"I guess he did. Problem?"
"No, no." Reeanna waved her hand. "I'm distracted, I suppose. William went on endlessly about some glitches he's concerned about. I left him brooding over his creme brulee." She flicked a glance toward her humming computer. "The work never stops around here. R and D's a twenty-four/seven proposition." She smiled. "Like police work, I imagine. Well, I didn't take time for brandy. Would you like some?"
"No, thanks. On duty."
"Coffee then." Reeanna moved over to a counter, requested a snifter of brandy, a cup of black coffee. "You'll have to excuse my lack of focus. We're a little behind schedule today. Roarke needed data on the new VR model, and he wanted it from conception to implementation."
"That was yours. I didn't realize that until he mentioned it just now."
"Oh, William's mostly. Though I had a small part. Now." She handed Eve the coffee, then took her brandy around the desk to sit. "What can I do for you?"
"I'm hoping you'll agree to that consult. The subject is currently in custody, now lawyered, but I don't think we'll be blocked there. I need a profile, angling from your particular area of expertise."
"Genetic branding." Reeanna tapped her fingers. "Interesting. What are the charges?"
"I'm not free to discuss that until I have your agreement and clear the session with my commander. Once that's done, I'd like the testing scheduled for seven hundred."
"Seven a.m.?" Reeanna winced. "Ouch. And here I'm a night owl rather than a lark. You want me up and running at that hour, give me some incentive." She smiled a little. "I can assume you've already had Mira test your subject – and the results weren't to your liking."
"Second opinions aren't unusual." It was a defensive answer. She felt defensive. And, Eve realized, she felt guilty.
"No, but Dr. Mira's reports are sterling, and they're very rarely questioned. You want him badly."
"I want the truth badly. To find it, I have to separate theory and lies and deceptions." She pushed off the desk. "Look, I thought you were interested in doing this sort of thing."
"I am, very. But I like to know what I'm dealing with. I'd need the subject's brain scan."
"I've got it. In evidence."
"Really?" Her eyes gleamed, catlike. "It's also important to have all available data on his biological parents. Are they known?"
"We accessed that data for Dr. Mira's test. It'll be available to you."
Reeanna leaned back, swirling her brandy. "It must be murder." Her lips twitched at Eve's expression. "After all, that's your field. The study of the taking of lives."
"You could put it that way."
"How do you put it?"
"The investigation of the takers."
"Yes, yes, but in order to do so, you study the dead – and death itself. How it happened, what caused it, what transpired in those last moments between the taker and the victim. Fascinating. What kind of personality is required to study death routinely, day after day, year after year, as a vocation? Does it scar you, Eve, or harden you?"
"It pisses you off," she said shortly. "And I don't have time to philosophize."
"Sorry, bad habit." Reeanna let out a sigh. "William tells me I analyze everything to death." She smiled. "Not that it's a crime – that sort of murder. And I am interested in assisting you. Call your commander," she invited. "I'll wait and see if clearance is forthcoming. Then we can go over details."
"I appreciate it." Eve removed her communicator, turned away, and requested display only. It took longer and was, she felt, less effective. The coding through of information and request. How could you add your instincts, your determination to a display?
But she did her best and waited.
What the hell are you trying to do, Dallas, override Mira?
I want another opinion, Commander. It's well within procedure. I'm pursuing all angles. If I'm unable to convince the PA to charge Jess with coercion to self-terminate, I don't want the lesser charges to slide. I need verification of intent to harm.
It was pushing it, and she knew it. Eve waited with a knotted stomach while Whitney mulled over his decision.
Just give me the opening, she thought. He needs his ears pinned back. He needs to pay.
You're cleared to proceed on my authorization, Lieutenant. This better not be a waste of budget. We both know Mira's report will weigh heavily.
Understood and appreciated. Dr. Ott's report will give Barrow's lawyer a headache, if nothing else. I'm currently working on detailing connection between suspect and victims. Results will be available by nine hundred hours.
Be damn sure of it. My butt is now swinging with yours. Whitney out.
Eve let out a long, quiet breath. She'd bought a little more time, and that was all, she admitted to herself, she was after. With time, she could dig deeper. If Roarke and Feeney couldn't pull out data, there was no one, off or on planet, who could.
Jess would pay, but murder would go unavenged. She closed her eyes a moment. And that was where she stood. Avenging the dead.
She opened her eyes again, wanting to align herself before she relayed the details to Reeanna.
That's when she saw it, in black and white there on the computer monitor.
Mathias, Drew logged as AutoPhile. Mathias, Drew logged as Banger. Mathias, Drew logged as HoloDick.
Her heartbeat jerked, but her hand was steady as a rock as she switched her communicator from off to open, signaling to Peabody and Feeney on code one. Backup required. Respond immediately to transmission source.
She pocketed the card, turned. "The commander okayed the consult. Reluctantly. I'm going to need results, Reeanna."
"You'll get them." Reeanna sipped her brandy, then shifted her gaze to the sleek little unit on her desk. "Your heart rate just spiked, Eve, and your adrenaline level rose dramatically." She angled her head. "Oh dear," she murmured, and lifted her sparkling hand. It held an official NYPSD stunner. "That's a problem."
Several floors above, Roarke scanned the new data on Mathias, hummed over it. Now we 're getting somewhere, he thought. He switched back to auto and tuned in to the data on the new VR unit. Wasn't it odd, he thought, and interesting, that some of the components on Jess Barrow's magic console so closely mirrored the components of his new unit?
Then he swore softly when his interoffice 'link buzzed.
"I don't want interruptions."
"I'm sorry, sir. There's a Mavis Freestone here. She claims you'll see her."
He switched the second computer to auto, blocked both audio and video. "Let her in, Caro. And you can log out for the day. I won't need you anymore."
"Thank you. I'll bring her back directly."
Roarke frowned to himself, idly picked up the VR unit Reeanna had left him to try out. A few adjustments, he mused. Improved for the next release. It was loaded with subliminal options, and could explain the coincidence of similarity. Still, he didn't care for it. He began to consider a possible leak in his R and D division.
He wondered just what William had come up with as alterations for the second manufacturing run and tucked a disc into his alternate unit. It wouldn't hurt to run the data while he saw just what Mavis had on her mind.
His machine beeped acceptance, began to upload as his door opened. Mavis whirled in like a freak storm.
"It's my fault, all my fault, and I don't know what to do."
Roarke came around the desk, took Mavis's hands, and sent an understanding look at his baffled assistant. "Go on home. I'll deal with this. Oh, and leave the security open for my wife, please. Sit down, Mavis." He steered her to a chair. "Take a breath." Reading her accurately, he patted her head. "And don't cry. What's all your fault?"