“Someone besides Alex with a cop in his pocket.”
“Could be. Yeah, it really could be. And if that’s how it goes, the cop has to be in her squad.”
“Back to IAB.”
“I’m thinking yes.”
“Well, have some breakfast first.”
“I’ll grab something. I should get in and . . . Crap. Damn it. My ride.”
“Have some breakfast,” Roarke repeated, “then we’ll deal with your transportation.”
Scowling, she jammed her hands in her pockets. “I lost my appetite thinking about those bastards in Requisitions.”
Roarke simply walked over and programmed her a ham-and-egg pocket. “Here, quick and easy.”
“I guess.” She took a sulky bite where she stood. “I’d get Peabody to offer personal sexual favors again, but they’re not going to buy that a second time. They’ll make me beg, then they’ll still give me the crappiest piece of junk in the junk pile. I could bribe Baxter to do it,” she considered.
“The personal sexual favors?”
“No, but . . . maybe. Requisition a new vehicle. Like he needs one. They like him. Except they already know it’s my ride.” Her tone turned bitter as cop coffee. “They have their spies everywhere.”
“This is a very thorny problem, Lieutenant. I think I can help you with it.”
“They’d give me the pick of the fleet if you offered them personal sexual favors. But I’m not going there. There have to be lines, there have to be limits. Besides, I’m a goddamn lieutenant.” She stuffed her mouth with ham and eggs and thin, warm bread. “I shouldn’t have to beg,” she muttered around the food. “I’m a boss.”
“You’re absolutely right. The bastards.” He slung an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go downstairs. I think I may have a way around all this.”
“It’s not like I did anything. It’s wrecked, sure, but it was wrecked in the line. Fuckers.”
“I agree. Fuckers.”
The amusement in his tone was lost on her as she wallowed and stewed. “I hate playing it this way. It just gripes me. But I can’t get bogged down in this during an investigation. So, maybe you could come up with a couple of cases of prime brew, or VIP seats for the ball game. A really shiny bribe.”
“I could, no doubt. But let’s try this instead.”
He opened the front door.
In the drive sat a vehicle of dull and somber gray. Its lines were too practical, too ordinary for ugly—so the best it could claim was drab. It did boast some shiny bits of chrome that glinted hopefully in the morning sun.
“Peabody already took care of it?”
“No.”
She’d started to walk to it, struggling against the personal disappointment that it was much more humble in appearance than her old one— a lot more humble, so the shiny bits came off as pitiful as cheap lip dye on a homely woman. Then she stopped, frowned.
“Don’t tell me it’s yours. You don’t have anything this ordinary in your toy box.”
“It’s not mine. It’s yours.”
“You said Peabody hadn’t . . .” Now who was a half step behind? “You can’t buy my official vehicle.”
“There are no rules or regulations restricting you from driving your own vehicle on your official duties. I checked.”
“Yeah. I mean no. I mean you can’t just give me a ride.”
“Of course I can, and fully intended to. It was going to be your anniversary gift. And now I’ll have to come up with something else there.”
“You were going to give me a cop ride for our anniversary in July. What, you’re a sensitive now and foretold my ride would get trashed?”
“It was only a matter of time. But no. I thought it was a gift you’d appreciate. Now, it’s not a gift. Now, it’s a request. You’ll do a favor for me and take it, use it.”
“I don’t get why you’d—”
“It’s loaded,” he interrupted. “The internal data and communication, both primary and secondary, are state of the art. Its vertical and air are comparable to the new XS-6000.”
“The XS . . . you’ve got to be kidding me.”
“As with much else, it’s what’s inside that counts here. It’ll go from zero to sixty—ground or air—in under one-point-three seconds.”
“Sweet.”
“It can achieve a fifteen-foot vertical lift within that same amount of time.” He smiled as she began to circle it, study it. Smile widened to grin as she opened the hood. She knew next to nothing about engines.
“It’s really big and shiny under here.”
“It’s programmed for solar, noncombustible, and combustible fuel. Its body is blast-proof, as are its windows. It’s a bloody tank that’ll move like a rocket. Auto-nav, of course, holo-map, voice or manual controls. It has an electronics detector that will notify you if anyone has rigged it—or attempted to. There’s an in-dash camera with a reach of a hundred and fifty yards in any direction.”
“Jesus.”
“Memory seats. Alarms, lights, and sirens as required by the department. A blast screen that can be activated between the front and back sections if you have a need to transport any suspicious characters. Let’s see, have I forgotten anything?”
“Yeah, the twelve-disc tutorial that tells me how to run it. Roarke, I can’t—”
“It’s programmed for your voice and print, no codes necessary.” She wouldn’t, he’d determined, get out of it that way. “For now, you just tell it what to do. It’s programmed for Peabody as well, as I know you very occasionally allow her to take the wheel. And for me. If at any time you want someone else to drive, you can authorize them.”
“Okay, now hold on. This is worth five times—maybe ten times—what a department ride is. I’ve never actually bought a vehicle, so I’m ballparking here. I can’t drive around in something that costs more than all the rides in my department put together. Pretty much.”
He thought she could be as skittish as a virgin when it came to money. “But I can bribe your fuckers and bastards with cases of brew and sports tickets.”
“Yes. Not logical, but yes.”
He just brushed a finger on the healing cut on her forehead. “Think of this. If you’d been driving this yesterday, you’d not only have avoided the accident, you’d have apprehended those in the van. You may very well have closed your case by now.”
“Oh, that’s not—”
“But more, I’ll say again. This isn’t a gift. It’s a favor to me. I’ll know when you’re in it, you’re safe. So I’m asking you to do this for me.”
“It’s sneaky of you.” She hissed out a breath. “Damn sneaky of you not to get pissed or demand. Make it a favor. That you’re doing it as much for yourself as me.”
With the soft spring morning around them, the homely ride beside them, his eyes met hers. “That would be the truth.”
“Yeah,” she said after a moment. “Yeah, it would be. I can do you a favor.”
“Thanks.” He touched his lips to hers.
“Hey.” And she grabbed his lapels, dragged him back for a long one. “Pretty damn smart, aren’t you? You made it just ugly enough. Inconspicuous. Nobody looks twice.”
“I have to admit, that was a hard one for me. I think one of the designers had a breakdown. Cried for an hour.”
She laughed. “It’s good. It’s really good. You had it built for me. Jeez, it’s my first actually owned-by-me vehicle, and you had it built for me.”