«Yes, he will. Carla, could we have a moment, please?»
Surprise flickered briefly over Poole's face, and was quickly masked. «Of course. I'll be outside when you need me.»
She went out, closed the doors.
«Shall we sit? My father-in-law's office. Intimidating, I find. Would you like coffee? Anything?»
«No, don't trouble.»
They settled in the sitting area, and Avril laid her hands in her lap. «I'm not a businesswoman, and have no aspirations in that area. Far from it. My function here is—and will continue to be—that of a figurehead. The Icove name.»
She looked down at her hands, and Roarke saw her run a thumb over her wedding ring.
«But I felt it was important that I meet with you personally when you expressed interest in Unilab and the Center. I need to be frank.»
«Please do.»
«Carla—Ms. Poole—believes you have intentions of acquiring majority shares in Unilab. At least that this visit is a kind of scouting expedition toward that end. Is it?»
«Would you object to that?»
«At this moment, I feel it's important that we evaluate and reconstruct, as it were, the Center, and all its facilities and functions. That I as the head of the family, be involved in that process as much as it's feasible. In the future, possibly the near future, I would like to think that someone with your reputation and skill, your instincts, could be a leading hand in the work done here. I'd like time for that evaluation and reconstruction. As you know, probably with more comprehension than I, the center is a complex, multifaceted facility. Both my husband and his father were very hands-on, on every level. It's going to be a laborious restructuring.»
Forthright, Roarke thought. Logically so, and very well prepared for this meeting. «You have no desire to take a permanent, active part in running Unilab or the Center?»
She smiled. Contained, polite, nothing more. «None whatsoever. But I want time to do my duty, and the option of then putting it in capable hands.» She rose. «I'll leave you to Carla. She'll be able to give you a much more comprehensive tour than I, and answer your questions more intelligently.»
«She seems very capable. She mentioned she went to Brookhollow College. I'm sure you understand I had some research done before this meeting. You also graduated from Brookhollow, correct?»
«Yes.» Her gaze stayed steady and level. «Though she's younger than I, Carla actually graduated ahead of me. She was on an accelerated course.»
At Central, Eve conducted the briefing in a conference room. Attending included the chief of police, her commander, APA Reo, Mira, Adam Quincy—chief legal counsel for the NYPSD—as well as her partner, Feeney, and McNab.
Quincy, as was typical in Eve's—thankfully rare—dealings with him, played devil's advocate.
«You're seriously alleging that the Icoves, the Icove Center, Unilab, Brookhollow Academy and College, and potentially all or some of the other facilities with which these two lauded doctors were associated are involved in illegal medical practices that include human cloning, physiological imprinting, and the merchandising of women.»
«Thanks for rounding it up for me, Quincy.»
«Lieutenant.» Tibble was a tall man, lean, with a dark face that could set like stone. «As chief counsel points out, these are stunning and serious accusations.»
«Yes, sir, they are. They aren't made lightly. Through the investigation of the homicides we have ascertained that Wilfred Icove, Sr., was acquainted with and worked with Dr. Jonah D. Wilson—a noted geneticist who supported the lifting of bans on areas of genetic manipulation and reproductive cloning. After the death of his wife, Wilfred Icove came out publicly in support of his associate's stand. While Icove ceased his public support, he never retracted his statements, and together these men built facilities—«
«Medical clinics,» Quincy put in. «Laboratories. The respected Unilab, for which they won the Nobel Prize.»
«Undisputed,» Eve snapped back. «Both these men were also instrumental in founding Brookhollow. Wilson served as its president, succeeded by his wife, then his wife's niece.»
«Another respected institution.»
«Avril Icove, Senior's ward, who subsequently became Junior's wife, attended that institution. Avril's mother was an associate of Icove Sr.'s.»
«Which correlates logically to being named her guardian.»
«The woman suspected of killing Icove Sr., and visually identified as Deena Flavia, also attended Brookhollow.»
«First, visually identified.» Quincy lifted a hand, tapped one finger. «Second—«
«Will you just wait?»
«Quincy,» Tibble said mildly, «save the rebuttal. Continue, Lieutenant. Lay it out.»
Somebody, somewhere, claimed a picture was worth a thousand words. She figured Quincy had a couple of billion words. But she had plenty of pictures. «Peabody, first images, please.»
«Yes, sir.» Peabody keyed them in, as previously discussed.
«This is the image generated by the security cameras of the woman calling herself Dolores Nocho-Alverez exiting Icove Sr.'s office moments after what has been confirmed as time of death. Sharing the screen is the ID image of Deena Flavia, taken thirteen years ago, shortly before her disappearance. A disappearance that was not reported to any authority.»
«Look the same to me,» Reo commented and cocked an eyebrow at Quincy. «Granted there are ways to duplicate images, or to change your own appearance—temporarily or permanently. But, it could be argued, why? If Dolores accessed Deena's ID image, it could also be argued she would have known or assumed either her cooperation or her death. Which ties them together again.»
«Feeney?» Eve asked.
«The data listed for Dolores Nocho-Alverez is fabricated. Right down the line: name, DOB, FOB, parents, residence. It's what we call a sleeve—just a quick, temporary cover, with nothing inside it.»
«Next image, Peabody,» Eve said before Quincy could interrupt. «This is a student ID image, from Brookhollow. Age twelve.»
«We've established the woman known as Deena Flavia attended the Academy,» Quincy began.
«Yes, we have. But this isn't Deena Flavia. This is Diana Rodriguez, currently age twelve, currently a student at Brookhollow Academy, and identified through computer verification of image matching and aging programs as Deena Flavia.»
«Could be her kid,» Quincy murmured.
«Computer puts them as the same person. But if this is her offspring, it still leaves the question of false identification and data records on this minor female. It still leaves the question of how a minor was allowed to become impregnated and give birth—off the records—at a respected institution. There are no records of adoption or guardianship. There are fifty-five more matches, just like this, of former students of Brook-hollow and current minor females attending same. What do you figure the odds might be for fifty-six students giving birth to fifty-six female offsprings who so perfectly replicate their physical appearance?»
Eve waited a beat, and was met with silence. «All one hundred and twelve of them educated or being educated at the same institution, none of the data on the offspring indicating adoption, guardianship, or fostering that included their true biological parents.»
«I wouldn't put money on it,» Tibble murmured. «You've bottled some lightning here, Lieutenant. We're going to have to figure out how to keep it from frying our asses. Quincy.»
He was rubbing his fingers down the bridge of his nose. «We need to see them all.» He lifted his hand up before Eve could speak. «We have to verify every one if we're going to the wall on this.»
«All right.» She felt time dribbling away from her. «Next images, Peabody.»
15
At the center, Roarke allowed the efficient Carla Poole to guide them through elaborate imaging and simulations labs, into state-of-the-art examination and procedure areas.