"I'm filing charges." Blood trickled out of Jacoby's mouth as he fumbled for his communicator.
"I wouldn't advise that, Agent. You came at my officer, a violent action, when her back was turned. She defended herself. That's on record." With a fierce grin, he patted his own lapel recorder. "Make that call and I'll have you up before your own disciplinary committee before your tongue stops bleeding. You're not just taking on my officer, you're taking me on, and my whole goddamn department. So back off before I see that what's left of your career is flushed down the toilet."
He held Jacoby's eyes another testing moment, signaled to Eve to go, then followed.
As they walked toward the elevator, Feeney examined his fingernails. "Shoulda followed through with a knee to the balls."
"I would have, but he doesn't have any." Then she sobered, straightened. "Commander, I apologize for – "
"Don't spoil it." He stepped into the elevator, rolled his shoulders. "I have to get out in the field more often. I forgot how much fun it could be. I want your observations and analysis of the scene on disc as soon as possible, Lieutenant. Run a probability on his still being in or near the city, and if that comes through positive, run one on where he might hole up. Contact – "
He broke off, looked down into her face. "You show admirable restraint, Dallas, in not telling me you know how to do your job."
"The thought never crossed my mind, sir." Since decking Jacoby had brightened her mood, she worked up a smile. "Hardly."
"Since you do know I'll let you get on with it." He walked off the elevator. "I have a number of calls to make. A number of ears to burn."
"He's revved up," Feeney murmured when Whitney left them.
"Is he?"
"Yeah. You didn't know him when he worked the streets. Got cold blood, Jack does. Heads'll be rolling by end of shift, and he won't have broken a sweat." Feeney pulled his bag of nuts from his pocket. "I'll gather up McNab. You taking this into Central?"
"For now." She pulled out her communicator, intending to tag Peabody when her aide stepped off the elevator across the wide lobby. "You're with me."
Eve waited until they were out the doors and inside her unit. "Report?"
"Kept to himself. Very polite, if aloof. Always perfectly dressed. Always alone. I talked to a dozen neighbors, and two guards, none had ever seen him with anyone. But, he had a server droid. One of the guards told me the Feebs carried out what was left of it. He claimed it looked like a self-destruct."
"Covered his ass there."
"A woman on the fifteenth floor, one of those society-type matrons, said she'd spoken to him occasionally in the lobby., and a number of times at the ballet and opera. You hit that one. She said he had season tickets to both, box seat, stage right. He always went solo."
"We'll put some men on that, but he's not going to risk it now, no matter how much he gets into that stuff. He'll know we've blown his cover in this building, talked to neighbors. He'll bypass his usual haunts, at least for the time being."
"I've gone to the opera with Charles a few times. I've been trying to pull it in, get a visual on that box. But it's not clicking. I could ask him. He goes a lot. Could have noticed."
Eve drummed her fingers on the wheel, weighed, considered and ruthlessly cut off a Rapid Cab. "Run it by him, but don't fill him in. We've got too many fingers in this pie already without adding another civilian."
"Speaking of pie," Peabody said, and looked longingly toward a corner glide-cart.
"It's not even noon. You can't be hungry."
"Can, too. I bet you didn't have breakfast. Missing the most essential meal of the day can make you cranky, and logy, and seriously affect your mental and emotional well-being. Studies – "
"Oh Christ!" Eve whipped to the curb, cut off yet another cab, then gave Peabody a steely glare. "You've got sixty seconds."
"Watch me rock."
She was out of the car like a laser flash, whipping out her badge to clear her path toward the scoop of soy fries her stomach was yearning for.
She popped back in the car, seconds to spare, and offered Eve a beaming smile and a second scoop of fries. The smile wobbled only slightly when Eve took the scoop and tucked it between her thighs.
"I didn't think you were hungry."
"Then why'd you buy me a scoop?"
"Just to be nice," Peabody said with some dignity as her hopes for two scoops – after all she wouldn't have felt right about letting them go to waste – were dashed. "I guess you want this, too."
"Yeah, thanks." Eve snagged the tube of Pepsi, plucked out some fries, and shot back into traffic. "Record on my collar." Eve gestured to it with her chin. "Upload onto hard drive and disc. Get me your knock-on-doors report within the hour, and contact Charles Monroe."
Peabody plucked off the recorder, slipped it onto her own jacket. "Yes, sir."
"You know more about girl stuff than I do. Scan the record, the segment in Yost's dressing room deal. Give me a rundown on the enhancements. If it's out of your scope, I'm going to pass it to Mavis. She knows everything."
"Anything above discount counter is out of my scope, enhancement-wise. I might recognize some of the brands though."
"Make another copy of that segment. I'll tag Mavis."
She finished the fries on the way up to her office, pitched the empty container, then closed herself in her office. She had one step to take before she hunkered down to paperwork, and she wanted to take it in private.
As an extra precaution, she used her personal palm-link.
Roarke answered on the second beep. "Hello, Lieutenant. How did it go?"
"It went. I got to deck Jacoby with no official flak coming down on me, so that's something."
"I hope you got it on record. I'd love to watch."
"Har. Actually I did, which is why I had to deck him, and why I'm calling. I got…" She trailed off as she managed to look beyond his face and recognized the room.
"What are you doing in there?" she demanded. "I told you I didn't want any data accessed on your unregistered."
"Who said I was accessing data for you?"
"Listen – "
"I do have other business. I have no intention of passing you data accessed in other than official and legal means."
He'd simply filter it through Feeney first.
"By the way, you've had the return transmission from The New Savoy. Confirmation of Yost's stay there. I've sent the pertinents to you. Now, what else can I do for you?"
She studied him through narrowed and suspicious eyes. "Are you lying?"
"About Yost's stay in London?"
"Don't be a wiseass. About what you're doing in that room right now."
"If I were, I'd simply compound it by lying again. I suppose you'll just have to trust me, won't you?" He smiled at her. "Now as much as I'd love to while away the day chatting with you, darling, I do have work. What do you want?"
"All right." She hissed out a breath. "I got Yost's place on record. Fancy stuff. You'd like most of it. I can run it down, or try to piece by piece, but I figured if you took a look, you might be able to tag it faster. Paintings, sculptures, antiques. You'd know if they're the real thing by looking at a disc?"
"I would, most likely. I can't guarantee, as good copies need to be examined in person."
"I don't peg him as the good copy kind of guy. He's vain about that stuff, like somebody else I know."