«Peabody, before we get official, let me say your hair is charming.»
«Oh.» She colored a little as she lifted a hand to the new, flippy ends. «Really?»
«Absolutely.» Roarke heard Eve's low growl beside him. «Avril Icove, as acting CEO, met us in her father-in-law's office.»
«What?» Eve's eyes—she didn't remember squeezing them shut— popped open. «What?»
He'd known that would distract her from her fear and queasiness. «She's acting CEO, until the board designates a successor, and arranged to meet with us privately. She claims not to be a businesswoman, nor to have any desire to become one. I believed her. She also asked that if I had any plans to buy up a controlling interest in Unilab or the Center, that I give the facility a window of time to recover from the loss of its two main spearheads.»
«She seemed sincere.» Louise leaned forward against her safety straps. «The controlled grief seemed equally sincere. She also, diplomatically, spoke of believing the Center would benefit from someone with Roarke's skills and vision.»
«You figured she'd be willing to see you take over?»
«I do.» Roarke adjusted for the turbulence. «She has no medical or business training. But I doubt her board would be as amenable, which is why she met us privately. Develop a relationship, a foundation, with the general before the coup.»
«But she needs time so she can get what she needs out of it, or cover it up, or break it down. What the hell does she want?»
«That I can't tell you, but the COO, a Brookhollow alumni, was very careful about the areas we toured.»
«If you're taking it at face value, the privacy obsession might not make you blink,» Louise explained. «But if you're looking for undercurrents, it leads to all manner of questions.»
«Particularly the hidden cameras in exam and procedure areas.»
Eve measured Roarke. «If they were hidden, how do you know they're there?»
He gave her a look caught between smug and pitying. «Because, Lieutenant, I happened to have a sensor with me.»
«How'd you get it through security?
«Perhaps because this particular canny device looks like, and reads like, a simple memo book. In any case, every area we toured had them, and they were active during our visit. You're going to find, at the center, a substantial subsecurity and data sector.»
«Then there was the lab,» Louise put in. «Architecturally interesting, elaborate, superbly equipped. And remarkably inefficient.»
«How?»
Louise explained the setup while rain slapped the windscreen. «You might have different security levels,» she continued. «You might have separate floors or tiers for specific areas of research and testing. You would certainly, on sensitive work, require high clearance. But this setup had no logical flow.»
«Separate clearance required for every ray,» Eve repeated.
«Exactly. And a separate chief, each completely isolated from the other lines.»
«Standard security cams in view,» Roarke added. «An equal number hidden for area scans. And, most interesting, every station fed data into its hub. Not results, but every step, every byte of data.»
Eve thought of the police lab. The chief tech could access any sector, review and/or study any test in progress. But the place was like a hive, a maze of rooms, glass walls. While some sectors required high clearance, most areas connected with the busy bees buzzing not only in their own chambers but in others as well.
«Keep each line focused on its work. Limit or eliminate fraternizing and shop talk. Deny access to all but the top level. Not inefficient if you want to keep dicey stuff wrapped.»
She rolled it around in her head, then peered through the rain. «There'd be room there to close off a sector from the rest. Room for… what do you call the having-a-baby area of medicine.»
«Obstetrics,» Louise answered.
«The patient room I saw was like a high-end hotel suite. So maybe you keep your human incubators in-house, in style, segregated from the general population. Peabody, run a list. See what graduates got themselves medical degrees—highlight obstetrics and pediatrics.»
«Warrant's coming through.» Reo had a small, bulky briefcase unit in her lap. As it started to hum, her face brightened. «We're good to go.»
«Need to practice, though,» Eve mumbled. «Practice makes perfect. School's all about practice. Gotta have something going there.»
«Hopefully, we'll soon see.» Roarke tapped controls. «Starting descent.»
She saw it shimmer out through the damp mists and splattering rain. Red brick and domes and sky walks. Stone walls and denuded trees. The dull blue of a swimming pool covered for the season, the bright green and white of tennis courts. Paths snaked through the gardens and grounds, for scooters, she thought, for walks or bikes or mini-shuttles. She saw horses, and to her shock what she recognized as cows in an outdoor enclosure.
«Cows. Why are there cows?»
«Animal husbandry, I imagine,» Roarke commented.
The term gave her a horror flash of humans marrying bovines. She shook it off.
«Cops. We've got cops. Three units, and an ME van. Goddamn it.»
Not state, she decided, trying to get a bead on the vehicles and uniforms as Roarke angled toward the helipad. County, she decided. Probably county. She yanked out her PPC and did a quick search for the local police.
«James Hyer, sheriff. Age fifty-three, born and bred this county. Did four years regular army, right out of school. Had the badge twenty years, current status the last twelve. Married eighteen years, one offspring, male—a Junior—age fifteen.»
She studied his ID image as well as his basic data to try to get a bead on him as well. Fleshy face, ruddy. Maybe liked the outdoors and the local brew. Military haircut, light brown. Eyes light blue, plenty of crow's-feet. So he didn't go in for the face treatments, looked his age and maybe a few extra.
She was already yanking off her safety strap as Roarke touched down. She was out, striding toward the school before the two uniforms were able to reach the pad.
«This is a secured area,» one of them began. «You're going to need to—«
«Lieutenant Dallas.» Eve flipped up her badge. «NYPSD. I need to speak with Sheriff Hyer. Is he on-scene?»
«This isn't New York.» The second uniform stepped forward— leading, Eve thought dryly, with his balls. «The sheriff's busy.»
«That's funny, so am I. APA Reo?»
«We have a warrant to enter any and all of these facilities,» Reo began, and held up the copy she'd printed out. «To search same for evidence pertaining to two homicides in the State of New York, borough of Manhattan.»
«We have a secured scene,» the second uniform repeated, and planted his feet.
«Name and rank,» Eve snapped.
«Gaitor, Deputy, James County Sheriffs Department.» He sneered when he said it, and Eve allowed him to keep his skin, due to the possibility that he was just dirt stupid.
«You're going to want to check with your superior, Deputy Gaitor, or I will detain you and charge you with obstruction of justice.»
«You don't have any authority here.»
«This warrant gives me authority to fill out its terms and requirements, which were agreed to by the State of New Hampshire. So you're going to contact your boss, Gaitor, within the next ten seconds, or I'm going to take you down, cuff you, and toss your idiotic, puffed-up ass in the nearest confinement facility.»
She saw it in his eyes, saw the twitch of his hand. «You reach for that weapon, Deputy, and you won't have use of your hand for a week. But you won't need it as I'll have twisted your undersized dick into a pretzel so even the thought of jerking off will cause you unspeakable pain.»
«Jesus, Max, ease back.» The first deputy took his fellow by the arm. «I contacted the sheriff, Lieutenant. He's coming out. We can walk over and meet him.»