor in Death

21

WITH A FROWN ON HER FACE, EVE SURVEYED Roarke's computer lab. Several of the units were up and running, several of the screens had words, codes, strange symbols that might as well have been hieroglyphics whizzing over them. Computerized voices intoned incomprehensible statements, questions, comments.

And the rumpled Feeney, the neon McNab, scooted around on wheeled chairs, somehow miraculously avoiding collision with work stations and each other, like a couple of kids in a strange, strange game.

Stepping into the room was, for her, like stepping into an alternate universe.

“Yo.” Feeney gave her a finger point, then tapped icons on a screen that slid up out of the counter. “Got something going.”

“Okay. I assume it's not Maximum Force 2200.”

“Hey.” McNab looked over. “You cruise MF?”

“No.” Well, maybe she'd played it a couple of times, but just to test her comp skills. “What's going?”

“What we've got over here is a diagnostic on the Swisher security system. We ran all the standards on it, stripped her down. Nice system, by the way.”

“We already know it was jammed, remote. Bypassed the failsafes and backups.”

“Yeah, yeah, but not how, not what they used. We're getting that. You work back from the system, code by code, signal by signal, and maybe you put together, code by code, signal by signal, the device that pulled it off.”

“They had to get it somewhere.” Eve nodded. “Even if they reconfigured, added flourishes, they had to get the basic device somewhere.”

“Yep. And what we got going over there is the security on the hospital lot where Jaynene Brenegan was taken out-and the system on the apartment where Karin Duberry was murdered. Hitting correlations. Gonna be the same device, or one configured the same way. When you get them, it'll help burn them.”

“Have you got room for one more deal?”

“Shoot.”

“I need you to alter my communicator. A fault, but nothing that I'd reasonably notice as a non-EDD cop. Just a blip, so that someone who's trying to monitor communications might get through, catch a transmission.”

“You want to leak data?”

“Once we get this set up, select our location, put the op together, I want them to be able to monitor my communicator. Maybe it's fuzzy, but they should get the details. Like the communicator's going bad on me. Like the shield's thinning out. It happens, right?”

“Yeah, but there's a default warning.”

“Wouldn't be the first time departmental equipment went bad. You should see my damn computer.”

“Still giving you grief?” McNab asked.

“It's holding. I haven't gotten any foreign porn when I ask for a file. Lately.”

“Hand it over.” Feeney held up his palm. “We'll play with it. You got your backup?”

“Yeah.” She pulled both out of her pocket. “Just dink with the one. Can you make it so the signal coming into it is still shielded? So they only get bits of what I transmit?”

“We'll get you covered.”

There were enough rooms in the house to billet a military battalion. It was risky tucking Webster away with Baxter, but she didn't want IAB strolling around her office. He wanted to observe, she thought, he could observe Baxter and Trueheart. Before rounding up Peabody, Eve slipped into her bedroom to make a private call.

“How about some more tit for tat?” she asked when Nadine came on-screen. “I need a spin, apparently. An incident last night-”

“Your air show through midtown?” Nadine gave a wicked laugh. “We got some extreme footage on that. Bought it off a tourist from Tokyo. It's aired twice this morning.”

“Great.”

“You're taking some heat on that? I've never known you to worry about a little sweat.”

“They've sicced IAB on me, and it could get in the way of the investigation. Trueheart was with me, and shit trickles even if you plug the dam. I'm advised to spin this around so it's the courageous cop in pursuit of kid killers. Risking life and limb to apprehend cop killers and protect the known universe.”

“Boy, that's killing you.” But Nadine angled her head. “That's what you were doing, wasn't it?”

“The point is this kind of thing doesn't reflect well on the department.”

“And the department will take a sacrifice, if deemed necessary.”

“It'll be Trueheart, Nadine. They'll give me a slap, maybe a smudge on my record, but if they have to roast somebody, it'll be him. He's more disposable. I put him on the line.”

“So you're asking me to spin the story so the crap doesn't clog up the momentum of your investigation, and so the cutie-pie doesn't get his tight little ass fried.”

“That's the idea. And in return-”

“No, don't tell me.” Nadine sat back, held up both hands. “Because it'll kill me to turn it down.”

“Look, Nadine, it's not that big a spin.”

“Obviously you didn't catch my pithy and insightful morning report. Spin's already spun. The cool-headed, nerveless Lieutenant Dallas and the young, dedicated Officer Trueheart, risking their lives in pursuit of the vicious killers of children and their fellow officers. Killers who discharge weapons with no thought to the welfare of innocent strangers-men, women, and children who live in or visit our great city. And so on.”

“Okay. You've got another IOU.”

“Slate's clear. This played better-and the vid showed the blasts coming out of that van. Most of the competition worked the same angle, but there's still some heat, some stirring of the urban terrorism pot and why aren't we safe walking the streets, in our own homes.”

“It's a good question. Could it be because a portion of society sucks?”

“Can I quote you? Better, how about a quick talking head while you repeat that?”

Eve considered. “How about you say, 'When contacted, Lieutenant Dallas stated that every member of the NYPSD will work diligently to identify and apprehend those responsible for the deaths of their fellow officers, for Grant, Keelie, and Coyle Swisher, for Inga Snood, for Linnie Dyson. We serve them, we serve New York. We serve Nixie Swisher because surviving the brutality that was brought into her home isn't enough. She deserves justice, and we'll get it for her.'“

“Good. Got it. As for the other IOU, toasting these bastards from my media vantage point? I'd be doing it now anyway. I'd be doing it for Knight and Preston. Both of their memorials are tomorrow.”

“I'll see you there.” Eve hesitated. “An unnamed source at Cop Central has confirmed that the abduction and murder of Meredith Newman has been connected to the recent home invasion and murder of five people, including two children, on the Upper West Side. Meredith Newman, a Child Protection Services caseworker, was abducted- fill in the rest.”

“Can I say Newman was assigned to the invasion survivor, nine year old Nixie Swisher?”

“Yes, get it out there. And that multiple premortem burns on Newman's body indicate she was tortured before her throat was cut in the same manner as the members of the Swisher household. Ms. Newman's body was discovered in an alley-”

“We've got all that.”

“Say it again. Say it again-her naked body, covered with electrical burns, with its throat slit, was discovered after being dumped in an alley. Witnesses saw a black FourStar van, forged New York license AAD-4613, exiting the alley moments before the body was discovered. Lieutenant Eve Dallas, primary, and Officer Troy Trueheart, acting as aide, encountered a van of this description when leaving the scene.”

“And pursued,” Nadine finished. “Which leads right back to the flight show. Good. Solid. Thanks. How many witnesses?”

One, Eve thought, and only on the taillights. But why quibble. “When contacted, Lieutenant Dallas would neither confirm nor deny the report.”

“A formal one-on-one would round this off sweet.”

“I'm cutting back on sweets. Later.”

Juggling plans in her head, Eve headed to her office, then swung toward Roarke's. She gave a quick knock, opened the door. And winced.

It was full of people. Or more accurately, it was full of Roarke and holos. His admin, Caro, sat in her tidy way, her hands folded in her lap. Two men in square, collarless suit jackets, and three women in similar conservative corporate gear studied yet another holo of some sort of elaborate development, complete with winding river and a sheer tower ringed with people glides.

“Sorry.” She started to back out, but Roarke lifted a hand.

“Ladies, gentlemen, my wife.”

They all looked over at her. She saw, clearly enough, the measuring of the females-and the reactions of puzzlement, even amusement. And she could understand it. There was Roarke, rangy and stunning in his dark suit, power like an aura around him.

And here she was, banged-up boots, hair she couldn't quite remember if she'd even finger-combed that morning, and a weapon harness over her shirt.

“We're just wrapping up,” he told Eve, then turned back to the group. “If you have any further questions, relay them through Caro. I want the changes discussed and implemented by this time tomorrow. Thank you. Caro, stay a moment.”

The holos, save Caro's, winked off. Caro rose. “Lieutenant Dallas. It's good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too.” Now, Eve thought, she'd have to make chatty talk. “Ah, how's Reva?”

“She's very well. She's moved back to the city.”

“Well, good. Tell her hi.”

Caro turned to Roarke. “You're conferencing again at eleven with the engineers on the project. And have a one o'clock with Yule Hiser that we've switched to 'link. Your two o'clock is Ava McCoy and her team. Then you're clear for your five o'clock. The Fitch Communications meeting is tentatively scheduled for nine p.m., via holo.”

“Thank you, Caro. Anything urgent, you know where to reach me.”

She nodded. “Lieutenant,” she said, and winked out.

“Who were the suits?” Eve asked.

“Architects. I'm still making some refinements on a new development on Olympus.”

“Six architects for one development.”

“A rather large and complex one-and that includes buildings, landscape, water, interiors… And you don't care.”

She felt a little pinch of guilt, right between the shoulder blades. “Not much, but that's not the same as not being interested. Which I am, in a supportive kind of way.”

He chuckled. “What do you need?”

Now annoyance slapped over the guilt. “Just because I said I was interested and supportive doesn't mean I need something from you.”

“It doesn't, no.” He leaned back on his desk. “But you came in here because you did. There's no need to feel guilty about it, or to start worrying that I'm carving off my own worktime to help with yours. I wouldn't if I didn't want to do it.”

“Well, how do you feel about giving me a building downtown?”

“Which would you like?”

This time she chuckled. “Showoff. Have you got something untenanted? Something we can secure and wire up within twenty-four?”

“I imagine we can come up with something. That's your trap. Why downtown?”

“Because I know they're based uptown. Because when this goes down, I want it as far away from the kid as I can make it and stay in the city. I need a place where I can post up to a dozen men inside, where I can place snipers and tech response in select locations. I need to make it look like a safe house-cop security on doors and windows. And I need to be able to lock the place down tight as soon as I have them inside.”

“I'll give you some possibilities by this afternoon. That soon enough?”

“Good. There's this other thing. I'll make it quick. You said Richard and Elizabeth were coming today.”

“Yes, at four. I'll take care of that.”

“Much as I'd like to let you, it's not right.” She didn't have to be told the meetings Caro had rattled off weren't all he had on the big, shiny plate of Roarke Industries. “I dumped her here, I've got to do my part in it. I figure you've dealt with their security.”

“It's done.”

“I'm bringing Mavis in.”

“Excuse me?”

“The kid's a big fan. She brightened up when she heard I knew Mavis, and before I knew it I'd said something about yeah, she could meet her. Anyway, it seems like if I had Mavis come in, Mira-we'd need Mira to give an opinion on the kid's reaction to the fostering-it would look more causal. Like we're having guests over.”

His communication system beeped and buzzed, lights signalling incoming data. She wondered how he stood all the interruptions. Of which, she knew, she was one.

“In the real world of good and evil, good doesn't have a party if they've got a reason to think evil might try to crash.”

He gave her an easy nod. “Thereby giving the impression that there's certainly no young girl evil might want to get its hands on around here.”

“It's sort of braining a lot of birds with one stone. Leonardo's in Milan or Paris or someplace over there.” She gestured vaguely in what might've been the direction of Europe. “So if I bring her in, it'd be best to keep her here. Just in case.”

“I'd say the more the merrier-and merrier it tends to be with Mavis around-but it's not quite the phrase that comes to mind with a houseful of cops.”

There came the guilt again, with a more enthusiastic pinch. “I'll get them all out as soon as I can.”

“Holding you to that. Oh, I caught your performance on a media Bash right before my meeting.”

“Yeah. Heard it got screen time.”

“Some impressive maneuvers, both air and ground. Still you're lucky you didn't splat that new police issue of yours into the face of a building.”

“I couldn't. I wreck another ride this soon, even with Peabody offering a variety of perverted, possibly illegal sexual favors, I'd be lucky to score an airboard out of Requisitions.”

“An offer of a variety of perverted, possibly illegal sexual favors would score you any vehicle you might like from me.”

“ Peabody doesn't need the incentive. She already wants to jump you.”

“Flattering. But I was actually thinking of you in regard to those favors. But I'm sure Peabody and I can work something out.”

“I'd hate to put her back in the hospital this soon. Catch you at four.”

With Peabody, Eve made a point of going back to every crime scene she attributed to Kirkendall. She stood on the sidewalk, studied the building where Judge Moss and his family had once lived. Another family lived in the pretty brownstone now.

Did they think about it? Talk about it? Entertain their friends with the horror story?

“Baxter and Trueheart recanvassed here,” Peabody commented. “Showed off the composite and the military ID photos. Nobody remembers seeing them around. Two years since,” she added. “It was a long shot.”

“He didn't go after the wife on this one. You could speculate that he was more focused in on the judge. Or that he opted to leave her alive, to suffer. But he knew the routine, so he'd watched them.” She turned a circle. “A lot of places around here a guy could rent or buy, settle in, stake out. Isenberry probably handled this end. Smarter. Original canvass probably interviewed her. We'll re-evaluate the reports, see if we see anything on that.”

She got back in the car, drove toward the Swisher's. “Property around here's a good investment. He likes good investments. Maybe he bought in somewhere near the Moss residence, held on to it, rents it out. He partners up with Master Lu for investment, for income. Why not do some real estate?”

“Vary your portfolio.”

“Let's tug that line. See if we can find a property bought after the trial, before the bomb. It may not lead us to him, but it builds evidence. When these bastards go to trial, I'm going to have them sewn in a titanium shroud. Goddamn it!” She punched the accelerator as the Swisher house came into view. “Look at those idiot kids.”

The trio-teenagers, at her guess-were huddled together at the police seal on the front entrance. Their lookout, a curvy little number in a black skin-suit and wrap shades, let out a shout and took off on a silver airboard.

Kids scattered, leaping solo or in tandem on other boards, plowing through shrubbery, onto the sidewalk, into the street between vehicles that squealed and honked.

Eve heard looney, loopy laughter as they whipped around the corner.

“You're not going after them?” Peabody asked when Eve zipped to the curb. “Squish them like bugs?”

“No. It's just as likely one of them will end up getting squished by a cab while I'm chasing them. Pricks.” She slammed out, jogged to the entrance to check the seal. “Tinkered with it, didn't get through far enough to set off the alarm. Slap on a fresh one anyway, Peabody. Asshole kids. What did they plan to do, break in and have a party in the death house? Why aren't they in school, or better yet in juvie?”

“Saturday.”

“What day?”

“Today's Saturday, Dallas. No school on the weekends.”

“There ought to be,” she said darkly. “There ought to be school twenty-four/seven for little disrespectful creeps like that. Give them a day out, all they do is cause trouble.”

“You'd have felt better if you'd gone after and squished them.”

“Yeah.” She let out a breath. “Next time.” She forced herself to set it aside. “Recanvass was zip here, too. But we know Isenberry used the paralegal to get inside, get close to the family. We know the killers walked away, headed down the block, not into a neighboring building. Still, we'll try the same investment angle here, too. They might have bought one, rented one, used it for stakeout previously.”

Her last stop was the hospital parking lot. “Not just a quick slice here. Multiple stab wounds, defensive wounds. She put up a fight, or tried to. Played with her some. Jab here, jab there. I think this was girl on girl. They let Isenberry do this one. Her file says she likes to mix it up. Clinton, he likes a silent kill-manual strangulation a specialty. Kirkendall let his brother take point there. But the other kills were his. Cold and clean. But everybody got bloody. You trust your comrades more when they get bloody along with you.”

“Easiest one to take here.” Peabody frowned at the lot, the health center. “You either hack in, get her schedule, or you hang around- who notices?-get a feel. Both, probably. You do it end of shift, late. And yeah, if it's another woman walking your way, you don't get the alarm bells. Little friendly nod, or Isenberry stops her, asks for directions. How do I get to the surgery wing? Vic turns, knife comes out. Sticks here, vie tries to block or run, gives her another jab. Works her back, away from the building. Some of the wounds were shallow, just nasty little sticks. Finishes her off. Rendezvous, and you're gone.”

Yeah, Eve thought, that was the way. “They'd have watched. Kirkendall and Clinton. Close enough for visual, or Isenberry wore a recorder. You're not part of the kill unless you see the kill. We find their base, we're going to find vids of every murder. They'd study them like Arena Ball players study the vid of a game. Looking for flaws, for moves, ways to improve.”

“Sick. Dallas, it's going on fifteen hundred.”

“And?”

“We're due to get Mavis at fifteen hundred.”

“Right. I got this buzz.” She rocked on her heels, studying the spot where Brenegan's body had been found years before. “I know we're close. We push the right buttons, we pull them in, and they're gone. They're smart, they're crafty, but they're vulnerable because they won't walk away until they're done. They'd rather fail than walk away without the mission complete.”

“It's hard to stop, change tracks, and deal with the other areas.”

“Yeah, it's a pisser all right. Let's go get Mavis.”

Eve had been to some of Mavis's concerts. She'd been backstage and watched the adoring fans lucky enough to gain entrance. But she'd never seen a nine-year-old girl rendered speechless by the mere sight of her friend.

Not that the sight couldn't render anyone incapable of speech. Mavis wore her hair in hundreds of ringlets, bright gold and shimmery green, that spilled around her face like some sort of electric mop. Her eyes were gold today as well, tipped with green lashes. She wore a deep purple calf-length coat, which she peeled off upon entering the house to reveal a crotch-length dress in swirls of purple and gold. Her green tights were accented with shiny knee and ankle bracelets and a pair of gold shoes with transparent heels filled with those same colorful swirls.

Her pregnancy had progressed far enough that her belly popped out of the swirls in a small, neat lump.

Her bracelets-knee, ankle, wrist-rang like bells as she danced across the floor toward a slack-jawed Nixie.

“Hi! I'm Mavis.”

Nixie only nodded, her head like a puppet's on a string.

“ Dallas says you like my music.”

At the next nod, Mavis grinned. “I thought maybe you'd like this.” Apparently there was a pocket somewhere in the dizzying swirls as Mavis drew out a disc. “It's my new vid, for 'Inside Out Over You.' It's not hitting until next month.”

“I can have it?”

“Sure. You want to watch it? Okay if we go plug it in, Dallas?”

“Go ahead.”

“This is the ult,” Nixie exclaimed. “The serious ult. Linnie and I…” She trailed off, stared hard at the disc. “Linnie's my best friend, and we watch your vids all the time. But she's…”

“I know.” Mavis's voice softened. “I'm really sorry. Dallas is my best friend. I'd feel so bad if anything happened to her. It would hurt for a long time. I guess I'd have to think about the fun we had together whenever I could, so it didn't hurt so much.”

She nodded. “You're having a baby. Can I touch it?”

“You bet. Sometimes it bumps around in there, and it feels really frosty.” Mavis laid her hand over Nixie's. “Gotta cook a while longer. In the new vid I've got this totally mag belly painting going on. Why don't you go plug the disc in. I'll come watch it with you.”

“Okay, thanks.” Nixie looked up at Eve. “You said you'd bring her, and you did. Thanks.”

When Nixie raced off to the parlor, Eve stepped up, laid a hand on Mavis's shoulder. “I appreciate this.”

“Poor kid. Man, makes you misty.” She laid a hand on her belly, blinked her emerald lashes. “Look, if I can give her a couple hours of fun, that's what it's all about. Hey! Bump!” She grabbed Eve's hand, slapped it to the side of her belly.

“Jesus, don't! Whoa!” She jerked when something kicked against her palm.

“Is that uptown or what?”

“Or what.”

But curiosity had her eyeing the ball of Mavis's belly as the little kicks continued. It was kind of… she wasn't sure. A happy little beat, and not nearly as creepy as she'd expected. “What the hell's it doing in there, dancing?”

“It's swimming and stretching and rolling. I'm so knocked up now its nostrils are opening, and he's got these little air sacs-”

Eve whipped her hand clear, tucked it safely behind her back as Mavis laughed. And her own hands gently caressed her belly as she looked toward the stairs. “Hi, Dr. Mira.”

“Mavis. I'd say you're glowing, but I've never known you otherwise. I will say you look wonderfully healthy.”

“Feeling TIT these days. Totally In Tune.”

“I didn't know you were already here,” Eve said.

“A few minutes before you. I've been upstairs speaking to Roarke. He'll be right down. Ms. Barrister, Mr. DeBlass, and their son have just been cleared through the gate.”

“I'll go keep Nixie entertained.” Mavis gave Eve a bolstering pat on the arm and swirled her way into the parlor. “Hit it, Nix!” she called out, and there was a blast of what could be called, in some cultures, music.

“I guess that's showtime,” Eve declared, and walked to the front door.