Misdirection in Death

Misdirection in Death - Chapter 1
Posted by Cyrex , 13 January 2012 1,238 views

Light was beginning to make its way through the tiny office window as Eve
closed the folder on her comp. Pushing away from the desk, she took the
well-worn path to the autochef and refreshed her mug of coffee. The small
chime reminded her she was going to need to replenish her stash of Roarke's
excellent coffee soon.
Taking the mug to the stingy window, Eve watched the sky grow lighter as
color spilled across the buildings of her city. She hadn't been able to sleep.
There was always paperwork waiting to be completed. Eve preferred to keep
her home office for the murder cases that challenged her and leave the dull,
but necessary, details for Cop Central.
As the sky brightened, Eve began hearing the sounds from the bullpen of her
cops starting their day. She might get one more folder completed and
shipped out before she was interrupted. She wanted a clear conscience when
she left early today.
Why did they still call it paperwork, Eve wondered, as she opened another
file in her overflowing inbox. Almost everything was on computers these
days. Comp work or file work didn't generate the same mind numbing
images as the dreaded paperwork she decided. It would probably be called
paperwork far into the future when no one knew what paper was.
Cop-flat, brandy-colored eyes remained on the screen as Lt. Eve Dallas,
NYPSD's top homicide cop, worked her way through another month of
budget, expense reports and evals. If one corner of her mind was running a
vid of futuristic cyborgs dealing with numbers and words floating in the air
while complaining about paperwork, it didn't interfere with her concentration.
If her nose twitched at the unexpected odor of donut, she only wondered
what dumbshit would bring a donut into a room full of cops.
She was focused.
A blip on the screen alerted her to an incoming news report. Head of the
Electronic Detection Division or EDD, Captain Ryan Feeney, had set up a few
keywords after Eve had bitched about being out of the loop too often on the
doings of her billionaire husband, Roarke. Over the past two months since
Feeney had presented her with the program, she had surprised the usually
unflappable Roarke with unexpected knowledge of his business. She had
even managed to shut up his major domo and major pain in her ass
Summerset once.
A smile played across her full lips as Eve saved her work and settled back to
gather more intel. Her husband's business wasn't really that boring if she
took it in small pieces, Eve thought. It was just knowing he owned just about
damned near everything that would cause her eyes to cross and her brain to
shut down.
Roarke's glorious face filled the screen. His brilliant blue eyes reflected
concern with a serious situation. For just a moment, Eve was taken back to
that first day she had displayed his picture on her comp. She was in the
middle of a murder case then, and he was a person of interest. She had
found him interesting every day since.
It took a moment for the words spoken with a whisper of Ireland to penetrate
Eve's mind.
That's right, Donna, Roarke was saying to the on-the-air reporter. My
marriage to Lieutenant Dallas is over. We'll be filing the paperwork as soon
as I return from Olympus.

8:15 am -- Channel 75 top on-air reporter Nadine Furst focused on the
upcoming interview, leaving the vehicle on automatic. A small frown marred
her glossy exterior as the link buzzed incessantly. She glanced at her camera
operator, Amy Devlin, who shrugged with a smile and responded to the call.
"Tune to Channel 63 now," Trace Jeffries' rough voice ordered.
Amy brought up the the on-dash screen. Trace was Nadine's producer.
Normally he maneuvered Nadine into doing what he wanted. This tone was
new.
Blonde, curly hair and toothy grin filled the screen as Channel 63's
sweetheart Donna Michaels glowed into the camera. Anyone could tell she
was vibrating with excitement at the size of the story.
"Yes, Jake," she answered the question from the anchor in the studio. "The
marriage between mystery billionaire Roarke and top NYPSD homicide cop
Eve Dallas is over. Just before departing on the shuttle to Olympus, Roarke
announced, in an exclusive Channel 63 interview with this reporter, that he
would be filing for divorce upon his return.
It was good the car was on automatic, Amy conjectured. Otherwise Nadine
would have come to a screeching halt in the middle of the street.
"Why were we scooped on this," Trace raved. "I thought you had an in with
the power couple. How did you let that little 63 bimbo scoop you."
As expected, Dallas' number went to voice mail. Nadine didn't bother to
leave a message.
"Trent, call my 8:30 and reschedule. I'm headed to Cop Central."
Amy was already keying the destination in the dash nav unit.
The sound of a revving engine was the only warning as the large recreational
vehicle plowed into the back of the car, pushing Nadine and Amy into the
intersection. Horns blasted as a stream of cars crashed into them. Foam
released to cushion the blow.
#
8:20 AM -- Donna Michaels hated ending the remote. She never felt more
powerful or more beautiful. Unless her radar was completely off, hunky, rich,
soon-to-be-free Roarke had flirted after the camera went off.
"Hey sweetheart," her cameraman, Jimmy, said, "looked like you might be
number one on the rebound nookie list."
A wide, toothy grin signalled her agreement. "Let's get back to the station. I
need to set up a salon treatment. He's do back in a week. I want to be ready
for a follow-up interview."
#
8:45 AM -- "Take that, Channel 75," Maxfield Jackson pumped his fist in the
air then replayed Donna's interview again. "Nadine Furst be damned."
"Serves that cop bitch right. Always giving preferential treatment to Channel
75 and that uppity Nadine Furst." Jackson, owner of Channel 63, ran the
report again. Damned if that reporter....Donna something, wasn't flirting with
the Irish bastard.
Maxfield buzzed his admin, "I need coffee. In honor of our big story, make it
Irish."
"A little early, sir. Your wife.... his admin started in disapproving tones.
"You work for me," Maxfield answered coldly. "Irish coffee, now."
He pushed away from his desk and walked to the window. He watched
advertisements stream by. An airbus full of tourists hovered outside the
window. The privacy screens were in place, Maxfield knew they could see
nothing.
But today was a special day. He was the newly crowned king of New York City
media. He put the privacy screen down. The air bus windows filled with
cameras and links as the visitors took the opportunity to capture someone
important to the Big Apple. Maxfield was certain the guide on the tourist bus
was telling them that this powerfully built man was Maxfield Jackson. He
knew he looked good in his custom suit...Roarke's tailor actually. His hair was
styled to perfection.
He decided to make the lucky tourists' day. He smiled widely and raised his
hand in greeting.
Seconds later blood and brain matter coated the window providing a new
type of privacy screen.
#
9:05 AM Eve answered the familiar incoming number. She had been
filtering calls since the newscast, but this one she wanted.
Summerset appeared on screen. Within seconds the warning flashed that
someone was hacking the call. The slightest flicker in Summerset's eye told
her he was seeing the same thing. A trace was started from both sides.
Lieutenant, delighted arrogance dripped from his tone, I have received a
message from Roarke.
You spoke to him?
No, it was sent to voice mail. I am not permitted to allow you back on the
premises. I have been ordered to pack your personal belongings, what you
came with only. Where would you like me to send them?
Going to raid your rag bag and get my clothes back to me? Dallas sneered.
She watched the progress of the trace. It was slow.
I believe I will use my own discretion in this and pack your work clothes. You
will have no need for the finer clothing. He looked down his nose at her.
Where do you want them sent?
Mavis, I guess, her eyes narrowed as the hack dropped. The trace hadn't
been close to completing. Summerset shook his head slightly as Dallas sent
an inquiring glance.
I'm keeping my scheduled leave, Dallas told him. I should be at Mavis's
around noon. Be sure my stuff is there.
Summerset sniffed, Can I assume you will arrive three hours late and in
need of a change from your blood-covered clothes?
Nah, I'm on paperwork duty, Eve sat back in her chair. Make sure you
send the best delivery boy you can find.
Of that you can be certain, Lieutenant, Summerset ended the transmission.
#
The hacker sat back disappointed. He had expected rage, pain, something.
Instead all the calls he monitored from Dallas today had been like this
one...grim, sarcastic...
Wouldn't it be something if there had been trouble in paradise and this
announcement had come as no surprise. That would require some
readjustment to the plan.
He had plenty of targets. He had narrowed the field down, not wanting to be
too obvious. It looked like he was going to have to open it back up.
He pulled the voice mail file he had sent to Roarke's man Summerset.
Channel 75 and 63 were in chaos right now. Little Channel 22 could use a
ratings bounce he thought, as he sent the file ordering Dallas out of her
home with the clothes on her back to newsroom@22.news. Whoever opened
the file would be having a very good day.

Time moved slowly as Eve methodically worked through the files, waiting for
the moment she could leave without raising questions.
The sounds from the bull pen had dropped consistently over the past 30
minutes. She clicked save and send as someone knocked. Eve had locked the
door, ordering her partner, Detective Peabody to handle any assignments.
Whatever brought someone to her door could not be good.
She rose and stretched, before taking the couple of steps to the door.
There's been an attempt on Chief Tibble, Peabody said before Eve could
snarl at her. Nadine is in the hospital, we just got word there was an
explosion at the Canal Street Clinic...
Louise?
Unknown. Dallas, the bull pen is empty. We've had murders at Channel 63,
the U.N., a couple of professional buildings downtown and random sniper
fires at the Staten Island Ferry. We've got calls in from other homicide units
asking for assistance. The explosive unit wants someone from homicide to
work the bombings with them. I put Carmichael on the Tibble Task Force.
Peabody's link buzzed. While she read the incoming, Eve took a moment to
text Dochas security for lock-down and bomb scan. If Dr. Louise Dimatto's
clinic was hit, the battered women/children shelter funded by Roarke could
be a target. The next text went to Summerset. Cover Mavis.
Gas at Trina's salon, she's on the way to the medical center.
The sound of heels approaching had Eve looking over Peabody's shoulder.
Peabody turned to see NYPSD top shrink, Dr. Charlotte Mira, and Commander
Whitney coming down the hall. Briefly Eve closed her eyes. She wasn't ready
to deal with either one, together she was going to have to be very careful.
Eve, Mira stretched her arms out to take Eve's hands. Have you had a
chance to speak with Roarke?
No, the calls go to voice mail. He's communicating with his admin Caro and
Summerset via messages. No one has spoken to him since this morning's
interview, Eve pulled away from Mira and turned to her commander.
Sir, I know there's a lot happening in the city, if you need me to cancel my
leave...
Lieutenant, given the circumstances, I think you should continue your leave
plans. I've come to ensure you are aware you will receive the support of this
department.
Dallas looked at her commander, Dr. Mira and Peabody. She was damn tired
of waiting. Sir, both Nadine and Trina are in the medical center. I'm going to
drop by on my way ho...to Mavis's. There's a couple of things I'd like to
discuss with you, Dr. Mira and Captain Feeney before I leave. Would you mind
walking with me?
Whitney studied Dallas for a moment. He knew his top people and when
something wasn't quite right. Lt. Eve Dallas clung to regulations when
dealing with him. She was capable of flexibility and over the last three
years,he had watched her grow into the skill. Mira started to respond but he
stopped her with a quick nod.
All right Lieutenant. Detective, Whitney glanced at Peabody, Contact
Feeney and ask him to meet us at the Lieutenant's vehicle.
Eve, Mira began.
Dallas shook her head. Dr. Mira, if you don't mind, I'd like to wait for
Feeney.
#
Feeney was leaning against Dallas' modest looking ride, working on his PPC.
He looked over as Whitney, Mira, Peabody and Dallas approached him. His
graying red eyebrows rose in surprise. What's up kid? he asked Dallas.
Get in, Feeney. We're taking a ride over to the Medical Center.
Whitney slid into the passenger seat. Feeney, Mira and Peabody filled the
back seat. As soon as the doors closed, Dallas flipped a switch jamming all
communications inside the vehicle. Steady, high-pitched sounds emanated
from Mira's broach and Whitney's pocket.
:Listening devices, Dallas said grimly. She wanted to pat the dashboard
with unexpected affection. The ride might be modest on the exterior, but it
was loaded thanks to Roarke. He was constantly updating it, focused making
it as safe as possible.
She backed out of her parking space and drove sedately out of the garage.
She keyed in the medical center address and put the vehicle on automatic.
Mira unpinned the broach from her apricot jacket. An antique silver card
holder was pulled out of Whitney's jacket. Both were passed to Feeney. First
time I got to use this baby, Feeney mumbled as he pulled out a small wallet
of tools.
I know you have questions, let me get this out first, Dallas turned slightly
in the seat. That was not Roarke on the broadcast this morning.
Eve... Mira started.
No, Roarke has been out of town for the past week.
What does he have to say? Whitney asked.
Why hasn't he contacted the media? Feeney demanded.
We haven't been able to reach him. I'm hoping to hear something this
afternoon.
Feeney handed Mira's broach back to her and passed Whitney's classic card
holder back to him. You can open communications, Dallas. The bugs have
been swatted, he tapped the small wallet back into place. Damn fine set of
tools.
Dallas cleared the jam. Mira's personal beeped. Glancing down, she paled.
It's Dennis, 911. I've got to take this.
Everyone in the car was silent. Mira's husband Dennis Mira was a favorite.
Dennis, what....
Charlie...just a minute His voice faded, as if turned away from the unit
talking to someone else. It's over there...no I put it down as soon as alarm
sounded.
Dennis, what is going on. Talk to me.
Well now, Charlie, the medics are here and the hazmat team is checking the
package out.
Medics...hazmat team, Mira repeated numbly. She was unaware that she
had grasped Peabody's hand and was squeezing it so tightly the bones were
rubbing together.
Eve changed the car navigation to Mira's home. She Took off the auto pilot
and sent the car screaming down the street.

Peabody moved out of Mira's way as Dallas pulled the car to the curb outside
the Mira home. She could see Mr. Mira sitting in the open back of the
emergency vehicle. A heavily armored gray van sat behind the orange and
yellow MT ride. Mira jumped out of the car as it came to a rolling stop. She
ran to her husband despite the treacherous high heels she wore.
Dallas and Whitney strode over to the man standing at attention beside the
armored vehicle. Have you identified what set off the scanner?' Dallas asked
the square jawed man. His powerful physique and short-cropped hair
screamed military.
He looked her up and down and turned his attention to Whitney. Who are
you?
Dallas, Lieutenant Eve and Commander Whitney, NYPSD.
Locals, he snorted.
Dr. Mira is with the NYPSD, Whitney pointed out. This is her home, her
husband is sitting over there with the MT's. Now report.
Whitney's voice must have carried the right amount of authority. It was a
biological agent. If Mr. Mira had opened the package, he'd have been dead in
about 15 minutes, but it would have been a bad 15 minutes. The CDC is not
happy to see this in the wild.
In the wild...meaning it was created in the lab? Dallas asked.
Massive shoulders shrugged, That's the scuttlebutt. That was some sweet
system they had. Most home scanners would have missed it.
Dallas thought back to the Mira's anniversary. At least twice over the past
two years, Mira had been targeted by serial killers. Eve and Roarke had given
the Mira's a top of the line, Roarke Industries scanner. It would identify most
explosives, chemicals and biological threats. It rivaled the one in her own
home...and thank goodness for it.
She acknowledged the information with a nod and strode over to Feeney and
Peabody. Whitney joined the Mira's.
How's Mr. Mira? Peabody asked.
Very lucky, Apparently it was man made, Dallas thrust her hands into her
slack pockets. She rolled back on her boot heels as she watched Whitney
talking with Dr. Mira and her husband.
What's going on Dallas? Peabody wondered, also watching Whitney and
the Mira's. Nadine, Trina, Louise's clinic, Mr. Mira. It can't be a coincidence.
Feeney added, Don't forget the attempt on Tibble, the bogus interview with
Roarke...
An interview with Channel 63, Dallas murmured. Didn't you mention
murders at Channel 63?
Peabody consulted her PPC, The owner, his admin and a couple of security
guards. Everybody at the station was re-watching the interview. The first
they knew was when a feed came in from Channel 75. There was a tourist
blimp outside the window. Plenty of recordings of the owner's head
exploding.
Exploding? Dallas turned towards Peabody, How?
No known weapon at this time, Peabody scanned the preliminary report.
The admin and guards?
Guards took stuns on high. Admin got her throat cut while she was pouring
whiskey into a cup of coffee.
Why do people want to ruin a good cup of coffee, Dallas wondered.
Um, employees interviewed think the owner, Maxfield Jackson, was
celebrating his station's exclusive, Peabody winced as she looked up from
her PPC into Dallas' cool stare.
What are you thinking, kid? Feeney asked.
Do you remember that mess about 6 or 7 months ago in Chicago?
Sure, some sort of scandal with the Mayor...big surprise, Feeney snorted.
And while everyone was focused on the Mayor and other city officials, they
had their highest crime spree since the urbans.
Peabody started reading the results of her quick search, In two week, five
explosions killing ten. Twenty-three murders, six classified as assassinations
because they were high level targets. Hospitals were overrun with a new
strain of virus.
Dallas, I don't remember any of this. I just remember hearing about the
scandals, Peabody continued scrolling through the reports. It looks like
most of them went unsolved. They've gone cold.
The press, Dallas sneered. The scandal was more interesting.
Mira left Dennis and moved to the trio by the car. Tears sparkled in her eyes,
Eve, without that scanner, Dennis would... she couldn't finish the sentence.
Dallas shifted. She was never comfortable in situations like this. Deciding to
follow Mira's usual move, she reached out and took Mira's hands. The
important thing is he's safe. Are they taking him in? Dallas angled her chin
toward Mr. Mira and the emergency vehicle.
We're going to a CDC facility. They're going to be quarantining the house.
I'm going with him.
Of course you are, Dallas replied.
Whitney walked up behind Mira, Dr. Mira, they're ready to leave.
A black sedan pulled up beside them, There's a meeting of the task force on
the Tibble investigation. Do you need a lift, Captain? Whitney asked Feeney.
Could I have just a minute more with Captain Feeney?
Make it fast, Lieutenant. Whitney answered as he moved to the sedan.
Feeney, I want you to do a search for like situations. Sudden spikes in
murders or a rise in bombings, disease outbreaks occurring at the same
time as a major scandal, Dallas said. Do you have time to fit that in?
Aren't you off for the next few days? Feeney asked.
I'd say I am in the center of this, Dallas replied. I know with everything
hitting at once, EDD will be up to their ears with case work.
I'll fit it in, Feeney promised. Where will I reach you?
I'm going over to Mavis's after checking in on Nadine
And Trina, Peabody added.
Dallas' low growl raised Peabody's spirits. At least some things were normal.
Dallas' aversion to the stylist was strong as ever.
Since Peabody lives in the same building, she can come with me, Dallas
said.
Works for me. I can drop McNab off, Feeney answered, referring to
Peabody's cohab and EDD fashion plate, and meet up with you at Mavis'.
With that, Feeney joined Whitney in the sedan, the Mira's left in the medical
wagon, Dallas and Peabody headed out to visit Nadine, leaving the armored
military van sitting outside the Mira's tidy home.
#
The bell rang over the door of Spirit Quest. An exotic Amazon with a cascade
of wildly curling red hair stepped out from the back room.
Blessed be, how can I help you, Isis asked. The pleasant expression never
left her face, as her senses tingled at the touch of danger. She felt a frisson
of power surging in the air. As a witch she listened to the warnings.
The customer was a small, slender man that might reach her shoulders. He
moved deeper into the store, winding closer to Isis. His hand trailed across a
series of crystals sending pain reverberating through Isis.
You have a beautiful shop, the customer said. He picked up a pack of Tarot
cards and spread them out, examining the mystical art work. Unlike most
other Tarot cards, there was no writing on the cards to identify the meaning.
Pushing aside items on top of the display case, the customer pulled out a
card and laid it on the counter in front of Isis.
What is this one?
The High Priestess, Isis answered.
He laid another card next to it, And this one?
The Tower of Destruction. It looks worse than it is, Isis said quietly. The old
ends to make room for the new. The death and rebirth cycle is frequently
painful. Isis readjusted the large amethyst geode that the customer had
moved.
A third card was laid across the Priestess and Tower. Isis looked at it with
morbid fascination, then up at the oddest weapon she had ever seen.

Posted by Cyrex , 05 February 2012 1,131 views
Nadine spoke into her headset while inputting notes in her mobile unit when
Dallas and Peabody entered the hospital room. It was a double room with a
curtain drawn against the second bed. The usually perfectly groomed on-air
reporter was gone. The left side of Nadine's face was swollen and discolored
with the oncoming bruise.
I hate it when that happens, Dallas winced.
Nadine looked up from her work, Someone's here, I'll get back with you.
Without waiting for a response, she ended the call. I must be worse than I
thought if it got you into a health center, Nadine said.
I visit, I interview, I interrogate, I just don't stay, Dallas answered
definsively. She studied her friend closely. I expected it to be worse after
reading the accident report.
Hello, Peabody, Nadine nodded at the Detective. She then turned her
attention back to Dallas, Unlike some people, I encourage the use of
modern medical miracles. If I followed your example of refusing treatment, it
would be worse.
It had not escaped the sharp reporter's notice, that Eve was doing a room
scan using her wrist unit. At Dallas' nod, Peabody checked what was behind
the curtain and gave a go ahead nod. The Lieutenant must be distracted if
she missed the unholy gleam of amusement in Peabody's eyes.
So give, Dallas, Nadine said when Dallas finished the scan. If you're here
instead of either hunting the bastard down, or rolled up in a ball of despair,
you know something. What does Roarke have to say for himself.
Ball of despair?
Weeping and bemoaning the tragic loss... Nadine explained with a wave of
her hand. Give....off the record.
I haven't been able to reach Roarke, Dallas answered.
But even off planet, you should be able to reach him, Nadine said. Then
added quietly, Or is he refusing your calls?
No one has been talking to him since that interview this morning, Eve
explained. There's been a few messages sent...
Nadine snorted, Like the one Channel 22 received?
Dallas set her back teeth, Yes, like the one Channel 22 received.
Seriously, Dallas, what's going on? I couldn't believe my eyes this
morning...
That's because it isn't him, came a gravelly voice from behind the curtain.
Dallas stiffened and threw an accusing look in Peabody's direction. She
marched around the bed and pulled back the curtain. For a moment, Dallas
didn't recognize the occupant of the bed. The face had a gray pallor to it, no
makeup and the hair was flattened against the skull served to disguise the
beauty consultant.
It wasn't him on the interview this morning, Trina said again.
What makes you say that? Dallas asked with interest.
It was a good job, Trina rasped, but you can't fool these eyes.
I ran several computer analysis. The results were inconclusive. Voice match
the same, Dallas said. What did you see?
No matter how well done, appliances don't move exactly the same as the
real deal. Did you run an analysis on the video or still shot?
Huh, Dallas stuck her hands in her pockets. If we get you the video can
you identify what you see is wrong?
Something to do instead of lying here? Bring it on. Then those eyes that
didn't miss anything narrowed, You need a trim. You been using the eye
cream I gave you?
Dallas backed away, Sometimes. Trina saw Dallas as a walking
advertisement of her skill with hair and skin. Grudgingly Dallas recognized
that skill, but she admitted to herself and a few others that Trina scared her
when in hairdresser mode.
If you don't want that announcement coming from the real thing, you'll start
doing it all the time, Trina warned darkly.
What can I do to help? Nadine asked. She knew they would lose Dallas
quickly if Trina kept at her.
Gratefully Dallas turned her back on Trina and focused back on Nadine.
There is something. I've got Feeney looking at it from the crime angle.
Maybe you could look at it from the news/gossip angle.
Maybe I could, Nadine's eyes sharpened. What's the angle?
How's the gossip about Roarke's announcement playing against the attack
on Channel 63 or the assassinations at the UN?

I'd say 10 to one. Lots of screen time for Roarke and you, Nadine
answered.
Remember the Chicago scandal about six months ago? Dallas tried to
ignore the reference to herself getting screentime.
Sure. Turned out to be bogus, Nadine thought about it a moment. You're
thinking it was a distraction, and so is the Roarke interview.
Dallas nodded, Think you can dig up other big news stories that got more
air time than crime?
That would be just about any scandal, but I think I see where you're going.
Did you see anything when you were hit this morning? Dallas changed the
subject.
No, I was talking with the station. We were on automatic, just keyed in Cop
Central after seeing the Roarke interview, when pow, Nadine rammed her
right fist into her left hand. Something hit us from behind. Pushed the news
van into an intersection, foam was filling up the cab, horns were blaring, then
there was crashing. I don't remember anything after that until I woke up in
emergency.
What about you? Dallas turned back to Trina. The report said the gas
came from your station.
New girl must have given me the wrong chemicals, Trina answered.
Dallas' eyes narrowed, New girl?
I was doing a touch up, butterscotch honey. I keep my station stocked, it's
the current fad, but someone must have grabbed it in a pinch. I had to send
the new girl to get the shade, Trina pulled herself painfully up. Air rasped
through damaged lungs. You think it was on purpose?
You and Nadine ending up in a medical center at the same time, that's a
coincidence. Louise's clinic blowing up and a biological attack on the Mira's
makes it more.
What? Nadine and Trina said in unison.
Louise is all right, she wasn't there, but two nurses and a doctor plus 3
patients were taken to Emergency. No deaths reported, Peabody said. The
house scanner caught the package before Mr. Mira opened it.
Do you have the new girl's name? Dallas asked.
I can get it, Trina said.
Peabody's communicator beeped and she stepped away.
When you get her name, or any of the information, let Peabody know.
Peabody? Nadine asked.
I'm on vacation as of, Dallas looked down at her watch and grimaced at the
time. 20 minutes ago. I've got to go.
With that, Dallas turned and strode out of room. Peabody scrambled to follow
her Lieutenant's long strides.
Dallas, Peabody said. There's been a call from Spirit Quest. Dispatch was
asked to tag you.
Spirit Quest? Dallas' forehead furrowed as she tried to place the name.
Isis, Peabody prompted.
Isis, Dallas repeated. Damn....I know too many people. This wouldn't have
been a problem three years ago. I'm already late getting to Mavis'.
She'll understand, Peabody huffed as she followed Dallas down the stairs.
I've got a delivery I need to be there to accept, Dallas said. I'll drop you at
Spirit Quest.
#
Dallas drove by Mavis' building, cursing at the reporters camped outside the
doors. She parked in a garage three blocks down. She had lived in this
building, in fact, Mavis had her old apartment. Leonardo and Mavis had
leased the apartment next door and combined the two spaces. No one would
recognize her utilitarian apartment in the flamboyantly decorated home of
music sensation Mavis Freestone and her husband, up and coming designer
Leonardo.
Unless there had been some major changes, there were a couple of back
ways into the building she knew. With any luck, the reporters would never
know she was there.
Ten minutes later she rapped on the apartment door. After several
heartbeats, the door opened and she was pulled into the embrace of a
mountain of a man.
From the living room came a loud squeal of delight Daas.
Leonardo patted Dallas on the back, squeezed one more time then let her go.
Eve looked into the living room to see Leonardo's and Mavis' daughter Belle's
excited face behind bars, Hey kid, what'd you do to deserve time in the
pen?
Belle's tiny hands held the bars and bounced up and down, chanting her
version of Dallas' name.
Mavis came out of the kitchen, a tiny fairy of a woman with pink and purple
ringlets. An apron was tied around her waist and the smell of spaghetti sauce
floated into the room. Dallas, what's going on. I can't believe Roarke, she
paused as she watched Dallas sweep the room with her wrist unit.
She followed Eve through the rooms of the apartment, keeping up a constant
stream of comments on Roarke's announcement. Eve murmured responses
as she ensured each room was clean of listening or recording devices. Once
more in the living room, she frowned at the partially closed privacy screen.
Dallas checked the screen, it seemed to be blocked. Pursing her lips, she
studied the apparatus...where was a geek when you needed one, she
wondered. Mavis skirted her and pried open the base with a screwdriver.
Wedged in place was a plastic ring stack set. Eve pressed the controls to
open the privacy screen. With the pressure lessened, Mavis was able to pry
the child's toy free. With another command, the privacy screen closed
completely.
Mavis snapped the base closed and grinned up at Dallas.
You have tools? Dallas asked.
I have hammers and wrenches too, Mavis answered. No matter how good
the landlord is, sometimes you have to fix little things.
Huh, Dallas took the toy out of Mavis' hand. Is this Belle's?
Yes, Mavis frowned, but I don't see how it got in there. The opening for the
screen is too small to fit something this big. Maybe someone wanted to get
some home shots of Leonardo or me.
Got a bag I can put this in? Dallas asked. We can check it for prints.
Oh, Dallas, it's no big....
A signal from the doorman interrupted Mavis' reply.
Ms. Freestone, there's a man here with a delivery for Lieutenant Dallas.
Says he has to deliver it in person. I told him the Lieutenant wasn't here.
Dallas recognized one of men from Roarke's security team, I'm here,
Thomas. Let's see him.
The vid screen shifted from Thomas to show a stooped shoulder man holding
two suitcases. Stringy gray hair showed under a dirty cap. White overalls
hung off his frame. Dallas had been hoping that somehow Roarke would be
the messenger Summerset sent. She supposed with the crowd of reporters
outside that wouldn't have been a good idea. Hopefully there would be a
message which would lead to her husband.
Thomas continued speaking, He's been scanned, Lieutenant, he's clear.
Send him up.
Leonardo positioned himself at the door again. Dallas knew he wouldn't hurt
a fly. If someone got past the security detail, she'd handle it, but it didn't hurt
to use his size to intimidate whoever came to the door.
A tentative knock sounded. Leonardo opened the door and the man shuffled
in, bringing the cases with him. He moved into living room and dropped the
cases onto the floor with a loud thunk. Much louder than clothes would
warrant.
A shiver started up Dallas' spine. She moved towards the man in the center
of the living room, What's in the bags?
He stared at her with liquid brown eyes and nodded to the left, Coffee, then
to the right steak.
Dallas looked at his hands. Dirt encrusted the nails and knuckles. The tips of
the nails were rugged and chewed, but the cuticles were perfect on the long
fingers. Eyes were brown, voice was rusty, unused, lower east side. Smell
and greasy gray hair spoke to weeks between baths, if any. He smiled,
displaying yellow, cracked teeth.
She focused in on his lips, while moving closer. Leonardo looked confused,
Mavis began smiling and went over to scoop up her daughter. She extended
a hand to Leonardo and led him into the nursery.
Feeding me....getting me coffee....but nothing to wear. Sounds like you want
me full of energy and...naked.
He held the slouched position for a minute, then straightened. What gave
me away?
Eve picked up one hand and examined it, Didn't quite cover your last
manicure, Ace. Then there's your lips, she traced them lightly before giving
them a nipping kiss. She placed a hand against his chest and put his hand
over her heart. The heart knows.
Eve, Ireland whispered in his voice. He started to pull Eve into his arms.
She placed two hands against his chest.
Let's get rid of some of this first, Eve pulled the hat with gray wig off and
freed silky black hair. He removed the dental appliances, then peeled off the
pieces that had reshaped his cheeks, chin and nose.
Better?
The eyes, dye or contacts?
Dye, they'll be back to normal in 12 hours, he pulled her close again. Do
you want to wait?
Welcome home, Roarke, Eve brought her lips to his in answer.

Peabody studied the activity outside Spirit Quest. The MT's were on site. A
police barrier prevented interested onlookers from contaminating the scene.
A middle-aged officer walked in her direction, no doubt to move her along.
Her badge was out by the time he reached her.
Officer Baden, Detective. We were expecting Lieutenant Dallas.
Since the Rene Oberman case, Peabody had found she was usually
recognized by other cops on sight. She's on leave, Peabody answered
briskly. What's the status?
Shop owner, Isis, reports she came in to assist a customer. He pulled a

weapon and fired. She was able to deflect with a crystal...
A crystal, Officer?
Baden shrugged. She's a witch, he replied as if that explained everything.
There's purple shards and dust all over the shop. The officer paused as he
considered where to pick up his report. There was an explosion that brought
the victim's companion, Charles Forte goes by Chas. He called in the incident
and requested Lieutenant Dallas be notified.
Anyone dead?
No, at least not yet. The perp is pretty bad. He got peppered with those
purple crystal shards.
Who's the Detective in charge? since no one was dead, this wouldn't be
homicide's scene.
Detective Stewart is the lead detective. He's inside.
Thank you, Officer Baden, Peabody nodded to him. She activated the
recorder on her shirt lapel and walked into Spirit Quest.
Growing up, Peabody had heard stories of buckshot and she knew about
bombs filled with nails and other debris. She had never heard of a scene like
the one inside of Spirit Quest. The would-be assailant was on the floor
bleeding from multiple wounds. Slivers of purple, amethyst if Peabody was a
judge, protruded from his face, scalp, hands and chest. A small pile of
crystals was next to the MT working over him. Judging by the blood on the
crystals, they had recently been removed from the injured man's body. An IV
protruded from his arm. Major wounds were dressed.
The interior sparkled with a light purple haze of crystal dust.
Seated behind the counter, Isis was having her hands bandaged by a second
MT. Chas stood next to her, lightly rubbing her shoulder. A silver haired man
had his back to Peabody.
I still recommend you let us use the antibiotic cream, the MT said as he
completed the bandage.
I appreciate your concern. Chas is a licensed herbalist. I prefer to use the
natural remedy, Isis answered with a slight smile that obviously charmed
the tech.
If they remain sore, swell or become infected, get to a clinic immediately.

He completed packing his kit and moved around the counter.
Not wanting to disappoint him, Isis nodded. In fact, the burning had already
stopped due to Chas' salve.
As she watched him leave, Isis caught sight of Peabody. Her face lit up with
recognition and welcome.
The silver haired man turned to see what had caught the beautiful woman's
attention. His eyes narrowed as Peabody walked towards him. He saw a
curvy woman with brown shoulder length hair and bangs. A vest over a
short-sleeved yellow shirt covered her holstered weapon.
Detective Stewart? I'm Detective Peabody, homicide.
I know who you are. No one's dead, Stewart said gruffly.
Before Peabody could reply, Chas spoke, his voice beautiful and soothing,
Isis felt this was related to Lieutenant Dallas. When I contacted the police, I
asked they notify Dallas.
Forte's father had been a charismatic serial killer. Chas had inherited the
voice that enchanted millions. Apparently it had no impact on the older
detective. What's a hold up got to do with homicide?
Detective Stewart, I'm not here to step on your toes. I was with Dallas
visiting two friends that ended up in the hospital today when I got the call
about Isis requesting Dallas be notified. She generally has good instincts
about these things. If Isis thinks the hold up was related to Dallas, it's worth
checking out.
So, why didn't Dallas show up? the Detective asked. Too busy visiting her
divorce lawyer?
Peabody drop-kicked him in her head while refusing to respond outwardly.
She had scheduled leave.
What broke up an amethyst like this? Peabody gestured around the room.
Stewart held up a bagged weapon, This.
May I Peabody took the weapon from Stewart and examined it carefully
through the evidence bag. She knew most modern weapons, but this was
something different. The power pack was of unfamiliar design. The barrel
looked like a modification of the standard police issue stunner. She made
certain to capture all views of the weapon on the record.

I knew he was going to do something, Isis said. The sense of impending
violence was very strong.
Stewart snorted, obviously unimpressed with Isis' paranormal skills. Isis was
accustomed to that type of response so continued, keeping her eyes
fastened on Peabody.
He walked around the shop, touching the displays. Each thing he touched
increased the pressure, she rubbed a bandaged hand against her temple.
He then picked up the artist deck of Tarot cards. The deck has Major Arcana
only.
Peabody handed the weapon back to Stewart and moved down the counter
to the cards. It's a beautiful deck.
What do the cards have to do with.... Stewart started.
He laid down the High Priestess, I believe that was meant to be me. The
second card was the Tower of Destruction.
Isis looked around the shop, Usually the card is not so literal. I expected him
to place something obvious like Death or The Devil on the counter next.
Peabody looked at the third card face up, What is this card?
Chas looked down at it, The Hanged Man. It's a symbol of sacrifice, usually
self-sacrifice.
I looked up and he was pointing that at me, Isis nodded to the weapon. I
brought up the amethyst geode on the counter, hoping it would provide
some protection.
When he fired, it was light and sound woven together. Some I could see and
hear, some I could sense. It hit the amethyst squarely. The geode exploded in
my hands," Isis held up her injured hands. But instead of spraying in all
directions, it seemed to be drawn to him.
Seconds later, all the other amethyst crystals exploded.
Only the amethyst? Peabody clarified.
Chas answered, We haven't checked the inventory completely, but at first
look only the amethyst had the violent reaction to the weapon.
The MT's started transporting the suspect, Peabody glanced in their

direction.
How many are you putting on him? she asked Stewart.
One outside the door, SOP.
Peabody moved towards the door. She dropped her voice, forcing Stewart to
move with her in order to hear the words, Detective, you have an unknown
weapon. Homicide has a murder at Channel 63 committed with an unknown
weapon.
You think it's connected?
I think its enough of a coincidence to ask that you send the lab report to
me. In fact, I'll lend homicide's support with Berenski, provided you share,
Peabody said, referring to the head of New York's labs, not so affectionately
known as Dickhead.
They stepped outside, glad to be free of the crystal dust saturating the air in
Spirit Quest. Peabody took a deep breath.
I could do that, Stewart said. He studied the man being loaded into the
emergency vehicle. You think he might be involved in the homicide?
Peabody noticed the gleam in his eyes. I'd like to be notified when he's
ready for interview, she responded noncommittally. She knew he would be
filling in the blanks. We have reason to believe there may be more than one
person involved.
Dallas and, by association, Peabody, had been in the center of several career
boosting cases. There was that book the reporter wrote and the movie. If
Peabody was thinking conspiracy, Stewart wanted a piece of it. If he may
have associates, maybe I should increase the coverage on him, he mused.
Whatever you think best, Detective. It's your case. I appreciate your
cooperation.
Peabody headed to the subway. She considered it a successful day's work
and she had done it her way, with gentle persuasion instead of Dallas' kickass style.
#
Put me down, Eve said.
Missy and Kevin Brisbain are newlyweds. I feel honor bound to carry you
over the threshold, Roarke explained. He pushed through the door and set
her down.
An empty apartment in the same building that Mavis and Peabody occupied
had been leased by Missy and Kevin Brisbain. Furniture, clothes and an
incredibly top of the line computer system had been installed. All this had
been done in the few hours between Summerset receiving the message
blocking Dallas from returning home and Roarke arriving to make his
delivery.
Missy...do I look like a Missy? Eve demanded.
Ah God, Eve, I love you, Roarke kissed her pouting lips. Murders with
unknown weapons, attacks on our friends and reports of our impending
divorce, and you're focused on a cover name.
Who picked the name? Dallas persisted.
Roarke's lips twitched as he guided her through the bedroom to the bath.
That would be Summerset.
I knew it, I just knew it. Dallas kicked the door frame. He's been entirely
too cooperative this morning.
What are you complaining about? Roarke asked. He sent me this to wear.
Roarke began peeling off the smelly overalls. I shudder to think how he
acquired them.
Dallas watched with undisguised interest as Roarke's well-formed body came
into view in all its naked glory. She began stripping off her own clothes, then
glanced towards the shower.
It's tiny, she said, her disappointment obvious. I guess we'll need to
shower one at a time.
I'm surprised at you Lieutenant. Haven't you heard, size isn't everything?
It's what you do with it Roarke tugged her into the shower so tiny there was
no air between their bodies.
Eve snorted, That's what men always say.
Ah, a challenge, Ireland cruised through Roarke's voice. On a command, a
mediocre stream of steamy water slid over the couple.
They barely noticed.

Eve looked into familiar eyes oddly in the wrong color -- brown instead of
blue. She was barely able to breath. Blood pumped madly through her
system. She crested again. Her nails digging into a warm, muscular back.
A Ghra, Roarke surged into his wife one more time and held steady. He
kept his eyes focused on Eve's face, letting her see the depth of his love.
She held him close as he collapsed on her. When he moved to roll to his side,
protecting her from his weight, she wrapped herself tighter around him.
Don't, I missed you, the weight of you, the feel of you.
Eve, Roarke brushed his lips over her face. He shifted slightly splitting his
weight between the bed and his wife's warmth.
I'm going to have to change the terms of the contract, Roarke murmured.
I didn't get much sleep, you?
Some, Eve admitted. She kept touching him, assuring herself he was there.
I slept in one of your shirts, she told him, smiling a little at the admission.
It helped.
Roarke stretched into her stroke, reminding her of their cat, Galahad. I don't
think that would work for me.
I don't know, I think you would be fetching in one of Leonardo's designs
you're always dressing me in.
Fetching?
It's a word, at least she thought it was.
It is indeed, Roarke agreed, kissing her again. I was thinking more of one
of your t-shirts.
Eve started laughing, raining kisses across his face and shoulders. You, in a
NYPSD t-shirt. I could get a citation if I had it put into the department's
calendar. It would go viral.
Mmmmmm, he tugged lightly at her hair. It was good to hear her laugh.
She did that more now when they were together. It still didn't fit the public,
kick-ass, murder cop image, but in private she felt safe.
Thinking of how much they had both overcome to laugh and play and trust in
private, brought back the murderous rage Roarke had felt when he first saw
the interview with his doppelganger.
Dallas felt the shift in Roarke's mood. She understood where his mind had
gone. They had avoided the topic to take some time for themselves. It looked
like it could no longer be ignored.
She adjusted herself in his arms. She wanted to stay close to him, a warm
reminder that they were together despite what someone had tried.
I couldn't sleep this morning, even in your shirt, she said with a smile.
Since we were taking the week off, I went into the office to clear out the last
of the budgets and reviews waiting for me. I happened to have the news feed
on and saw the mention of an interview with you.
You just happened to have the news feed on...for channel 63?
He didn't miss a damn thing, OK, I've sort of got a program that lets me
know when there's stories about you.
Feeney or McNab? He kept it light, but felt that tug at his heart that she
cared enough to try to keep up with his business. He knew it bored her
brainless.
Jamie, Eve said, referring to the young computer genius Jamie Lingstrom,
that had once nearly circumvented Roarke's security. I got Feeney's OK to
put it on my comp at Central.
Is that how you knew about the Madison merger a couple of weeks back?
Roarke hadn't been able to figure out how or why Eve had known about that
transaction. Now that he thought about it, she had been more up-to-date
lately on his business dealings.
Are you OK with it?
Roarke kissed her lightly and smoothed his hands down her back from neck
to the dip of her spine. I have something similar. I track murders around the
city. I can usually identify the ones you catch. Two of a kind, he murmured.
Why didn't you ask me for the information?
Eve shrugged, slightly embarrassed. I liked surprising you with my
unexpected knowledge. You should have seen your face and Summerset's
when I brought up the Kerisaki deal.

When Roarke just smiled, she continued, I was enjoying looking at you,
hearing your voice...a week's a long time.
It is indeed, he agreed. Roarke had lost count of the number of times he
had played a memory cube he had taken with him.
Then the meaning of the words sunk in. I don't know how long I sat there. It
may have been a second or 5 minutes. It was like everything shut off, my
heart, my lungs, my brain.
Eve, Roarke pulled her impossibly closer to him. Someone had used him to
hurt her. That would not be allowed.
My first thought was it couldn't be you. Even if you had changed your mind
about us in the week you were gone, you wouldn't do it that way.
I started to call you, then remembered you were in a communications black
out. My brain started to work then. It couldn't be you because you weren't
getting ready to go to Olympus, that was a cover story.
Then Summerset contacted me. That program you had Feeney add to my
comp alerted me that someone was tapping it. That pissed me off, Eve
admitted. "Someone was bugging my official unit right in Cop Central. I used
my wrist unit and found they had bugged my office as well."
Roarke combed his fingers through her short-cropped hair, calming her. She
needed a trim, he thought absently. He hoped she'd make an appointment
with Trina instead of chopping it herself.
When I arrived at the rendezvous point, I was hoping you would meet me,
Roarke murmured.
That was my initial plan, but the day went to hell, Eve said quietly.
Summerset sent recordings of the interview and some of the news
commentary, Roarke told her. He also sent instructions you wanted to keep
my return under the radar until you figured out what was going on.
Fortunately, the disguise, including those despicable overalls, were in a
different bag.
After watching the interview, I was desperate to talk to you. To make sure
you knew I had nothing to do with it, Roarke stroked her cheek. You do
know that, his tone mixed statement, question and plea.
Eve kissed him, long and deep, It's what got me through the morning. I
know you wouldn't do that to me, to us.
Roarke sighed, Then I realized you would be at Mavis's place, your old
apartment. I picked up some coffee and beef. Those were the first gifts I
brought you. It seemed a kind of circle.
It didn't surprise Dallas that Roarke remembered that. He seemed to
remember everything about her. It did cause her heart to beat a little faster
that he would think to bring her presents guaranteed to stir those early
memories. I know.
Now I take it you have a reason for letting the story of our impending
divorce stand. What do you have in mind, Eve.
Reluctantly Eve pulled away from him and sat up. For that we'll need the
computer. How secure is it?
Really Eve, insults? Roarke sat up too. He reached across the bed and took
her hand, holding the bubble of intimacy a moment longer.
We'll get the bastards, Eve said, echoing Roarke's thoughts. They fucked
with the wrong couple.
Too right.
#
Peabody approached the NYPSD crime lab, domain of Dick Berenski. This was
her last stop of the day. Lieutenant Tabor had been assigned to cover for
Dallas during her leave. With the sudden crime wave, he was overwhelmed
managing his own department. He had reached out to Peabody who had
agreed to coordinate Dallas' division. She'd provide him reports and contact
him only if necessary. It had been a very busy day.
She knew the city was in chaos, but she was feeling pretty good about
herself. Dallas had handed her the Spirit Quest visit without a qualm. Tabor
apparently didn't question she could handle the squad. Her squad mates
didn't seem to have a problem with her being in charge, although she was
junior to many of them. She figured Tabor's request had to go through
Whitney, which meant the Chief was comfortable with the arrangement as
well.
There were big milestones in a career, like making Detective and smaller
milestones, like being the bad cop for the first time in an interview. This felt
like a major turning point, moving out of Dallas' shadow and establishing her
own place.
She wondered if Dallas had felt that as her partnership with Feeney had
shifted and changed. Feeney had trained Dallas, just as Dallas had trained
her. One day she would be in the position of training someone. Maybe it was
the Free Ager in her, but Peabody liked that idea, the continuity of it.
She took a deep breath outside of Berenski's lab. Dallas usually went in with
a kick ass attitude and really good bribes in her back pocket. That didn't fit
Peabody's style or wallet. She hoped that the best way to handle Dickhead
would come to her once she was face-to-face with him.
Peabody went through the door and was met with a scowl and a growl. I got
nothing for you.
Pinning on her most winning smile, Peabody asked, How about for Detective
Stewart?
You switching to Robbery, Detective? Berenski began bringing up the
Stewart file on his comp.
The weapon in his robbery may be associated with one of our homicides,
Peabody played it enthusiastic with barely suppressed excitement. The
perfect image of the junior detective with a possible major find.
I see he tagged it with an update for you. It's further down on the list than
your murders.
Dr. Berenski, Peabody could hear Dallas' snicker in her head. But she had
done her research and Berenski did hold a doctorate. Is there anyway we
can move it closer to the top? I got a look at the weapon. I'm sure I'm not the
expert you are, but I do know most of the modern weapons. This was
something new.
Berenski was studying the weapon on his screen. He felt excitement skitter
along his skin. Dallas usually brought him the most interesting challenges.
This smelled of Dallas, even if it was being delivered by her partner. Peabody
was doing an excellent snow job. If she had come in imitating Dallas' style,
he would have swatted her like a fly. The kid knew her strengths and she
didn't have the resources for a quality incentive. A few Doctors and
praising his knowledge was an interesting approach.
I guess Dallas is upset...the divorce being announced today, Berenski said,
fishing for gossip.
Peabody put on a sad face, if she worked this right, she might get some
sympathy points from Dickhead. She prayed that Dallas never heard about
this. She would kick Peabody around the block, She's on leave. She usually
only takes leave when she's going on vacation with Roarke. I think she was
planning on joining him.
No warning, eh? I know how that feels.
Berenski had been in a relationship not that long ago that went south,
Peabody remembered. I couldn't say, Peabody answered in a way that
clearly said she agreed with him.
He sent the request for the weapon to be brought to him. It wasn't long
before a young, lab coated man brought in the sealed item.
Tell me why you think this is related to a homicide, he asked. He watched
Peabody closely to see if she was going to try to bullshit him.
One of the murders at Channel 63, it was described as his head blowing
open, Peabody replied. She had been putting this together today for her
report to Dallas later that evening. She might as well try out how it sounded.
That's not a standard stun, no matter how high the setting.
They couldn't find any sign of a projectile. Then the witness at Spirit Quest
said there was a combination of sound and light. It reflected off this crystal
she was holding and burnt her hands.
A murder with an unknown weapon and an unknown weapon being used in
a robbery attempt a few hours later, Peabody shrugged. That's a big
coincidence. Either the person was involved with both, or there may be a
new type of weapon on the streets.
Berenski studied the weapon a few more minutes, then nodded. I'll push it
up on the schedule. You'll know shortly after I know.
Thank you, Peabody said politely. She wanted to push for an ETA, but now
didn't seem a good time to push her luck. She turned to leave.
Oh, and Detective, the compliments are a good touch, but you'll need to
figure out a way to make it worth my time to move your cases to the top of
the pile.
Peabody nodded acknowledgment. She might not have been as successful as
she thought, but it got her case pushed to the front of the line this time.
#
Everything was not going as expected, the Hacker thought. That rarely
happened. He planned each step of an op meticulously. Dallas was not
responding as he profiled.
She hadn't tried to contact Roarke. For that matter, Roarke hadn't tried to
contact her. Wouldn't it be a kick if the divorce announcement was not a
surprise?
On the other hand, maybe they had a way to contact each other that he
hadn't identified.
If that was the case, why hadn't his deception been exposed?
She had a back way into the Freestone apartment building. He had missed
she lived there when she met Roarke. He had known Roarke owned the
building, but that couldn't be avoided. She could potentially leave and enter
the building without him being able to track her activities. That damn tank
she drove prevented any attempt to bug, follow or disable it.
He had believed she would be so distracted that she wouldn't notice the
slight gap in the privacy screen, but she caught it first thing, leaving him
deaf and blind to what was going on in the apartment. The fact she had
caught the bugs planted on Whitney and Mira was disturbing.
What had tipped her off to check?
He had known she would be a challenge, but she was surpassing his
expectation. The only upside was Roarke being off planet. He suspected
Dallas' and Roarke's combined skills might have proved a match for him.
The door slid open and a slight red head came in, Problems?
Dallas is not acting as expected. Nothing I can't handle, he shut off the
computer and stood.
Any changes in the plan for tomorrow? she came forward and took his
hand, leading him towards the kitchen.
He considered it. He had already added a couple of hits for the next day.
They should be sufficient to keep Dallas' attention on what was happening to
her friends and off the rest of the city.
No, Dallas is not on duty so there's no chance of one these cases being
assigned to her. She'll be worried about her friends. Probably thinking it is
one of her enemies, looking through her old case files for something that
connects them.
The red head snorted, Cops, they're so predictable. They're almost too easy.
Dinner is ready.
He followed her into the kitchen. A niggle of worry circled his head.
Dallas had not been at all predictable.

Leonardo paused to check who was standing outside his door. There had
been no buzz up from the lobby. After the quick confirmation, he opened the
door and led the small group into the living room. Three people sat in a circle
on the floor, while Baby Belle tottered and careened from one person to the
other. Childish chatter that only a mother could understand crackled in the
air.
Dallas looked up. She had expected to see Peabody and her cohab, Detective
McNab. McNab's lime green and orange outfit somehow worked in the
multicolor decor of Mavis' home. Feeney stood with them. Dallas had hoped
he would come. It was Commander Whitney and Chief Tibble that had her
jumping up and at attention.
She was mildly embarrassed to have been found sitting on the floor playing
with Belle. She was pretty sure there was baby drool on her face. Belle did
love her smooches. But this was her friend's home, and she was off duty.
Dallas decided she needed to offer no explanations.
Leonardo smoothly snatched up his daughter and started for the nursery. I'll
just put her down for a few minutes, she's had a big day.
Belle chanted her version of every one's names and waved over her father's
back, her blue eyes bright with excitement. In Whitney's estimation it would
take some time to get the little girl calm enough to rest.
Mavis stood up, Hi everyone, Mavis gave the group, who hadn't moved
from the room entrance, a big smile to rival her daughter's. Be back in a
flash, I have to catch something in the kitchen. When the door opened to
the kitchen, mouthwatering smells of marinara sauce and garlic bread
wafted into the room.
Lieutenant, Whitney started, we're sorry to interrupt your vacation. After
our discussion this morning, I was hoping you had an update on the situation
with Roarke.
The third person had risen from the floor and turned to face them, She
does.
Roarke, Tibble said, what the hell was that interview about. The last thing
the department needed at the moment was the media storm your
announcement caused.
It wasn't my announcement. Roarke and Dallas had discussed what to tell
everyone, but they hadn't planned on Whitney and Tibble being part of the
audience.
At that moment, Mavis swung back out of the kitchen. Peabody flushed
slightly as her stomach growled at the aromas Mavis brought with her.
I'm limited in what I can tell you, Roarke continued. Roarke Industries has
several government contracts that require top secret clearance. I can tell you
I have been out of town for the past week in an undisclosed location under a
Federal Communications Blackout. When I got back today, I found someone
had announced my impending divorce.
Dallas picked up the story. She heard the thread of anger in Roarke's voice.
Although they were OK, he would not forget nor forgive that someone had
tried to put a wedge between them. We were planning to take a vacation
when Roarke got back. That's why I took leave. Sometimes he finds it useful
to have his competitors or media looking in a different direction. Roarke
scheduled a trip off planet and had the itinerary sent to the media. A Roarke
double got on a shuttle and left at 0600 today. Someone gave Channel 63 a
different time. That's why they were the only station to get the exclusive
interview.
Then it was your double that gave the interview? Tibble asked.
No, Roarke answered. Every one of them is accounted for.
Every one...how many do you have?
Roarke only smiled.
I have a few thoughts, Commander, Chief, Dallas began. We had planned
to go over it with my team after dinner. She threw Mavis an apologetic look
for the time she had spent preparing dinner....her friend hadn't even used
the autochef. I can take you up now to explain...
Is that spaghetti I'm smelling, Tibble asked.
Mavis nodded, and meatballs. There's plenty for everyone if you'd like to
stay.
Tibble and Whitney looked at each other, We wouldn't want your efforts to
be wasted, Tibble said. Just a moment, let us check in with our wives.
Tibble and Whitney moved away to contact their wives to let them know they
would be late. Roarke drilled a finger into Dallas' ribs. They remember to
call home.
They have 30 years of experience on me, Dallas frowned at Feeney as he
came over, Don't you have to call Mrs. Feeney?
Nah, I called her before leaving work. Told her I'd be late and to not wait
dinner. Didn't expect quite this spread.
Dallas tugged at her hair in frustration while Roarke smirked. He didn't really
mind if she missed dinners. It was the not knowing why that would drive a
cop's spouse to the edge. She was getting better at this particular marriage
rule, but she had a ways to go.
Peabody and McNab joined them. Your eyes are brown, Peabody burst out.
Are they now? Roarke said. Fancy that.
Eye dye, Dallas said. We didn't know who would be watching the building.
We didn't want them to know we'd made contact. Hopefully they still think
they're blocking all of Roarke's communications.
What do you think, Peabody? Should I leave them brown?
No, Peabody and Dallas said in unison.
After Tibble and Whitney finished speaking to their wives, Mavis called them
to the table where she had added two more place settings. A large bowl of
steaming spaghetti and meatballs sat in the middle of the table. On either
side were stacks of toasted garlic bread.
I know you plan to work after, Mavis said. Can you have wine? I have fruit
juice, colas or coffee.
Dallas started to say no to the wine when Tibble answered, I don't think
some wine with dinner will interfere with our meeting later.
Roarke sent Dallas a look across the table. Brown or Blue, there was no doubt
those eyes were laughing at her.

#
It was just weird, Dallas thought, to sit around the table with a grifter turned
music vid star, a top fashion designer, a thief and smuggler turned
billionaire, her Commander and the Chief of Police.
Tibble and Whitney both had children and fell into an easy dialogue with
Mavis and Leonardo about Belle. Roarke, Feeney and McNab were deep in
geek territory talking about the bugs that had been found in her office and
on Whitney, Mira and, as it turned out, Tibble and several other top officials.
Peabody updated her on the other cases that had come in a flood into the
homicide division. Conversations shifted covering Mavis' next tour,
Leonardo's spring line, the upcoming hockey season.
It was just weird...and somehow normal. Roarke glanced her way and smiled.
Yah normal.
#
Feeney and McNab stood nearly drooling next to the units installed in the
Brisbain apartment. Ian actually petted it, If you need a place to store these
when you move back home, remember we live 2 floors down.
I'm not that far away, Feeney reminded him, and I have seniority.
Dallas frowned at them, while Roarke merely smiled to himself.
Part of the time between their reunion and going back to Mavis apartment,
had been setting up the room for the expected meeting with McNab,
Peabody and Feeney. Roarke managed to locate a couple more chairs for
Whitney and Tibble. He took his position behind the computer controls while
Dallas stood beside the wall sized monitor.
I've got a theory about what is happening. Feeney did you get the a chance
to look into cities experiencing similar crime sprees accompanied by scandal
or gossip?
Sure did, kid, more than you would expect, he handed the disk to Roarke
who ran his results against an existing file. He nodded with satisfaction.
Put up the interview, Dallas asked. In seconds Roarke's face, bigger than
life, appeared on the screen. The sound was turned off. Knowing Roarke was
out of town and couldn't be at this interview, I ran this through every
recognition program I could come up with. It all came back inconclusive.

Same deal here, Feeney agreed. Too close to say definitely no, but
something too off to say yes.
When I visited Trina in the hospital today, she said you had to look at the
interview in motion. That no make up appliance was 100% perfect in motion.
She sent this over this afternoon.
On the screen appeared a matching overlay that Trina had marked where
skin didn't move just right. It's likely that the person has similar bone
structure to Roarke, like the doubles he uses. To make it perfect for closeups,
they used a life mask. It's likely the cheekbones and jaw is built up slightly
making the mask thicker there.
The screen zeroed in on the left eye. I was asked a few months ago to sign
off on using my name for a contact lens that was the same color as my eyes.
I refused. They came out with lens a few months later calling it 'billionaire
blue'. Another eye appeared on the screen. No eye is perfectly one color,
Roarke said. The eye on the right is mine, the eye on the left is wearing the
billionaire blue contacts. You'll notice there are color variations in my eye
that don't exist in the contacts.
Just enough to throw off the computer recognition, but not enough to give a
definite negative response, Feeney murmured.
I couldn't figure out why anyone would go to all this trouble when it would
be simple enough to verify with Roarke, Dallas said.
The Lieutenant, Summerset, Caro, they all knew I wasn't available, so no
one had tried my numbers. When I checked for messages, I found I didn't
have any later than yesterday. Given the media interest, that seemed
unlikely.
Roarke changed the image on the screen to a diagram of a voice system.
Someone hacked into my communication system, here. The area
highlighted in red. From this point all calls in are directed to them. They also
can send messages which appear to be coming from me.
Source of the hack? Whitney asked.
Still to be determined, Roarke said grimly. It's bouncing all over the planet
and off. It's going to take time.
Dallas picked up the thread, They not only sent the message to Summerset
to kick me out of the house with the clothes I brought, they also sent
business buy/sell orders to Caro.

Caro didn't like the look of the orders. Plus I shouldn't have been able to
communicate. She checked with Summerset who suggested they wait until I
was available this afternoon. No sense mentioning there were a series of
codes worked out between himself and Caro that would prevent someone
doing exactly what these bastards had tried.
What was the purpose of the buy/sells? Tibble asked.
Distracting me. Forcing me to put out fires, Roarke shrugged. The longer
they kept me from being able to manage my business, the higher and deeper
the fires would have burned.
Meanwhile, I'm distracted as well. My personal life is falling apart, I can't
concentrate on my job. My friends are under attack. I can't use the resources
they think I've come to depend on....
High profile deaths and you're off your game, Whitney murmured.
It all sounded too coordinated. Channel 63 gets the story, then the head of
Channel 63 is killed in front of an airbus of tourists. Louise's clinic gets hit,
Nadine gets rear-ended into traffic, gas fills Trina's salon, the Mira's are
targeted. That keeps me focused on my friends, my personal life and away
from the other deaths.
Then there's the attack on you, sir, Dallas directed her statement to Tibble.
That generated the creation of a task force, taking officers off regular duty.
While violence isn't unknown in New York, there was a jump in homicides,
bombings, biological attacks and seemingly random attacks on the general
public. The two coinciding has resulted in the police force being spread thin
across the city.
Detective Peabody, Dallas tossed the ball to her partner.
Startled, Peabody gamely went over the information she had provided Dallas
at dinner, Sir, every member of the Lieutenant's homicide division is
carrying a triple case load. We've received requests for assistance from all
the Burroughs as well as six other houses in Manhattan.
The number of spree killings was up 600% for the month in one day,
Peabody went on. In addition to the Channel 63 killings, 3 ambassadors for
the U.N. were killed along with members of their staff. Two judges have been
killed and there have been attempts on 3 others. A bomb went off at the
DA's office, putting three in the hospital.
When Peabody took a breath, Whitney broke in. Tibble and I are aware of
the reports, Detective. He looked back at Dallas, I take it you don't see
these as coincidence.
It reminded me of Chicago a few months back. I asked Captain Feeney to
dig into that and like occurrences. I also asked Nadine to look into it from the
gossip angle. Then I contacted a source to check if any of the deaths in
Chicago matched known contract hits.
Names went up on the screen. These are the names of the people in
Chicago that were killed over a 3 day period. 149 names rolled down the
screen. If we remove the spree killings, it drops to 36. If we focus on high
profile cases, we get 10.
Ten names were left on the screen. The contract hit list my source provided
has 16 names on it.
A second column appeared on the screen with 16 names, 10 of them
matched the first column. My source says that payment was made on these
10.
Your saying someone killed 139 people to hide 10 hits? Whitney asked.
The average number of suspicious deaths in Chicago in a week's time is 10.
I would suspect the feeling of lawlessness gave other people the sense that
they could go out and try murder. It's unlikely that all the deaths can be
attributed to one source.
The screen flashed again, None of the sprees were solved. Of the 36
remaining deaths, 18 have been resolved. The other 18 have all gone cold.
All 10 on the hit list are on the cold case list.
I'll give you it's a big coincidence, Feeney said, but that's a lot of trouble
for 10 killings.
The Lieutenant's informant estimates a $700 million dollar payout, Roarke
said.
We also got hit lists from several other cities where a large number of
payouts were concentrated in a short time frame.
Miami flashed on the screen with a list of 12 confirmed hits. This was also
on Nadine's list. A high profile anti-drug prosecutor was caught with a trunk
full of illegals and an underage girl in his car.
It's on my list too, Feeney murmured.
Los Angeles showed next, 8 confirmed hits. This is on both Feeney's and
Nadine's list, Roarke said. As are Seattle, Florence, Dublin, New Orleans,
Taiwan, Boston, and Denver.
In every case, something happened that pulled the focus away from basic
police work. Gave the trail a chance to go cold, Dallas said. She nodded to
Roarke.
The screen switched to another list, This is the list of the current known hit
contracts available on targets in and around New York. You'll notice 3 out of
the 4 confirmed high profile deaths are on that list.
The cops and the civilian in the room studied the list which included 20
people who were still alive, as far as they knew, but might be slated for
death in the near future. No one pointed out Roarke's name was on the list.
There was one person of interest taken into custody today after attempting
to hold up Spirit Quest. He was using an unfamiliar weapon, Dallas nodded
to Peabody again.
Nervously the detective handed Roarke a disk and went to stand by the
screen. At 11:45 this morning, an assailant entered Spirit Quest and
engaged the owner, Isis, in conversation. She was uncomfortable with his
presence. He pulled an unfamiliar weapon. She attempted to deflect with a
geode.
A geode, Detective? Tibble asked.
Yes sir, a ahmmm an Amethyst, sir, Peabody swallowed, concentrating on
controlling her breathing. She wished she'd had time to prepare.
The crystal exploded, followed by several other crystals, impaling the
assailant. This weapon, the scan Peabody had made on site filled the
screen. was found on scene.
Bloody hell, Roarke sighed.
All eyes moved from the screen to him.
I'm very much afraid, Lieutenant, you're going to have to work with the Feds
on this.
Posted by Cyrex , 12 March 2012 1,002 views

Linda Madison took a long pull of real tobacco, enjoying the feel of the smoke
filling her lungs. It was worth the steep government taxes, fines and extra
medical expenses to experience cigarettes as they were meant to be.
Herbals were such pale copies.
She detested copies. Although, sometimes they could be amusing, like the
wide eyed girl seated at the stainless steel sweep of Linda's home bar.
Tiny little thing with spiky black hair and crystallized lashes intended to make
her eyes sparkle like stars, the girl had shown up at an open chorus audition.
She was copying the look of Deidre Norton in Out of the Dark. She called
herself Taffee Starr. Christ, where did the kids get these names, it sounded
like a pre-urban wars stripper.
Linda had invited Taffee back to her place to discuss the girl's future. No one
that gullible should be allowed out onto the streets of New York. There was a
reason that the Casting Couch remained a tried and true story on Broadway
and Linda was a traditionalist.
A well-maintained 57, Linda was at the height of her career as a Broadway
producer. It had taken one show at the age of 22 for Linda to decide she
wanted to be the one in charge instead of the actor ordered around on stage.
She didn't need the applause....she needed the power.
Now she lived in a penthouse apartment with Manhattan at her feet. Only the
best designer clothing filled her closet. She preferred casual elegance, like
the light gray slacks and silk blouse with an oversized Barsarni graphic orchid
in black and smoky blue she wore. Her hair was a carefully tinted blond that
curved over one eye. She'd been told it gave her a come-hither look and
she had kept the style as her signature ever since.
By contrast Taffee resembled a street urchin. She wore black like so many
young Broadway hopefuls did as a kind of theatre uniform. Her thin face was
too pale for the blackness of her hair and clothes. If Linda decided to keep
her, some time would be needed to work on styling.
Wow, Miss Madison, Taffee said, in her Midwest twang, I've never seen
anything like this. It's like a castle in the clouds.
Linda smiled. Something sounded familiar about that phrase. The kid
probably lifted it from a vid like she had her look.
Thank you, Taffee. Maybe one day you'll have something like it, Linda
moved casually closer and ran a hand down the young girl's thin arm.
Taffee moved slightly away. A little skittish like a young filly that needed to
be broken. Linda liked a challenge. Sometimes with money and power things
came a little too easy. Taffee may just add a little spice.
Do you know how to mix drinks? Linda asked, moving away from the bar.
Making a little face, Taffee nodded, I've had to work as a bartender to pay
my rent. Everyone back home said I was the real thing...a star. It's a lot
harder than I thought it would be here. Maybe I should have gone to
Hollywood, but I wanted to be a real actress," Taffee stressed the word real
and eagerly continued, "like on Broadway. A vidstar is alright for money, but I
want more.
Hollywood would have gobbled this kid up faster than Broadway, Linda
thought. Let's see how good you are. It's hard to get a really good Martini in
this town. I'd like it very dry.
Big eyed, Taffee went behind the bar and looked at all the sparkling glass.
Hesitantly she took out what she needed, Shaken or stirred?
Shaken, of course, Linda answered with a light laugh, knowing Taffee had
pulled that from James Bond vids. Come join me when you finish. Linda
sank gracefully in the oversized plush chair. It shouldn't take much to
maneuver the girl to perching in the chair with her.
Taffee handed her the martini and went to the sofa opposite the chair. Linda
tasted the drink and barely hid the wince. It actually wasn't bad but
whatever it was, it wasn't a martini. Something else to work on with Taffee.
She snuffed out the cigarette and realized the craving was still there. Kill two
birds with one stone, she thought. Taffee, could you bring me my cigarettes
and lighter. They're over there in my bag.
Eager to please, the girl jumped up and quickly moved to the bag. She
brought back the silver case and diamond encrusted lighter. Do you want to
try one? Linda asked, offering her a hideously expensive cigarette.
Ah, no ma'am, bad for the voice.
Linda didn't hide the wince at the ma'am. One of the perks of being out
front instead of on stage.
She handed Taffee the lighter, encouraging her to do the small service of
lighting the cigarette. Linda took the opportunity to capture Taffee's wrist and
tug her into the chair beside her.
Tell me the truth, Linda said. You've never made a martini, have you?
Long manicured fingers tipped with shiny silver metal paint played in Taffee's
short spiky hair.
Taffee stiffened, It wasn't any good? When Linda remained silent,
continuing to play with her hair, Taffee sighed. It was mostly the young
crowd at the bar I worked in. I can make a Venus Butterfly or Saturn Orgasm
with my eyes closed. We had a comp unit behind the bar for the stuff the old
guys liked, but mostly they went for the hot trends to.
Without realizing it, Linda pulled viciously at Taffee's hair, old guys not a
hot trend. This girl had no respect for the classics. No she wouldn't be
keeping her, but no need to write off the night just yet.
Linda took another drink. The only thing this had in common with a martini
was the glass it was served in, but it was tasty. She took another drink and
realized the glass was empty. She'd really like more, but she'd made such a
point about it not being a martini. Maybe she could make it sound like she
was doing Taffee a favor.
She opened her mouth to speak, and realized the drink must have been
stronger than she thought. No words came out. Maybe she could just push
the empty glass towards Taffee and she'd get the idea. Odd, her arm, her
hand they didn't want to move.
Thank the good Christ, Taffee said, getting up. I thought the old skank was
going to hang on forever. Screen on.
The wide screen panel lit up. Linda didn't understand, it wasn't a regular
broadcast, it was just a room of people looking at her. Why the hell couldn't
she move? She tried to give the command to turn off the screen but nothing
came out. She tried closing her eyes to block out their stares, but the lids
would not close. Her eyes began to sting when she realized she couldn't
even blink.
Did you get it all? Taffee asked the people on the screen. Two women and 2
men nodded.
Yes, the third man affirmed. The voice was brisk and no-nonsense. His face
was a myriad of scars. Either the damage had been too extreme for
reconstructive surgery, or he wore them as a badge of honor. Linda thought
it was the latter. He leaned toward the screen, his eyes dark and without pity
as he focused on Lindas face.
Taffee got her bag and pulled out a small device. She ripped the lovely
Barsarni blouse and placed two wires on Linda's chest. Four more went on
her head, two at each temple.
The drink has her immobile, Taffee told the audience on screen as she
affixed the electrodes. She will be able to feel everything but be unable to
move, twitch or scream. She completed attaching the last electrode to
Lindas temple, These will transmit her brain waves and heart beats, so you
can be certain she is feeling the pain and the fear, as requested.
Taffee moved to the door and let someone in. Linda's heartbeat kicked up its
already speeding pace as she realized she couldn't even move her eyes side
to side. She could only stare at the people on the screen. In addition to the
scarred man, there was an older man who had had the right face sculpting to
appear experienced but not too old to vigorously pursue his goal. Linda
would have cast him as a politician. Standing next to him was a young
slender man...college student, Linda guessed. The women looked like sisters.
Depending on how often they had gone under the laser scapel, they looked
about 50.
She saw no pity, no concern, on any of the faces, only a kind of furious
avarice.
Lindas hair was pulled back into a ponytail, warm lips murmured into her
ear. I'm a much better actress than you gave me credit for.
The person Linda knew as Taffee Starr moved in front of her. Gone was the
awkward girl with stars in her eyes. This was a woman, at least 10 years
older than previously estimated. The clothes were the same, but worn with
confidence now they changed from childish stereotype to kick-ass warrior.
You will die tonight, Taffee said simply. The people on that screen have
purchased a designer hit. This little play is for their entertainment. It is up to
them whether they tell you why. The drug will keep you paralyzed.
Someone Linda did not see put her left hand into a vise and began crushing
perfectly manicured fingers then hand. The pain was hideous. The faces on
the screen watched the destruction, the horror in her eyes that even
paralysis could not prevent, the electronic report of her brain pain centers.
Inside Lindas brain she screamed, she rocked back and forth in the chair,
she pulled her hand free of the vicious torture device and used it to knock
out the unseen torturer. She raked the nails of her remaining good hand
down the face of Taffee, ruining her looks for all time. She called the police
and had their asses put into an offworld prison for the rest of their miserable
lives.
Tears ran down the face of the silent, motionless woman. Bowel and bladder
released as the body reacted in the only way it could to the pain and fear.
A lit cigarette was put in Linda's mouth, her faint breathing barely enough to
keep it lit, but God it burned.
The special blend sent an acid into Linda's lungs. From now until her last
heartbeat, every breath would be hellish.
You can, of course, try to move, try to scream, Taffee offered watching with
cool, unemotional eyes. The crystal lashes now made her eyes look like the
black pits of the damned. Consider it a challenge.
#
Roarke was behind the closed doors of the bedroom. McNab and Feeney were
petting and playing with the computer like it was their latest lover. Tibble and
Whitney were by the window getting more reports from around the city. From
their deep murmurs, it wasn't good news. Even Peabody was working away
trying to find ways to cover all the cases pouring into the division. Only Eve,
officially on vacation, had nothing to do but pace.
They'd have to call in the National Guard, at this rate, Eve thought. If Roarke
was right and the Feds were going to be involved too, wouldn't that make
one big happy party.
The bedroom door opened and Roarke stepped out looking about as grim as
Eve had ever seen him. They've agreed to give you limited access. If you
don't want to hear it, leave now.
Everyone went back to their seats in answer. Roarke brought a man on
screen.
Studying his face, Eve had trouble identifying a single feature she could use
to help build a sketch. Nondescript, Eve thought. If you looked up
nondescript in the dictionary it would look like the face on the screen.
Who is in the room, Roarke?
Crap, even the voice was nondescript. No accent, not too low, not too high.
Nothing.
Besides myself, everyone else is with the NYPSD, as I explained. Police Chief
Tibble, Commander Whitney, from homicide Lieutenant Dallas and Detective
Peabody, from EDD Captain Feeney and Detective McNab.
Detective Peabody, I understand you are a Free-Ager.

I was raised as a Free-Ager sir, but I'm a cop first.
No reservation in hearing and keeping top-secret military information?
None sir. But if you have a concern, I can leave, Peabody wanted to pout,
but kept all expression off her face.
Detective Peabody has been involved in several Code Blue, high priority
NYPSD investigations, Dallas said.
NYPSD has the ultimate confidence in Detective Peabody, Whitney added
his weight.
Roarke? The man on the screen said.
The Detective has some Free-Ager leanings. But when it comes to this, she's
a cop.
OK, so she liked to weave, made her own curtains, she was hooking a rug for
the apartment she shared with McNab....yeah, Peabody guessed she had
Free-Ager leanings. But that was a long way from doubting her ability to keep
government secrets.
You take responsibility? the man asked.
I do, Roarke responded, without hesitation.
What the hell, Dallas wondered. She knew Roarke was used to running just
about every damn thing, but this was the government. What had he just
taken responsibility for...and why was his word considered better than the
Commander's? She'd pin him down when this was over, Eve promised
herself.
Very well, if possible the face on the screen became more sober. What I
am about to share with you is classifed and on a need to know basis.
Providing this information to anyone without prior authorization can be
considered treason and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. If anyone
is uncomfortable with these terms, leave now.
No one moved.
Then we'll begin.
The anonymous government face disappeared and the shot Peabody had
provided of the weapon used at Spirit Quest appeared on the screen. You
are looking at a prototype weapon that disappeared from a government R&D
facility four years ago. The team working on the project disappeared at the
same time.
Six faces appeared on the screen. With a tap, the first ID photo was brought
forward. The man was blond and brown. He had the typical geek look about
him.
Peter King, 28 years old. He graduated from Harvard at 14. Typical
psychological problems of a child genius. People caught up with him
intellectually and in some cases bypassed him. He found it hard to take that
he was no longer the youngest or greatest genius in the room. This was to be
his ticket back to the top.
What happened, Dallas asked.
There was a problem with weapons range. The military was looking for
something accurate at great distances. While the technology was promising,
it wasnt up to current specs. Peter kept saying just a little longer, but I think
he knew the military was about to pull the plug.
It had other vulnerabilities, Roarke added, scanning through the specs
downloading to the comp unit before him. The reaction of the crystals that
Isis reported was one of the them.
Roarke, there was inflection in the male voice now, irritation and warning.
Jim, he sent someone into a store full of crystals. From what I know of him,
Peter King doesnt make that kind of mistake.
Are you saying they knew the crystals would explode like that? Dallas
interrupted.
Peabody was already checking in with the hospital. The suspect died two
hours ago.
Whered they send him? Whitney asked.
City morgue. Unattended death needing an autopsy. His injuries werent life
threatening, he shouldn't have died
Damn, Dallas had her pocket link out to contact the morgue. Whitney and
Tibble had their own links out. It was a suicide mission, the morgue is the
target.

Posted by Cyrex , 14 March 2012 976 views
The number of bodies waiting to be processed through the city morgue
worked in their favor, Dallas thought. The dead suspect, identified as
Christoper Collins, had still been sealed in the cold drawer where bodies
waited for their last exam.
Thanks to the weight of the Chief of Police and the Commander, the Urban
Anti-terrorism Team or UAT was now transporting the body to the NYPSD safe
room. Contained facilities to prevent the spread of infectious diseases had
been part of forensic medicine since last century. The Urban Wars had
bumped up the need to have safe rooms built in every metropolitan morgue.
The air system was contained, preventing the possible spread of an airborne
threat. The walls were reinforce, capable of handling any known bombs short
of nuclear. The autopsy would be handled remotely with sophisticated
surgical equipment manned by an ME in another location. If necessary, the
room and all in it could be cleansed by a variety of procedures from sprayed
compounds to extreme cold or high temperature fires, depending on the
threat.
Chief ME Morris had been home, relaxing with some screen and a glass of
wine when he received Dallas call. Now he was in the remote autopsy unit.
His house, his responsibility, he had told Dallas. She understood that well
enough.
Collins' Death Certificate allowed for the release of his medical files,
Peabody said. He had cancer, incurable.
Check his financials, Dallas ordered. Her eyes strayed to the e-geeks still
talking to the mysterious Jim. When the immediate threat had been
identified, they had divided into two teams. Roarke, Feeney and McNab had
stayed on with the government man continuing the technical briefing, while
she, Peabody, Whitney and Tibble had been coordinating the UAT and
morgue to get the body moved as quickly as possible to the safe room.
Peabody worked silently at her PPC for a few minutes. A recent deposit of
$10 million...a week ago. She worked a little more, Dallas, he has a wife
and three kids. Before the 10 mil, they had run through their savings.
Insurance covered the basics, but he had tried a lot of non-standard
treatments. Since the cancer is identified as incurable, insurance only pays
to keep him comfortable. He was looking for a way to live.
And when he couldnt find it, found a way to die and provide for his family,
Dallas murmured. They preyed on him, Peabody. Preyed on his fears, his
guilt for going through the family money. Howd they find him?
Looking, sir, Peabody responded.
Hes in place, Morris voice came through the speakers. On screen they
saw what was left of Christopher Collins lying on an autopsy table. Checking
the body for internal abnormalities.
A variety of sounds and lights played across the screen as a full array of
medical screenings bombarded the body.
Drawing blood for tox screen. the robot arm moved into place and inserted
the needle. Well be running a full battery. Dallas knew they would be
looking for biological threats as well as the standard test.
Here, Morris said. An internal view of Collins came up on screen. Morris had
circled a spot close to the center of the chest. Whoever planted this knew
what he was doing. This is the intersection of the Y cut. Three chances for it
to be nicked by an unsuspecting ME before it is removed. Used something
organic, easier for us to miss on a standard internal scan. Could be mistaken
for a tumor. Subject is missing gall bladder, appendix, prostate. Possible they
used some of his own tissue to build it to prevent rejection. Well know better
when we test it.
The preliminary exam continued, taking tissue samples, hair samples,
scrapings from fingers and toes...all carried out with precision by the
gleaming metal robot arm under Morris control.
Once the external exam was completed and the samples sealed, it was time
to make the cut.
Roarke, Feeney and McNab joined the group watching the autopsy. Although
they had been expecting it, the claxon warning of biological threat as the
planted foreign object was pierced sent a shockwave through the room..
Analysis fed through to Morris unit and he shared it out, I dont recognize it
all. Some looks familiar and if Im right, its ugly. Computer isnt identifying
everything.
Roarke pulled out his link, Jim, Im sending you an analysis of what was in
Christopher Collins.
A few moments later there was some innovative swearing coming from the
link, Same group in the room, Roarke?
We have Dr. Morris with the MEs office on remote.

There was a few minutes of silence, looking up Morris in the government
database was Dallas guess.
Im conferencing in Dr. Dorothy Cocozza with the CDC, the voice on the link
announced.
This had better be good, a brusque, no-nonsense alto voice came over the
link.
Dr. Cocozza, Im sending you a file.
Roarke moved to the computers. If you activate video, Ill set up a
conference call.
Its the middle of the damn night, you get what you get, Roarke brought up
the face of a middle age woman with burnished copper hair springing wildly
around her face. A pillow crease indented her left cheek. Nondescript Jim
from the government flashed up, joining Cocozza and Morris on the screen.
Li, Cocozzas face brightened, its good to see you.
Its been too long, Dorothy, Morris answered. Unfortunately this is not the
best of circumstances. Do you recognize the formula?
As she scanned the file, her naturally pale complexion grew several shades
whiter, Li, tell me this has been contained, that theres no way this got into
the general population.
This one, yes. But we dont know where it came from or how much of it they
have, Morris answered.
Silently Feeney joined Roarke at the bank of computers. He signed into the
Morgue system and what he saw had his eyes going flat. They didnt intend
for it to stay contained. The system at the Morgue is a closed system, but
there are certain vents that can be opened. Half an hour after Collins arrived
at the Morgue, someone hacked the systems and opened all the vents. If we
hadnt moved the body to a safe room, the biological wouldnt have stayed
contained in the Morgue.
Jim, you promised me the research into this had been stopped, Dorothy
Cocozzas green eyes blazed with outrage.
It was, Jim answered. All known samples were destroyed. But Leeann Ross
left the job after we shut her down. It looks like she continued on her own.
The good news, Dorothy said, is they included the failsafe. This limits the
life of the virus. The bad news is that it has a 98% fatality rate. This virus
reproduces at a fantastic rate. It can be multi-generational in a matter of
minutes. You are one mutation away from having a generation without a
failsafe.
Handling? Morris asked calmly, although Dallas noticed the element of
tempered steel in it. They had meant to kill everyone who worked in the
morgue and use them as a weapon to kill hundreds, potentially thousands
more.
Cold, Dorothy answered. You have it in a safe room?
We do, Morris affirmed, how cold?
-271o Celsius.
Morris pursed his lips. The system doesnt go that low.
I can take care of that, Roarke said.
Im sending you the details on the effects of the virus, Dorothy said. Once
you have it contained, the CDC will pick it up. Theres some alterations to the
original virus I need to understand.
With that, she abruptly ended transmission.
Roarke, Jim said, keep me updated. Lieutenant Dallas, get this shut
down.
He also ended transmission.
Tell me you are not involved in this, Dallas said to Roarke. This mad
scientists out of control shit.
Roarke Industries is not involved in any type of biological warfare, not for
the government, nor anyone else, Roarke assured her.
And the weapon? Whitney asked.
Roarke hesitated, figuring the tricky balance of need to know and need to
assure. I was brought in after Peter King disappeared. They had discarded
his design. I saw it in the brief, thats why I recognized it, but I havent
worked on it.
Everyone was aware of what he hadnt said. Roarke Industries could be

working on other weapons for the government, more destructive weapons.
Peabody broke the silence, Another $10 million just went into Collins
account.
#
The club was jamming. The girl singer was doing her best to copy Mavis
Freestones style as she belted out Belly Full of Love.
The dancers on the floor writhed together, a mass of humanity forced to
move in unison by sheer numbers.
If you could make it to the bar, the drinks would fry your brain with a single
sip. Illegals made the rounds with giddy abandon.
Stephano Angelopoulos watched from the booth above the floor. A dark
haired man with classic Greek features, he was considered one of New Yorks
top bachelors. This was his place. Every body writhing down there was
money in his pocket.
He had won big today on a long-term project. An old score had finally been
settled. He should be celebrating. Instead he brooded. Vengence hadnt
proved to be as tasty a dish as he expected, even served cold.
Shaking his head with disgust, Stephano decided to leave the club to the
manager and go home. He wasnt in the mood for the high intensity energy
and noise that made Hades Realm the club of choice for so many of New
Yorks stylish twenty somethings. Maybe at 32 he was just too old to see the
point anymore.
He called for his vehicle and was nearly home when the bomb blast sent
most of those twenty somethings into oblivion.
#
The blast shook buildings for blocks around. On the outskirts of the blast
area, the NYPSD team meeting in a modest apartment felt the tremor.
Seconds later links sounded.
Hades Realm was just destroyed, likely bomb, Peabody said.
Feeney, who still sat at the computer bank, looked up a few seconds later.
Owner is Stephano Angelopoulos. Hes on that list for contract kills.
Lieutenant, whether or not Stephano was there tonight or not, it is a safe
bet that someone thought he was, Roarke point out.
Yeah, got that, Dallas switched the wall screen to the news. Shots of the
blast area were already coming through.
Lieutenant Dallas, Whitney said, as he and Tibble stood to leave. They
needed to prepare for the public onslought. Officially, you remain on leave.
Unofficially I agree with the Fed, shut this down.

Roarke closed the door behind Peabody, McNab and Feeney. He turned to
look at his wife. In the few minutes between the departure of Whitney and
Tibble and the rest of the team, she had tugged on her short hair until it
stood at spiky angles around her face.
Since there was only the two of them now, Eve gave the desk a bad
tempered kick.
Darling Eve, Roarke moved towards her.
She held up a hand to stop him. Give me a moment.
Dallas paced away from the desk and back, giving it another kick.
Lieutenant Dallas, shut it down, she mimicked the government agent. My
ass, she added under breath.
She marched over to Roarke and drilled her finger into his chest. Is this or is
this not the Feds responsibility.
She poked the finger into his chest again for the next point, Shouldnt they
be cleaning up their own mess?
She rammed her finger into her husband again, And if they were doing their
job, wouldnt this have been stopped long before it got into my city?
Restless, Dallas paced away again, muttering, Officially on leave. Means I
cant visit the crime scenes. Have to work everything through other peoples
eyes. Peabodys got good eyes, and getting better. Baxter is good on details.
Hell, all my men are good.
Then trust them, Roarke said.
She turned towards him, I do, I just hell, she sank onto the sofa.
Judging it was safe now to approach his wife, Roarke settled next to her and
took her hands. He studied the finger she had used to skewer his chest. You
need a manicure.
Dallas tried to pull her hands away from, Stop it.
He kept his grip and brought her hands to his lips and kissed each finger. The
eye dye was fading, Dallas noticed as she watched him, the brilliant blue
began peeking through areas of the brown. It reminded her of Galahad, their
cat with bi-colored eyes. For some reason, that soothed her as much as his
lips on her skin.
Youve had a miserable day, Lieutenant. It started early and with
paperwork
Yeah, that sucked, she murmured. Playfully Roarke took his cue and sucked
the finger she had used on him into his mouth. He gave it a quick tongue
swirl. He was rewarded as Dallas relaxed further and leaned into him slightly.
Then came that nasty announcement of our impending divorce.
She was flirting, you know, that girl reporter. And the fake Roarke flirted
back. I wanted to smash her face.
Bitch, Roarke murmured as his lips cruised over her face. I could buy the
station and fire her.
Eve smiled, Ill think about it. Her fingers tangled in his black hair as she
brought her lips to his. When the kiss ended she twisted until her back rested
against his chest. His arms came around her.
They rested for a moment. Eve looked over the apartment. It was slightly
larger than the one she had lived in when they first met, You know, if you
had a regular job and didnt own most of the known universe, wed probably
be living in a place like this. Just you and me and the cat.
And Summerset, Roarke murmured into her hair.
She pinched the hand resting under her breast.
Christ, Eve, he pulled his hand back. Not quite calm, he thought.
You deserved it, for ruining my little fantasy. Summerset underfoot in a
place this size? Its a good thing youre loaded after all.
And thered be no real coffee or chocolate, Roarke teased.
OK, more points in favor of you being the master of the universe. Dallas fell
silent again.
What is it, Lieutenant? Roarke asked as the silence stretched.
She got up and started pacing again. I cant get a handle on it. At first it
seemed like a clear cut killing for hire. You throw in some extras to distract
the cops, but if you can zero in on the core you can catch them. But this
urban terrorism angle...previous cities there were some minor outbreaks, but
nothing on the scale of what they tried at the morgue. There were a few
small bombs, but what happened at Hades Realm is over the top.
Maybe theyre expanding? Roarke suggested.
Dallas turned towards him, Expanding?
Well now, hes been at it a while, hasnt he? Id say hes gathered a team.
Probably started with the group that left with him on the Weapons project.
Hes added others, dont you think. Maybe focusing on disillusioned R&D
people that had their projects pulled or transitioned away from their original
plan, like this Leeann Ross.
Roarke rose and went to the small bar. He poured himself a brandy, after all
his day had been miserable as well.
If you think of it like a business, he developed a niche for high profile
contract kills. Now they have people who can develop weapons, both
hardware and biological and Christ knows what else. Time to expand.
Add in, if it is Peter King, hes probably become bored with how easily hes
eluded the law. Wants to add a bit of spice.
So he showcases his new toys in a high profile city, Eve continued Roarke's
suggestion. Selling them or his services?
Maybe both, but I tend to think hed want to keep intellectual control over
the weapons. After all, whats to prevent the people youre selling them to
from using them on you?
But hes still careful. Although youre on his hit list, he waits until you are
scheduled to be out of town, Eve pointed out.
And he tries to take you out of the game as well, Lieutenant. As hed be
certain youd be distraught at the loss of your gravy train.
Gravy train? What the hell does that mean?
Roarke waved his hand, Money, Coffee, Meat, Chocolate, Mansion, Power..
What does that have to do with gravy or a train? Dallas paced away,
Never mind, off the topic.
So he doesnt want either of us involved, and since he waited till you were
away, he doesnt want us together, Dallas said. Why? How much are you
worth dead?
Roarke took a drink, One billion and some change.
Eve goggled at him. Who have you pissed off to the tune of a billion dollars?
Any number of people, Lieutenant, Roarke smiled thinly. But in this case, I
believe its Naples. Ive managed to block a number of his schemes. If
theyre legal, Ive outmaneuvered him. Illegal ones, Ive taken a page from
my lovely wifes book and done my civic duty. Ive reported the schemes to
the proper authorities.
Eve remembered her helplessness when Naples went under. He had planned
to steal from Roarke during the Magda Lane auction. Ultimately that plot had
led to the death of Roarkes childhood friend Mick Connelly.
That fits, Dallas said, we already know he hires out hits. Professional hit
man, Sylvester Yost, had been brought in to distract Roarke from the security
for the auction. To that end, he had killed a maid Darlene French and an
editor Jonah Talbot, both who worked for Roarke. Hed made a try for
Summerset, who had proved to wily for the killer.
So why arent you number one on the hit parade.
Probably because King, or whoever is running this, did his homework. Ive
cut deeply into Naples business interests. I dont think he could put together
a billion dollars to pay for the hit.
Hed try to cheat a hit man?
Or think he could hold him off long enough to make up some of the funds,
once I was out of the way.
Maybe not as smart as he thinks he is, Eve murmured.
Eve, if this is Peter King, he isnt trained as a hit man. The use of scandals
and gossip, the disguises, all of it is theatrical. Its like hes taking his plans
from vid plots.
Got that, Eve said. In and out in three days, she continued. Keeps the
cops scrambling. Even if they stayed longer, police procedure would have the
us looking for connections between the vics. So far, none of the police forces
in the cities hit have put it together.
You did, Roarke pointed out. What made you look for contract kills?
Dallas shrugged, Once I got the cities from Nadine, I recognized some of the
names killed during that time period. They seemed prime targets.
Roarke contemplated the brandy remaining in the snifter, Ive met Peter
King,
What? Tell me.
When I first came to the states, he had a successful software business
going. I met with him to get funding on a couple of ideas. Id started Roarke
Industries, but it was just in the early start-up phase.
What happened?
He wanted to buy them outright. Wanted to hire me, Roarke finished the
brandy. I didnt want to work for somebody else. He was, what 7 or 8 years
younger than me, not even 20. He hadnt inherited his money, he had built
the business. He was where I wanted to be and he was younger than me.
He shook his head, Among my mates I was always the one who had a way
with a pound. If you wanted to turn your take into gold, go see Roarke.
Suddenly I was facing someone who had gotten there younger than me and
without the dark alleys. It shook me a bit. I actually considered his offer, but
in the end, knew I had to do it myself.
Is that what Jim meant by typical psychological problems of a child genius?
Eve asked, raising her eyebrows in exaggerated curiosity.
Roarke sent her a quick and cocky grin, I did have a bit of a genius for the
game.
Bet.
He came to see me a few years ago," Roarke continued. 'It was just before
you and I met. From Jims timeline, it must have been around the time King
sensed the plug was going to be pulled on his project. I never put it together
when I was called in.
Must have been a hit in the ego, Dallas said. The reversal of fortune.
Aye, Roarke agreed. He pitched an idea to me that time. Roarke Industries
was already working on something similar. He wasnt happy to hear that we
were working along parallel lines.
If he sticks to pattern, I have two days before hes in the wind," Dallas
pointed out. "The body count is already higher here than it has been in any
of the other identified cities. Therell be more.
Dallas walked to the window and looked out over her city. I need an angle, a
string to pull, something that will lead to him ... or them.
Roarke came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. She could
see them mirrored in the glass. They made a unit.
Youll think better after some sleep. The reports will be in from Hades
Realm, Morris will have his results, the lab will have more details on the
weapon. Chances are it was modified from the prototype, his magic fingers
worked on loosening her tight muscles.
More are going to die. I cant get there in time to stop it, Dallas said.
Not in time to save the next one, no, Roarke agreed. But youll stop him.
Well stop him, he turned Eve to face him. Theres a reason he didnt want
us together when he brought this business to town.
She studied him. He looked...tired. She didnt know what his schedule had
been like during the week he was gone, but he had told her he hadnt slept
well. Roarke had expected to be taking a few relaxing days with her, just as
she had with him. He had been slammed with this bizarre situation out of the
blue, the same as her. Youd think a man with the cash Roarke had, would
just say screw it and spend the next few days on a beach somewhere. But
not her man.
Nothing to do tonight, Dallas agreed. Maybe we can both sleep better
tonight...together.
Lieutenant, are you taking care of me? Roarke brushed a knuckle down her
cheek.
Dallas angled her chin up, Something wrong with that?
Roarke chuckled, tapping the dent on her chin, Nothing at all. Lets take
care of each other.
#
Peter King studied his project plan, revisited his work flow. It was clear that
adding the larger terrorism demos to the kills had complicated the operation
beyond his expectations.
His plan to sacrifice the failed RD48 prototype had ended badly. The sims
always had the weapon being destroyed in the explosion of crystals. But
something had gone wrong. Neither Collins nor the RD48 were destroyed in
real life. Collins had followed the backup plan and committed suicide
ensuring he was delivered to the Morgue. Unfortunately, the weapon had
remained in tact.
The Feds were always data mining, King was certain they had picked up the
image and alerted the NYPSD. What other explanation was there for the
sudden decision to move Collins into a safe room?
As a result, he was out a good foot soldier ready to do anything and $20
million. King had considered not paying the last half, but his reputation was
important. The New York take should more than cover the $20 million. After
the dust settled, and the cases went cold, he would slip into the NYPSD file
and find out what went wrong with his plan. Perhaps it would give him insight
on a way to modify the RD49.
On screen, Stephano Angelopoulos was giving an interview while his club
Hades Realm smoldered in the background. Another miscalculation.
During the first six months of his new business, King had developed a
personality profiler program or PPP. He input the behaviors of his targets and
those around them and the PPP predicted the most likely response.
Consistently it proved accurate. Perhaps too consistently, King admitted. He
had become sloppy. In the early days of this venture, he would have kept
eyes and ears on Angelopoulos after he entered the club. Secure in the PPP's
predictions, seeing the Greek going into his club was all he needed to start
the countdown.
The contained bomb was successful as a demonstration, but the hit had
failed.
He wasnt going to make the same mistake again.
He brought Roarkes picture on screen. Roarke had finally attempted to reach
Dallas. Darling Eve indeed, Kings lips curved in derision. The plan to direct
Roarke's call to a pre-recorded message had worked flawlessly.
The PPP had identified Lieutenant Eve Dallas and Roarke as the major road
block to his plans in New York. Dallas already had an impressive closure rate
before Roarke, but after Roarke the speed and accuracy with which she
closed cases rose exponentially.
Cops were usually easy to figure. King had studied police procedure and
understood they had standard processes they followed by rote. An intelligent
man could use that consistency against them. However, when Roarke was
added to the formula, there was an unknown factor, a flexibility of thought
that Dallas had used to her advantage.
Two failures in one day had King wondering if Roarke might somehow be
acting in the background.
His initial decision not to kill Roarke was multi-level. First, it was clear that
the billion dollars would not immediately be available. King could not be seen
as green enough to fall for that scheme.
Secondly, Roarke was no slouch when it came to security. No one was
invulnerable, but with a doubtful payday, it wasnt worth the effort or the
risk. Given Dallas profile, he would have to take her down at the same time.
Otherwise, she would be coming after him with everything she had.
Remaining invisible to cops was vital to his business plan.
Thirdly, King liked Roarke. He remembered when the older man had come to
him with an idea. If Roarke had agreed to work for him, chances are King
Incorporated would be experiencing the success Roarke Industries was now.
He wouldnt have needed that damn government contract. When he went
back to Roarke with an idea, the man had been fair and surprisingly open
despite the reversal of fortunes.
Still, his people on Olympus reported meetings, and Roarke sightings from
afar. However, there had been no 100% confirmed IDs.
If Roarke was on planet instead of on Olympus, perhaps a little hacking
would bring him out into the open.

5:25 AM
The communicator emitted a steady, unfamiliar sound. Eve fumbled for it.
Its mine, Roarke said behind her. They had slept spoon fashion in the
unfamiliar bed.
He located the communicator on the nightstand and frowned at the readout.
What is it, Eve still felt groggy. She pulled herself into a sitting position.
She needed a shower to wake up, but suspected the water pressure and heat
in this small apartment would not impart the same benefits of her home
bath.
A trap...and maybe a way to track it back to the source. Someones hacked
Roarke Industries.
What...is that even possible?
Roarke stood and started to the bath. The challenge of hacking the system
is irresistible. I would have done it myself in my misspent youth. Still do a
couple of times of year, purely for testing purposes of course.
Eve scrambled to follow him. You seem awfully calm about it. From what
was said last night, I thought Peter King was some type of genius with this
type of thing.
If it is King, Roarke ducked under a cool water flow. Theres enough blocks
to have a hacker think they are on the right path and pat themselves on the
back for a job well done. The system locks on to the hackers system, the
deeper they go the more information is stored in the database. Its static, not
dynamic, so the hacker doesnt realize their information is being collected.
What happens when they make it in? Dallas asked.
Hmm, Roarke rinsed his hair.
Dallas moved closer to the shower and shivered when the cool drops misted
her skin. How did he stand the water that cold?
What happens when they make it in?
Come join me, Lieutenant, Roarke shook his head, sending the cool water
flying towards his wife.
Dallas quickly stepped back, barely stopping a yelp, We established
yesterday, that its a tight fit. And its cold. Ill wait.
Ah, well, Roarke began rinsing the rest of his body. Despite the cool spray,
Eve stayed close enjoying the view.
They dont make it in, Roarke explained. He took his time, making sure
each bit of soap was slowly and thoroughly rinsed. He had caught his wifes
interested look, Theres a trip function at one point that leads them to
believe they are being traced. Most of them pull out at that point. If theyre
bouncing the signal enough they feel safe from the trace, it spirals into a
dead end.
Eve handed him a towel as he stepped out of the shower. Roarke tapped up
the heat, knowing his wifes preferences. This system didnt have the voice
command of their home system.
Once she saw the first wisp of steam, Eve stepped under the water. What do
you mean a dead end?
Hacking has a certain style. Systems have certain failsafes. The hackers see
exactly what they expect to see. It leads them to a cyber wall. They think it is
a backdoor and will spend hours trying to find the way in.
But that is not the way in? spoiled, she thought, spoiled by her lovely home
shower. There was a time that this pitiful trickle would have been
satisfactory.
No, no password, no hidden options, nothing.
Despite the heat, Roarke stayed close enjoying the sight of his wet wife. Too
bad, he thought, she didnt take a little more time with the chore.
But there is a way in? she asked.
Aye, Roarke reached for a towel for Eve. This apartment didnt come with a
drying tube. He was making mental notes of upgrades this building needed.
He was going to have to review all the apartment buildings he owned. He
also needed to have a nice long talk with his building management arm.
But one that occurs to very few hackers. The ones that have found it are
now working for Roarke Industries.
More blocks there? Eve guessed as she stepped out of the shower and into
the towel Roarke held for her.
Indeed.
If it's him doing this, hes testing if you will show up, Eve moved into the
bedroom and began going through the much smaller than usual selection of
clothing.
Something might have made him nervous, Roarke agreed. Even if it isn't
him, we should be able to turn this to our advantage. I have a couple of
ideas.
So do I, Eve said as she wriggled into a pair of navy blue trousers.
Roarke pulled a black t-shirt over his head. We can discuss our ideas over
breakfast.
#
5:48 AM
Peabody noticed the evidence of cops sicking up their last meal on the side
of the door. Her own stomach gave a small roll of objection in anticipation.
She had taken this call when she recognized the name Linda Madison from
Dallas hit list. There were more cases than manpower this morning making it
fairly simple for Peabody to get assigned to this case when she requested it.
Taking a moment to fortify herself and seal up, Peabody looked over the data
on Madison. Top Broadway producer with a number of complaints filed.
Seems she liked young girls from rural states with stars in their eyes.
Some of the girls had disappeared after being with Madison for a couple of
months. They remained missing. Others reported abuse, nothing went to
court. Big out-of-court settlements, Peabody guessed. Some complaints were
filed by the girls themselves, some by their families. It all led to a picture of a
woman who belonged in a cage, not a penthouse apartment.
Dallas had provided some additional information from Roarke that
corroborated this when Peabody had contacted her on the new secure links
while on route. Since Roarke owned several theatres and regularly produced
shows, he was familiar with the rumors. As a result, Madison had never had a
piece of one of his shows.
Peabody stepped into the apartment. Sleek gray, black and white with
stainless steel bar and lighting accessories dominated the room. Elegantly
cold, Peabody decided.
Turning the recorder on, Peabody turned slowly in a 360 around the room.
Slowly she approached the body.
Madison may have lived well, but she died badly.
Seated in a plush gray over-sized chair, she stared unseeingly at the wall.
Who was first on scene? Peabody asked the officer standing beside the
body.
I was sir, Officer Knisely.
You confirmed identity and time of death?
Yes sir, he answered. Peabody judged Knisely to be a couple of years older
than she was. She bet he hadnt contributed to the sick outside. His eyes
were a steady gray. His mouth was grim but firm.
Report.
Service droid came on line at 5:05 AM. Top of the line droid, identified a
body with no pulse. Called 911. My partner and I arrived at 05:20. Droid let
us in. Ascertained victim DOS and called it in, Knisely gave the report
smoothly.
Your partner? Peabody looked around, not seeing the other cop.
Ah, I sent him for some coffee. Hes ah training...
And knew enough not to contaminate the crime scene, Peabody filled in
briskly. She had booted a few times outside of the crime scene area in the
past. Today this was her victim so her jittery stomach would just have to stay
under control.
Evidence of torture, but, Knisely swallowed. No signs of restraints.
Peabody crouched beside the body. Knisely was correct. One hand had been
totally crushed but there was no indication of jerking or tearing you would
normally see. The other hand was missing all the fingers. In the blood
soaking the gray carpet, Peabody could see evidence of the amputations. It
looked like the sweepers would be picking up three separate pieces for each
finger. There was no sign of bruising around the wrists, no rope burns. Using
micro goggles, Peabody could not see any evidence of adhesive.
One breast was cut, the other blackened....maybe electrical? A foreign

object, gold in color, protruded from between her thighs. Madison had been
raped by a foreign object. One leg was a mass of wounds, the other the skin
had been removed. Metal spikes had been driven through both feet.
Below the neck was a mess, above the neck, Madison was untouched.
It looks like she just sat there and let them do that to her, Knisely
observed.
Maybe she did, Peabody said, looking up from her crouch. Well have to
wait to get the tox screen, but they may have used a paralytic on her.
Was she alive when they... a young voice asked from the doorway. Peabody
looked up to see Kniselys partner. He actually looked greener than
Trueheart, Detective Baxter's trainee, had the day they met. Probably due to
the green cast to his skin and dilated pupils.
Peabody rose and looked at the cups he carried. Is that coffee officer?
Yes sir, and taking a deep breath, he brought a cup to her and his partner.
With the amount of blood on the floor, Id say her heart was still pumping
through most of it. Well need a determination from the ME if she was
conscious. Peabody kept her voice brisk. She remembered how Dallas
steady evaluation of crime scenes had helped her through difficult moments.
Now it was her turn to get a young officer through this rite of passage.
Detective, Im sorry I... he glanced towards the door. Ive never seen
anything like it before.
Peabody found herself repeating something she had been told, Officer, I
dont care if you boot, as long as you dont contaminate the crime scene. Did
you?
No sir.
Then were good, she took a sip of the coffee and decided it wasnt bad.
She hoped it would stay down. Call in EDD, were going to need security
disks, see who came in and out.
She looked toward the wall Madisons body faced. Theyll need to search
electronic equipment here. Shes facing that direction for a reason, Peabody
moved to the wall. It was a giant entertainment system. Most of it was the
screen with a top-quality sound system. Peabody turned back towards the
body. She studied it for a minute.
Its looking staged, she turned back to the wall, but didnt see what she
was looking for, Im betting theres a camera, or there was. Well need to
see if theres anything posted online.
The young officer hovered for a moment. Peabody moved back towards him.
She plucked the half-drunk coffee from Kniselys hand and handed it and her
own barely touched coffee to the young man, Can you handle that
Officer...?
Trump, sir, with relief he accepted the cups and started backing away. Ill
get right on it.
Knisely and Peabody watched him leave. Thank you, detective.
For?
Cutting the kid a break.
Peabody shrugged, Ive seen veteran cops lose their lunch over bodies like
this. No shame in it, as long as you dont compromise the scene...and can
come back and do the job.
Now, lets finish recording the scene so the sweepers can do their job,
Peabody crouched beside the body again.
Knisely nodded once.
Hoping shed be able to do at least as well as the trainee, Peabody began her
meticulous on-site exam of the body.
#
6:52 AM
The police academy was missing an opportunity, Eve decided. They should
bring in scam artists to help officers learn how to set up a sting. Not that she
hadnt seen Roarke come up with scenarios in the past, it was just ...well she
was usually too pissed off at him or worried about him to appreciate his
skills.
This time they worked it together, refining it, setting it up with both his
people and hers. It was enjoyable, working with him like this. It would be fun
if not for the bodies....maybe she could talk him into working up a game for
them after this was over. Without lives on the line, she could really get into
meshing the way their minds worked.
A different sound came from Roarkes link. They had waited as the hacker
slid through stages, didnt want to alert him before they gathered enough
information to track him back.
Got you, Roarke murmured. Hes far enough in that hell see the first hint
hes being traced. If hes as smart as I expect, hes bouncing the signal. Hell
think hes safe, at least short term.
Right on cue, Eves old link sounded. Block visual, Dallas.
Dallas looked back at Roarke where he sat at the computers. He nodded,
someone was monitoring the communication.
Caros warm tone came through the link, Lieutenant Dallas, Im sorry to
disturb you so early but," Caro hesitated. "Well theres a situation here.
Here? Dallas responded, willing her voice to sound confused and sleepy.
Roarke Industries, Caro responded.
Dallas let loose a bad tempered snarl, So contact the big man himself. Or
havent you been watching screen. Im apparently out.
Lieutenant...Eve, please, Caro shifted into a coaxing tone. Apologetically,
she continued, I havent been able to get through to Roarke since he left
yesterday morning. I just get voicemail. The messages Im getting back dont
make any sense.
Dallas remained silent, as Caro hurried on, I contacted Summerset. He
hasnt been able to get through either. He suggested I try you.
Eve muttered some inventive descriptions of Summerset, then unblocked
video. What kind of situation, Caro?
Someones trying to break into Roarke Industries Computer Systems, Caro
looked put together at this early hour with a pale blue business suit and
carefully coiffed hair. When Roarke had first contacted her this morning to
update her on the plan, she had looked far more rumpled. Her relief at
seeing Roarke and Eve together had been tangible.
So what? Eve asked nonchalantly, bet that happens all the time.
Well, yes, Caro admitted. But hes gotten pretty far in...too far.
Dallas considered it for a minute. Ill call Feeney. EDD can check into it.
Caro looked horrified. If I just wanted to call the police, Id have done that.
Its important that theres an impression that no one can hack Roarke
Industries.
Must protect the precious Roarke reputation, Eve said sourly. Ill ask
Feeney to look into it as a personal favor, keep it off the books, at least for
now.
Without another word, Eve cut communication with Caro and immediately
dialed Feeney. It took several minutes before he picked up. When he did his
eyes were heavy-lidded. Bags you could pack for a trip to Alaska darkened
the underside. His hair had obviously not seen a comb yet today. Unlike Caro,
he hadnt cleaned up for the next phase of the plan.
Christ, Dallas, you may be on vacation but the rest of us are working around
the clock. I just shut down for a couple.
Sorry, but Ive got a favor to ask, a big one, she said. I need you to check
an intrusion into Roarke Industries network.
I thought you were done with that fancy Irishman, Feeney grumbled. Tell
him to call a cop.
Caro said she cant reach Roarke, Dallas said. She put an effort into the
reluctant plea, You know hed handle it himself, if he knew about it. She
wants to keep it under the radar. It would be off the record.
Somehow Feeneys hound dog face sagged further, Kid, were tight right
now.
McNab mentioned a guy had moved into his apartment building that was
interested in being an Expert Consultant Civilian for EDD. Could you leverage
that? Out of shot for the on-screen conversation, Roarke smiled at her usual
title for him.
Feeney considered that. Ill have McNab check in with him. I cant spare
McNab for long, but they know him at RI, Feeney showed a lot of teeth in a
nasty smile. Maybe Roarke will give the guy a job to keep him quiet.
Thanks Feeney, Dallas closed the link and turned back to her husband.
Ready? Dallas asked Roarke.
Set, Roarke brought up a holo image of Olympus and stood in the middle of
it.
Eve started the off-planet call to Darcia Angelo, top cop on Olympus. After a
short wait, Darcias gorgeous face swam on screen. Dallas, whats up.
Darcia had needed no time to spruce up. It was mid-day on Olympus. She
had been up and on duty when Roarke had first contacted her this morning.
She was completely unaware of the news reports. Darcia explained there had
been an interruption with the Earth-side news feeds. There was a team
working on it, but so far they had been unable to identify the root cause and
fix it.
I need to speak to Roarke, Eve said testily.
I dont understand, Darcias brows pulled together in a frown. Why dont
you contact him directly?
Caro and Summerset have tried. It goes to a mailbox, Dallas explained.
Odd, he mentioned hed tried to reach you and got your recorded
message, Darcia moved around her desk and sat.
Eves voice sharpened, He tried to reach me? Ive received no messages.
He was beginning to worry that you hadnt returned his communication. The
news feed from earth has been interrupted, he hasnt been able track whats
going on in the City. I think hes about ready to hop a shuttle home, she
began working the keyboard.
Eve looked confused, But he said... she shook her head dismissing it. Can
you get him?
Give me a minute, the screen went on a hold pattern.
The communication came through the desk unit instead of Dallas unit.
Ready to link? Darcia asked Roarke.
Do it, Roarke said. A second later his image swam onto the wall screen.
The holo image around him perfectly reflected his office on Olympus. Behind
him the window showed the gardens complete with water features. From a
distance you could see the Olympus guests and staff moving down the
paths, sitting on the benches, serving drinks, finding some secluded corner
they thought was private for a few private moments.
Darling Eve, he let Ireland cruise clearly in his voice. Ive tried to reach
you. I suppose you caught a case.

She scowled at him, Dont Darling Eve me, after the interview you gave that
bimbo reporter. Telling Summerset to lock me out of the house, Eve let her
earlier confusion transmute into hurt and anger, I should let your whole
damn business be hacked.
Shock and something, maybe hurt, reflected in those brilliant blue eyes.
What are you talking about Eve?
Caro said someones hacking Roarke Industries, apparently getting pretty
far in, Dallas answered, as if she thought he was responding to the hacking
comment.
Not that, he said. The other, what bimbo reporter? What interview? I
never told Summerset to lock you out of the house. I havent been able to
reach Summerset or Caro or you for the last twenty-four hours.
Dallas studied the face on the screen. She unlocked her knees and sank into
a chair. You didnt give an interview saying you were leaving me?
Eve, Roarke sighed the name. Christ, I need to hold you. He walked over
to the comp unit, the holo image moved with him. That was one frosty unit,
Eve thought.
His elegant fingers ran over the keyboard. Ill be home by tonight. Well get
this sorted.
No, no, Eve took a deep breath. Finish up what you had to do there. Just
do me a favor, give Summerset a call and give him the all clear for me to get
past the gates. I guess youll have to use Darcias unit.
A moment, Roarke said. The screen split and Summersets face appeared.
Roarke, Summerset said, Ive been trying to reach you.
So I hear. Apparently someone has been playing with Roarke Industries
systems, Roarke said calmly. They also are playing with my private life, and
that will not be allowed.
The Lieutenant, Summerset sighed. I suppose it was too good to be true
that you had come to your senses.
Bite me, Dallas said.
Clever repartee as always, Summerset said. I take it that you did not
order her barred from the house? he addressed Roarke again.

I did not, Roarke confirmed. We also need to address the attack on the
network.
Taken care of, Eve responded. Feeneys sending in McNab and an Expert
Consultant Civilian to track the source of the attack.
Cops, Roarke said in a pained voice. Given access to the RI network?
Its not too late to bar her from the house and the business, Summerset
pointed out helpfully.
Something to hide, ace? Dallas asked.
Eve is my wife, Roarke said to Summerset. What is mine is hers.
And no, he said to Eve, Nothing to hide, its the principal of the thing.
Cops, for Christs sake.
A smile spread on Eves full lips, Youve got a cop with full access to your
home.
Aye, he returned her smile, but shes my cop.
Roarke sobered, You sure you dont want me to come back tonight?
Ill take care of the cyber attack, Dallas said, slowly softening towards him.
Itll be easier to coordinate from the house with the equipment there. Well
clear up the other when you get back.
Roarke studied her for a minute, There are a couple of things I do need to
see to. If I push, I should be able to shorten the window. I expect I can get
everything done and be back home in 48 hours. I can handle anything else
by holo conference.
Ill be waiting, Dallas replied softly.
I love you Eve, Roarke said.
Same goes, Dallas replied and ended transmission.
Summerset dropped off the line. Roarke closed off the transmission and the
holo image winked out.
Think it was him intercepting the call? Eve asked.
I hope so. Id hate to think we gave such an award winning performance for
the wrong audience, Roarke crossed to her and dropped a kiss on her
forehead. Youre still upset.
Everytime I think of that damn interview my blood pressure spikes, Dallas
admitted. Someone tried to mess with us and that pisses me off.
Well get him, Roarke said.
Damn right, Dallas nodded. Now its time to suit up. Leonardo swears hes
got something that will make you look like super-geek, Eve found she was
enjoying this.
Roarke winced.
Once youre inside, you think you can track his location? Eve asked.
Eve, please, if youre going to insult me, Roarkes eyes narrowed.
Yah, yah, Dallas linked her arm through Roarkes. You wont just look like
the super-geek because you are the super-geek.
She moved her reluctant man towards the door.

Posted by Cyrex , 08 April 2012 1,185 views
Crack hated opening up the door to his club, the Down and Dirty, at this hour
of the morning. The sun was barely up.
Price of doing business, he thought. Normally he did this paperwork at night,
after the club closed. Nothing about last night had been normal. All the
craziness that filled the city yesterday seemed to distill into his club last
night. Several times during the night, he had been forced to ram two hard
heads together. The resounding noice made it clear where he earned his
name Crack.
Then the reports of the destruction of Hades Realm filtered into the Down
and Dirty. Suddenly no one wanted to be packed into a club. Like rats leaving
a sinking ship, the rowdy crowd had emptied the club in a rush.
Unfortunately two of his girls, Darlene and Elise, had been caught in the
stampede. Crack had spent the rest of the night intimidating the Emergency
Room techs into paying attention to the girls injuries.
While it was easy to ignore a couple of beat up strippers, the big, ugly black
man commanded attention. Finally, he got them treated and delivered home
and was now back at the Down and Dirty to do last nights payroll.
The door stood partially open. Crack tensed, knowing damn well he had
locked up last night. They always say call the cops in case the intruder is still
on premises, but fuck it, it was his place.
Moving with unexpected speed and agility for such a big man, Crack entered
his club. A dark head was barely visible above the bar. Silently Crack, rushed,
jumped and slid across the top of the bar, barely missing the intruder as he
danced out of the way. The man was tall, dark-haired with blue eyes and a
faintly familiar face. He took a stance that spoke of specialized training.
Crack quickly completed the slide, landing on the floor. He stood with his feet
spread and studied the man who had dared invade his territory. The intruder
also sized him up and marginally relaxed. Crack realized he had been found
wanting. He figured the intruder saw a man who depended on brawn and not
brain. Advanced combat techniques would make quick work of him.
Too bad for the intruder, Crack had brains and some training. The two moved
from behind the bar at opposite ends. He was going to lose a few tables and
chairs, Crack figured, but this was going to be fun.
The two rushed each other.
#
Leonardo and Mavis had whisked Roarke into Mavis dressing room when
they first arrived at the apartment. Every once in a while, Dallas thought she
could hear Trinas voice making suggestions. Probably had her on a link
consult, Eve decided. Served Roarke right, she thought, after all the times he
had turned her over to Trinas not so tender mercy.
Fortunately Baby Belle had decided to sleep in this morning. Dallas spent the
time waiting for Roarke updating her Commander on the attack on RI
industries and the little sting operation she and Roarke had run.
That completed, she checked in with her squad for an update on all the cases
generated by this concentrated attack on the city. There were a lot of them
and all over the map.
She ran a comparison of the names on her list of contracted hits for New York
and the dead. The ratio was lower than she expected. Frowning Dallas called
up the victim list, looking first at the high profile names. She scanned
through them, stopping at Donald Flannigan. She knew that name, a
financier out of Dublin.
Dallas called up the list of Dublin contract hits and there he was.
Shit, shit, shit, Dallas chanted. It was a stupid thing to overlook. She ran
the names against the lists she had of the other cities and found ten more
matches. People visited cities all the time. No reason to just target people
where they lived.
She needed all contract hits, not just the ones that matched the cities hit.
Before she could bring up more names the door to the dressing room opened
and a man stepped out.
Tall and slender, brown and grey the man that stood before her was a
stranger. She walked to him then around him. When she stopped in front of
him again, she realized he was a couple of inches taller than normal.
Are you in there? she murmured.
Isnt he totally iced? Mavis asked.
Dallas started at the feet...air skids not Roarkes normal footwear....in neon
blue. The soles were built up to add a couple of inches to his height. The
pants were the latest fad called wave -- shades of blue and green with
periodic abstract whitecaps.Moving in these slacks created the visual impact
of waves. They were subtly too big, adding to the illusion that Roarke was
extremely slender.
He wore two t-shirts in eye-popping colors. There was an undershirt in
orange. Over it was a limegreen shirt with a graphic of some sort of fantasy
hero with sword in hand and busty heroine at his side holding a shield and
dagger.
A simple stripped shirt added another layer and completed the outfit. Again,
slightly too big to disguise Roarkes fit physique and add to the impression of
a tall thin man, trying to be fashionable and failing. Slightly rounded
shoulders told the story of a man used to hunching, perhaps to disguise his
height, perhaps as a result of working over a keyboard.
He wore a cheap wrist unit and a plain gold band, not his real wedding ring.
His eyes were a mild, slightly unfocused grey. They were a dreamers eyes.
The eyes of man who spent too much time in front of a screen.
The fine angles of his face had been softened to a point just the wrong side
of weak. The hair was an unremarkable brown, made a little interesting with
tiny braids.
Eve tried to concentrate on the similarities. The long, clever fingers. The full,
sensual mouth. But everything seemed off, just slightly. This, she realized,
was a better illusion than the gray hair and smelly coveralls.
While she concentrated, the buzzer sounded. Leonardo moved behind her.
After checking the monitor, he opened the door. McNab and Feeney stepped
in.
Wheres Roarke? Feeney asked, he and the kid need to get going. McNab
needs to get him into RI and report back to EDD.
Roarke moved his gaze from Dallas, who continued to study him. He hadnt
spoken until now, Shut down your burners, he said in a broad, Brooklyn
accent, slightly higher than his normal voice. No friction fusing the bundle.
Dallas blinked trying to make sense of the words. Mavis, you broke him.
Ill be damn, Feeney said.
Tech Splice, McNab said reverently, Iced.
Dallas scowled at Feeney and McNab, then back up at Roarke and finally at
the tiny figure of Mavis trying heroically not to laugh. I dont know how you
did it, but you broke them all.
Tech Splice, Feeney explained patiently, is the ultimate Geek jargon.
Roarke decided to take pity on Eve. He straightened, pulling his shoulders
back into their normally firm line. He could do nothing about the invisible
tape that slightly altered the shape of his eyelids, but he allowed himself to
focus on his wife with his usual intensity. We had something like it on the
streets of Dublin, when I was a lad, he said, letting Ireland back into his
voice. Ive kept up on it to understand my own R&D team.
There you are, Dallas murmured.
Its attitude as much as costume that makes the con, Lieutenant. Isnt that
right, Mavis?
Totally, Mavis agreed. Hes good, Dallas...really good.
Mmmm, Eve responded. She found she wasnt comfortable with Roarke
shifting like this. She preferred it when her man looked and sounded like her
man.
Dont worry Lieutenant, I dont plan to make it a habit. Roarke leaned
closer to whisper in her ear. He found it a bit disconcerting to have to lean a
little further down than usual, I prefer you in the costumes.
Dallas snorted a laugh, Men are so simple.
He flashed her a familiar rakish grin.
Ive got a new angle, that will be easier to pursue in my home office. Lets
get moving, Eve nodded towards the door.
Roarke hunched his shoulders and moved towards the door in a long, uneven
gait. Something...maybe where the sleeves of the shirt hit his forearm .
made his arms seem awkwardly long. Dallas shook her head and followed
him towards the door.
McNab and Roarke were out first, talking in intelligible Tech Splice. Dallas
looked at Feeney, Do you understand that?
Feeney drew himself up to his full height. He enunciated each word, I am
the Captain of EDD. Of course I speek Geek.
He took out his bag of candied almonds and offered them to Dallas, Besides,
I wouldnt be able to understand half my boys if I didnt know Tech Splice.
Huh, Dallas thought about it and decided it would just give her a headache.
She declined the almonds and started down the hallway with Feeney, Let
me tell you about my idea...
Leonardo closed the door behind them as they followed McNab and Roarke.
From the babys room, Mavis called out with a hint of irritation, Dallas.
Theyre gone, Baby Doll, Leonardo said. Whats wrong.
Mavis came into the room carrying her small daughter. Baby Belle was
smiling and chanting in a sing song voice shit shit shit.
#
Dallas was daydreaming behind the wheel about a really long hot shower
under multiple sprays when the car link sounded.
Dallas, she said.
Dallas, Peabodys voice came on, Crack just called asking for you. Hes at
the Down and Dirty.
Looking at the early morning light, Dallas frowned. At this time of day? Did
he say what he wanted?
Said he needed to talk to you. Do you want me to take it?
Eve rolled her shoulders, letting the shower dream go. Shed been behind a
desk this whole damn time. Time for some field work.
Meet me there, she told Peabody as she pulled her vehicle in a tight u-turn.
#
Peter King studied the recording of the morning calls. It had been a
calculated risk to invade Roarke Industries. If Roarke was on planet, he was
certain the man would have jumped to the defense of his Empire. Instead he
was now aware of the story King had planted of the divorce and ready to
return home ahead of schedule.
Dallas had access to the house and Roarkes advanced home computers.
Knowing the mans reputation, King didnt doubt that the systems inside the
mansion would be several generations ahead of anything available to the
general public or NYPSD.
The only thing that had gone right was Dallas convinced Roarke not to return
home immediately. King felt confident he would have time to complete the
New York blitzkrieg before Roarke was planet-side.
King found it fascinating that Roarke was less interested in the attack on
Roarke Industries than the attack on his marriage. He had expected the cop
to be thrown off-balance by the divorce announcement, in fact depended on
it. But Roarkes reaction had been unexpectedly strong.
On the surface Roarke and Eve Dallas were an odd pairing. The general
consensus was that he had married her for an in with the police and she him
for his money. King had found that less and less likely as he studied their
history together. But even he had underestimated their apparent bond.
From the day Dallas had moved in with Roarke until today, there had not
been even a whiff of illegal activity from Roarke. Not that there had been a
lot before that...but something would hit the wind then disappear under
Roarkes careful manipulation.
Roarkes reaction to the call confirmed Kings suspicions. Roarke was in love
with his wife.
Dallas didnt fit the image of a gold digger either. Her record with the police
department was admirably free from any hint of bribery. She continued
working at a low-paying public service job with billions at her fingertips.
Since their marriage, Dallas had been beaten and blown-up. If shed married
Roarke for his money, why was she still risking her life? If shed married him
for his power, why was she still a Lieutenant?
It had been hurt that King had seen in her eyes on the screen, not anger at
the loss of money or power...but hurt at the loss and betrayal of her husband.
Lieutenant Eve Dallas was in love with her husband.
The Personality Profiler had given that an 89% probability. When he turned it
up to 100% the two became even more dangerous to his plans, if allowed to
work together.
The early morning call confirmed what King had known for some time. If he
decided he had to take one of them out...hed have to take them both out,
preferably at the same time. He would never be safe if one of them was
allowed to survive.
It was rather romantic that way, King decided. But he preferred his targets to
be the bad guys. He and the other scientists he worked with were completing
their missions. Missions that had been snatched from them due to
government blindness or big business budgets. Targeting Roarke and Dallas
now brought him uncomfortably close to the very people they hunted.
He planned to control the terrorism arm of his venture as well, targeting only
those oppressive businesses or governments. Collateral damage was
inevitable, but could be minimized.
The computer beeped. He was through the next level of Roarke Industries.
King studied the screen. He had accomplished what he wanted when he
started the cyber attack. He didnt need to go any further. Still, it would be a
rush to beat Roarke in his own system.
King started working on the next level.

Posted by Cyrex , 22 April 2012 773 views
Dallas stood with her legs spread, hands on her hips. On the floor before her
was a semi-conscious man swathed in chains.
She had seen pictures of heavy manacles and shackles like this. In the days
before she got into the police academy she had read everything she could
get her hands on that dealt with crime and punishment. She was also pretty
sure they figured in some of the old vids that Roarke loved. Maybe even the
more modern version of historical dramas used them.
They were a lot more imposing in person than on screen or ebook.
The assailant...alleged assailant... lay belly down on the floor. Crack usually
kept a clean place, but it looked like he hadnt had a chance to clean up after
last nights crowd. Might have been why he was here so early, she thought.
Dallas knew she wouldnt appreciate having her mouth and nose pressed
into that floor.
Little son of a bitch thought he could take me in my own place, Crack
growled.
It was obvious to Dallas that the intense physical bout with the man on the
floor had done nothing for Cracks temper. Only someone as big as Crack
would refer to this man as little. Well over 6 foot, broad shoulders. Clothes
hid muscle tone, but if he survived his encounter with Crack, she would lay
odds he was fit. She couldn't see much of his face, and what there was to
see was swelling and bloody.
Whered the chains come from, Dallas asked.
Crack smiled, but it wasnt pleasant, Got a couple of speciality privacy
rooms.
She didnt want to know anymore, Dallas decided. She looked up from her
study of the figure on the floor as Peabody hustled into the bar.
Peabody, see if you can get an ID on him...and get him into regulation
restraints.
The detective folded her lips inward as she looked at the chains, then at
Crack. Reluctantly, he handed Peabody the keys.
While her detective took out the ident kit, choosing to let him remain in
chains a little longer, Dallas started behind the bar.
You say he was kneeling behind the bar when you came in? she asked.
Havent had a chance to check what he was messing with, Crack said.
Crack went behind the bar from the other side. Both of them stopped and
stared at the device sitting on the shelf. Dallas had not seen anything like it
before, but she still had a sick idea of what it was. Pulling out her link, she hit
the number that Roarke had keyed in for her this morning.
Jims bland face came on the screen. There was just a flicker of
something..surprise, irritation...Dallas wasnt sure who he had been
expecting, but it obviously wasnt her.
Lieutenant Dallas, he acknowledged.
She aimed the link towards the object on the shelf, Know what this is?
Either she was getting better at reading him or the suit was slipping, Dallas
decided. She wasnt sure he knew exactly what it was, but he knew enough
not to like it.
A moment, Lieutenant, the screen went to hold colors and bland, mindnumbing music filled the air.
Peabody, get the bomb squad on standby.
Cracks eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head, He was planting a
bomb?
Possible, Dallas answered.
Moving fast, Crack started around the bar, blood in his eye and vengeance in
his heart. Bravely, Peabody put herself between Crack and her prisoner.
You cant beat him up while hes unconscious and wrapped in chains,
Peabody said, sounding more convinced than she was.
It was a near thing if Crack was going to pick her up and move her out of the
way. Peabody wasnt entirely sure she and Dallas could take him down, but
she was certain she couldnt by herself.
The music stopped and Jim came back on the line. Momentarily distracted,
Crack looked back towards Dallas. Peabody took a small breath hoping the
crisis had been averted.
Who is present?
Detective Peabody, the owner of the bar Wilson Buckley and the semiconscious man who brought the device in here.
Dallas glanced at Peabody who was once again trying to get the identity
scan, keeping a cautious eye on Crack.
We are working on identifying the man on the floor, but I would say it is safe
to say he is familiar with the device.
Jim grimaced slightly. Probably running the information on Crack, Dallas
thought.
Privacy mode, please, Lieutenant, Jim said politely.
Apparently Crack had not made it past the security check.
Dallas shifted to privacy mode and moved slightly away. Not too far in case
she needed to help Peabody protect the prisoner.
It is not our device, Jim said immediately. Its been identified as an Israeli
model. The project was abandoned when a new Prime Minister was elected.
How did it end up here? Dallas asked, And what does it do.
Its a targeted explosive.
Dallas caught Peabodys eye. With a slight nod, she changed the bomb
squad standby to on-scene.
Jim continued, It allows maximum damage in a limited range. It removes the
advantage of hiding a terrorist cell behind a school. This device can destroy
the building the terrorists use without excessive damage or loss of life to the
surrounding buildings and residents.
Hades Realm? Dallas asked quietly, turning slightly from Crack. If he
thought this was the same type of device in his place that destroyed the
other one, she didnt know if the prisoner would get out alive. And she really
wanted him alive and in interview.
Unconfirmed...but probable, Jim answered. The project was under the
direction of Nesiah Cohn. She resigned a month after being reassigned to
another project.
Let me guess, prototype and/or notes missing. No one knows where she is?
Jim was back to being unreadable, Dallas realized, Correct. Ill send
someone over to pick up the device.

Never mind, weve got the NYPSD bomb squad on the way, Dallas
answered. Your people can talk to my people.
Its top
Its not our top secret project, Eve reminded him. Unless you want the
government to take ownership of this whole damn mess.
He most definitely did not, Jim thought. Your lab will cooperate? he hedged.
Ill reach out to the lab director, Richard Berenski, personally, Dallas
promised. She hoped Dickheads personality was not common knowledge
with the Feds.
Keep me informed, Lieutenant, he snapped off the communication.
He must think I work for him, Dallas mumbled irritably.
Both Crack and Peabody were watching her. Peabody was taking her time
removing the manacles and shackles, Dallas noticed.
Ummm, Dallas, Peabody started, Names Malcolm Frane. Hes got several
aliases, several warrants and uh, a few complaints filed by Roarke Industries.
Seems he has a history of passing himself off as Roarke to fleece investors.
Now it was Dallas turn to see red, This is the son of a bitch that gave that
interview?
Once again, Peabody threw herself in front of her prisoner.
If I cant kick him when hes down, neither can you, Crack said. But
together, I think we could take her, he nodded towards Peabody.
Dallas felt herself literally vibrating with the visceral need to beat the
prisoner to a bloody pulp. For one moment she could actually see herself
knocking Peabody out of the way and joining Crack in a righteous asskicking.
Then she thought of the bodies being pulled out of Hades Realm. Her early
morning review of squad casefiles. Her men were pulling double overtime
trying to stand for all the people that had died yesterday, last night and this
morning. She thought of the other cities and their dead. There were people
alive right now that were scheduled for death if she didnt stop it.
Damn it, they needed him alive and capable of speech.

The bomb squad came in and the moment passed. Dallas and Crack shared
one moment of silent communication, disappointment and maybe a little
relief that it was no longer their decision.
Peabody, take him to a medical center first, Dallas ordered.
Hes coming around, Dallas, Peabody noted. I dont think hes that badly
hurt.
I dont give a damn how badly hes hurt, as long as he can talk, Dallas
answered. Not calm yet, she decided. I want to make sure he doesnt have a
hidden surprise inside like Collins.
Peabody blanched, Yes, sir.
Reluctantly the Detective began the arduous task of removing the heavy
chains, exchanging them for the lighter regulation restraints.
#
Roarke decided it had proven to be depressingly easy to get him inside
Roarke Industries and through to the network securities department.
True Caro had given the official OK and most of the R&D department knew
McNab, still if his team had followed procedure he would have been asked for
identification. Not that that would stop him. Summerset had seen to an
excellent set of credentials. They should be sufficient to get him through at
least a week before a deep background check would start hitting bottom. But
no one had asked.
Apparently his security was not as tight as he thought. He may keep the
Kevin Brisbain alias just to do spotchecks. Another chime sounded in his link.
The intruder had hit the wall.
Unfortunately he couldnt tie back his hair and roll up his sleeves to get to
work. The tight skull cap gripped his head. The wig with its occasional braids
didnt run long enough to gather in a tie. Leonardo had carefully placed the
roll of the shirt sleeve to optimize the appearance of gangly arms.
He settled for pulling out the keyboard, wiggling his fingers and getting to
work. If any of the employees surrounding him found it odd that he went
manual, they didnt mention it. There was something a little too fierce about
his concentration to question the Expert Consultant Civilian.

#
McNab walked into Feeneys office. Roarkes got something, he said.
Feed him through, Feeney answered. Although the look still came as a
shock, Feeney recognized the steely determination behind the gray eyes.
235 West 46th.
Roarke paused and looked behind him. When he came back to Feeney, And
hurry, we might have a problem on this end.
Behind Roarke, one of the men stood up and moved with unexpected haste
towards the door. Roarke followed, concentrating on keeping the loose,
slightly gangly pace he used for the Kevin Brisbain persona. He caught sight
of the man -- Roarke couldnt quite place the name -- dart into a room and
close the door behind him.
The door was secured, Roarke found. He pulled a PPT out of his pocket and
refreshed his memory. Storage room. Second entrance around the corner. He
started towards the alternate access, thinking this was an excellent dodge.
He missed the flying fist by a couple of millimeters. His last bare-knuckle
brawl had been with Webster when he had come upon the IAB Lieutenant
putting moves on Eve. He had won that fight and he bloody well would win
this one.
Most would respond to the face punch, with a swing at the opponents face.
Roarke used a gut punch, then upper-cut as his opponent doubled over. Off
balance, the man stumbled back a step or two. Roarke resisted the urge to
move in for the kill. A second later he could see he had been right. His
opponent had hoped to lure him unwittingly into tight quarters.
He was no green lad, Roarke thought, to think a fight so easily won. Instead,
Roarke spun into a kick, one of his wifes favorite moves. The other man had
quick reflexes and moved in the direction of the kick. Roarke made contact,
but the kick didnt have the power behind it he hoped.
The problem with a kick, is it left the kicker slightly off balance. The other
man recovered just ahead of Roarke and moved in with a low, head butt.
Oxygen emptied from Roarkes lungs, but he ignored the pain and black
particles spinning in front of his eyes. He wrapped his arms around the mans
waist and pulled him along.
Roarke dropped down backwards, using the impetus to somersault the other
man over his head and slam onto the floor. Now it was time for the assailant
to gasp for breath. Roarke twisted to straddle the other mans chest and
administer three quick, short jabs. Blood spurted from the broken nose.
The sound of pounding feet let Roarke know his security team was finally
responding. As they came into view, Roarke found the presence of mind to
remember he was Kevin Brisbain. Instead of command and a slice of irritation
at the time it took for security to respond, Roarke colored his voice with pain
and shock.
Expert Consultant Kevin Brisbain. Contact Lieutenant Dallas. I think he,
Roarke jerked his head to the bleeding, semi-conscious form on the floor,
was passing information on the network break-in to an outside source.

Posted by Cyrex , 28 April 2012 968 views
They had been fast, Feeney thought, just not fast enough.
The bomb squad, on loan from upstate New York, had worked their way
through three traps. It was a hell of a thing that New York City was spread so
thin, Feeney decided, that personnel had been pulled in from across the
state. What next, for Christs sake...Jersey?
They were inside now. It was clear the suspects left in a hurry, leaving behind
a good portion of their inventory. The CDC had been called in and were
carefully removing vials of unknown substances. You would think the bomb
squad was in a candy store, the way they were treating the 30 or so devices
that had lined a shelf. Lab techs were inventorying the shelf after shelf of
chemicals.
Feeney had to admit his own fingers itched to get into the comp units left
behind. NYPSD had not been fast enough to catch the suspects in their hole,
but they had been fast enough to prevent the total destruction of the data.
He watched the units being hauled away. Intuition blasted him.
Hold it, hold it, Feeney demanded attention as he strode towards the first
computer being removed.
Under no circumstances are these to be put on the network, not the public
or NYPSD networks.
You think they set a trap? Davis asked. After four years with EDD, Davis
had proven a dependable and sometimes imaginative E-Detective.
I think they trapped this place, why wouldnt they trap their cyber space?
Feeney said. Intuition, hunch, years of experience, Feeney didnt know. He
only knew the more he thought about it, the more certain he was.
Pull out a hub, network them together, but keep them isolated.
Surely the firewall...
Feeney snorted, If this is who we think it is, he was cracking firewalls about
the time he was learning to walk. Put in a shielded lab, no wireless access, no
LAN lines. We should have some old hubs somewhere, pull em out and hook
em up.
Yes, sir, Davis said.
McNab, Feeney called, contact the Expert Consultant, Civilian. Let him
know we werent fast enough, but we may still have a job for him.
#
Dallass long legs ate up the distance to the infirmary at RI. She had been
half way home from the Down and Dirty when she received the call from
Roarkes chief of security. Her Expert Consultant, Civilian had been in a fight
with one of the employees and they were both in the Infirmary.
She had fixed the image of Roarke in the Kevin Brisbaine disguise firmly in
her minds eye. As a result, she felt the flood of relief when she saw him
sitting, apparently unharmed, beside a wide desk.
The woman behind the desk had not taken advantage of RIs excellent health
plan to refresh her appearance. Like Commander Whitney, she apparently
preferred to let lifes experiences advertise themselves across her features.
She would be firm, uncompromising, Dallas decided, a stickler for rules.
Lieutenant Dallas? the woman rose to her full height of 62. Im Nurse
Dunkin. I understand you authorized this individuals access.
I did, Dallas nodded. What happened.
Security found both men in the corridor outside of network security. They
had obviously been fighting, Dunkin said with disapproval.
I had tracked the security breach and was reporting it to EDD, Roarke said,
with just a bit of quaver in his voice. He was certain Kevin would be unnerved
by facing down these two strong women. I followed him out and saw him go
into another room. I tried to follow, but the door was locked. Next thing I
knew, a fist came at me from around the corner..
So you say, Dunkin sniffed. But you barely have a scratch on you, other
than your knuckles. The same cannot be said of Mr. Marshall.
You dont grow up a nerd in Brooklyn without learning some basic selfdefense, Roarke told the Nurse, letting a bit of a whine into his voice.
She wasnt buying it, Dallas decided, time to step in, What does Marshall
say happened?
Still unconscious, Dunkin said.
Surely theres security disks....
A man came through the door as Dallas spoke. He was followed by Caro,
looking more harried than usual, The disks have been wiped remotely. Every
damn disk in the building wiped for the past 48 hours. Im Norton,
Lieutenant, weve met before, he held out his hand.
Roarkes chief of security here, Dallas remembered, accepting the hand.
Norton winced, Probably soon-to-be ex-chief of security. Roarke doesnt take
this type of incursion lightly.
Should he? Dallas replied putting steel in her voice while her eyes went
cop flat.
No, no, of course not, Norton agreed. Its just, well Marshall checked out.
Hes worked here three years without any trouble. At Caros suggestion, we
checked his prints when they brought him into the infirmary. The man in
there looks like Marshall, sounds like Marshall, but his prints dont match
what we have on record.
For just a moment Dallass and Roarkes eyes met. Caro, do you have
Marshalls address? Eve asked.
Of course, Lieutenant.
Norton, I assume you will want to keep this as internal as possible? Dallas
said. She continued when he nodded stiffly, then take a couple of men to
Marshalls address. Talk to his neighbors, see if they noticed a change in
behavior and when.

Do you want us to check his rooms, Lieutenant.
I dont have a warrant and youre not cops, Dallas answered, slowly and
clearly. And the cops were spread thin right now, Dallas thought.
Ah, no maam..
Sir, no sir, Dallas told him.
Sorry, no sir. Its just he lives in the Arms. Roarke provides accommodations
for employees interested in optimizing their saving, Norton said. Its
considered a hotel under New York laws. The accommodations are great,
even comes with housekeeping, but doesnt cost much. Lets people who
want to send money home, or save for a big event, hell, even invest their
salaries, live well at low cost.
And as a hotel, they dont have the same privacy expectations, Dallas filled
in. Caro, can you arrange access to Marshalls quarters to Nortons men?
Of course, Lieutenant.
Do it, Dallas said as a couple of med techs came in followed by a couple of
uniforms.
Dunkin, you want to fill the EMTs in on your patients condition and any
suggestions for transpo?
It surprised Eve a little that Dunkin responded with a nod and no comment.
Dallas turned her attention to the two uniforms. Have the prisoner undergo
a thorough internal scan. I want every organ, every anomaly accounted for.
Once hes cleared, get him to an NYPSD facility.
Whats the charge, Lieutenant?
Assault and battery, for a start, she nodded towards Roarke. You up to
filing a complaint, Kevin?
If you think it best, Roarke answered mildly.
Well know more when we find out what happened to the guy hes
impersonating.
Yes sir, the two uniforms followed the path left by Dunkin and the EMTs.
Caro took a deep breath and sat down. You think something has happened
to the real Marshall, Caro made it a statement, not a question.
I think theres a reason the imposter is here and Marshalls not. Eve
confirmed.
I looked over his file when I pulled the prints from his background check.
Caro looked towards Roarke. She knew it must be him, she had set up the
clearance to get him into the building, but wow...
Hes living at the Arms because hes supporting his sister and her 3 kids.
Her husband was killed in a botched mugging in Wichita. Got professional
mother status, but needs a little extra. The oldest is fast tracked for
university. Marshall put in for her to be considered for a Roarke scholarship,
Caro shook her head. I hope they just find he ran off to Mexico...or find him
tied up in his rooms...I dont want to think....
This wasnt her strength, but Dallas understood that Caro needed soothing
and Roarke had to stay in character. That left her. Caro, we dont know
anything about what happened yet, Dallas laid a hand on Caros shoulder.
Whatever it is, you know Roarke will do his best to make it right, as right as
it can be.
Caro closed her eyes and nodded. Yes, of course, youre right.
Dunkin and the EMTs with a stretcher between them holding the
unconscious man came through the room, followed by the two officers. Caro
took a deep breath. I better arrange that access for Nortons team.
She stood and followed the rest.
Roarkes link sounded. He frowned as he read the text message.
My presence is requested at Central. Theyre bringing in the computers from
the warehouse.
Dallas rubbed the center of her forehead. A needle of pain was lancing into
her brain. Our friend, the Marshall substitute, apparently got the word out.
Captain Feeney advised they had missed them, but did score a number of
their toys.
Could you give me a ride, Lieutenant? Roarke asked.
Dallas studied him, this was giving her the perfect opening to return to
Central. Once there, it would only make sense she would interview the
suspects, wouldnt it? That was her story and she would stick with it.
Your cooperation is appreciated. Come on.
He really wanted to touch her, Roarke thought. Watching her take control of
the room, pulling Nurse Dunkin in line. GIving Norton his marching orders...it
all stirred his juices.
Apparently it gave Eve a headache. They probably wouldnt have time to
calm his juices....but he could get a blocker down her, he promised himself.
#
Dallas put the vehicle on auto while Roarkes magic fingers massaged her
tense muscles. Shed even taken the little blue blocker with a minimum of
resistance. Eve began to think of her vehicle as the only safe place in
Manhattan. She missed the limos auto-chef, though. She thought she might
commit several illegal sexual acts for a hit of coffee.
Can you retrofit an autochef? Eve asked with her eyes closed. I mean in
here.
Roarke smiled, I thought excess and luxury embarrassed you. Especially in
your cop car.
I wouldnt stock it with fancy stuff, Eve said, then groaned as Roarkes
thumb circled a spot just at the base of her neck.
Just coffee, maybe pizza...ohhhh right there.
Roarke obliged.
It would be one way to ensure you ate something besides candy, Roarke
murmured against her ear.
And Peabody wouldnt always be nagging to stop at a street vendor, Dallas
pointed out.
They were quiet for a moment, letting the vehicles superior computer nav
unit weave through the bitch traffic of Manhattan.
It was never about hacking Roarke Industries, Eve said, the intrusion.
No, Roarke agreed. He was keeping his anger cold. He worked better when
it was cold. When we find Marshall, well find out how long theyve been
inside.
The raid hurt them. Feeney said they left a lot behind. Will they run? Eve
wondered out loud.
Depends on what the goal is, Roarke said with a shrug. Theyve lost 3
men, Collins, the man replacing Marshall and the man at Cracks.
Frane, Malcolm Frane, Eve told Roarke. The man that tried to blow up the
Down and Dirty...allegedly.
Frane, Roarke repeated, recognizing the name. He had battled a few
lawsuits, personally and under the company umbrella due to Franes
penchant for impersonating him. We know who did the interview with
Channel 63, then. How bad did you hurt him?
Peabody wouldnt let me, Eve said, pouting a little. Crack did a good job
on him before we got there though. And Ill take care of the rest in interview.
If King and Im thinking it is King by the way the hack was run is
looking at this as a business deal, he may cut his losses and move on. I
would. But if it is a mission combined with business...
Then hell stick, Dallas completed. Yeah, thats what Im thinking. We
know he had the weapon prototype and this woman from Israel, a Nesiah
Cohn, had the bomb. Leeann Ross had the virus. Well find more after going
through what was left at the warehouse.
All three had their funding cut by their respective government, Roarke went
on. Theyve got something to prove as well as the financial gain.
Look at us, look at what we can do. Arent you sorry you didnt fund us when
you could get it on the cheap? When you could control what happened to it.
Dallas switched to manual as they approached the parking garage at Cop
Central, The hits, were just financing. What do you call it...seed money?
Why, Lieutenant, Roarke sounded shocked, you might become a business
mogul yet.
Bite me, Eve swung into her parking place.
At the first opportunity, Roarke answered. At the first opportunity he would
also look at retrofitting an autochef into the vehicle. After all, his wife rarely
asked for anything, how could he resist when she did?
#
What do you mean we dont have Brisbaines voiceprint? King asked.

Leo Muldowney was pushing 80 according to his papers, but King suspected
he was actually pulling it. He had 60 years of computer experience at least.
He might not be at Kings own genius level, but you gave him a computer
task and he would do it. Nothing got in his way. The down side of that was
you had to be very specific. He didnt think ahead, only to the task of the
day.
You said to wipe it, I wiped it, Leo said. He took full advantage of face and
body sculpting, it was his attitude that made the man seem old, not the gold
hair and steady brown eyes. Took some considerable doing to wipe
something at Roarke Industries. Had to do a good job of it. If that Brisbaine
tracked you to the warehouse, he could have recovered everything but a
nuclear wipe.
It was his own fault, King decided. He hadnt told Leo to make a copy for him
before wiping the data.
Any link trace for him? King tried a different tact.
No traces on the monitored links, Muldowney reported. Lives in the same
building as that Mavis Freestone and EDD Detective McNab. Must of
contacted him directly.
Any word on the comp units taken into police custody? King demanded.
Cant find them on any network, Muldowney answered. Either their dead
or shielded, off network.
He didnt like it, King thought. Two men down and no report from Frane, so it
may be three. Over half his merchandise left behind at that damn
warehouse. He had started a computer wipe as they walked out, but couldnt
be sure it was completed before the cops got in. Hed hoped the traps they
rigged before leaving would have resolved the problem. Even the tiniest
explosion on the doors would have generated a catastrophic blast, and not a
contained one. It would have wiped out a city block.
But there hadnt been even a soft fizzle, the bomb squad had done their job.
Give Frane another hour. If he hasnt checked in, activate Doctor
Frankenstein.
Behind the artificial tan, Muldowney paled, What if hes just banging a
licensed companion and forgot to call in?
Then hell die happy, King snarled.

Taking the hint, Muldowney left the room, closing the door behind them.
He seldom got angry, King thought. Emotions got in the way of thinking
clearly. But he was working his way to into a major temper.
Hed seen Brisbaine, seen the way he moved, dressed. Brisbaine was nothing
like Roarke. But the man had mag skills on the computer to track King so
quickly. Brisbaine had left with Lt. Dallas to go into Cop Central. He needed
Brisbaine's voiceprint to be certain.
King had an itch at the base of his neck. The kind of tingling he got when he
was being offered a deal too good to be true. That warning that made him
reread the fine print.
Part of his project plan was sending people out in disguises. What would
prevent the cops from doing the same to him?

Posted by Cyrex , 19 May 2012 1,084 views
Dallas link sounded as she and Roarke began walking away from the parked
car in the police garage.
Dallas, Eve said without breaking stride.
Lieutenant, this is Norton. I think you better send someone over here, his
tone was cool, controlled, with just a sharp edge under it.
Roarke and Dallas stopped. Having a problem accessing Marshalls rooms?
Dallas asked.
No, we can get in, Norton said in the same tonelessly cool voice. But I
believe we would be contaminating a crime scene. When the door was
opened there was a, he paused slightly before continuing, a smell. I believe
weve got a someone or something dead inside.
Damn it, God Damn it. Eve thought of Caros description of Marshall taking
care of his sister and her kids. Hold the scene, Norton, Im on my way.
She looked at Roarke, aware of his anger and his regret. He still looked like
Kevin Brisbaine, but Eve could feel his response, she could almost see him
through the appliances and make up. Behind the mild grey eyes, she knew
his flashed with an cold blue fire.
Keeping her eyes on Roarke, Eve contacted Peabody. Where are you
Peabody?
Bullpen, her partner responded. They found a couple of devices in Frane.
Theyre...
You can tell me about it on the way, Dallas interrupted. Meet me in the
garage. Bring a uniform to escort the civilian consultant to EDD.
Uh, yes sir, Peabody said before Dallas cut her off.
Kevin, the NYPSD appreciates your cooperation, Dallas said formally. My
partner will be bringing someone to escort you to EDD. Its difficult to find
your first time at Central.
Uh, Lieutenant, Roarke asked hesitantly in his best Kevin Brisbaine voice,
the man, Marshall, is dead?
Unconfirmed. Thats what I will be checking.
What will Mr. Roarke do?
Mr. Roarke? That must have hurt, Dallas thought. Right now hes off planet.
If it turns out Marshall was killed as a way to infiltrate Roarke industries,
Roarke will move heaven and earth to find the culprit and bring him to
justice. He doesnt appreciate his employees being harmed to get to him. If
he was here right now, youd be working side by side with him in EDD to
track down the SOBs that have targeted our city, Dallas sincerely hoped
this discussion was being intercepted.
Hell make sure the family is taken care of too, Dallas said.
Peabody and a slender female officer stepped out of the elevator. Officer,
take Mr. Brisbaine to Captain Feeney at EDD. Hes expected.
Dallas turned and walked away without a backward glance. She was certain
Roarke had done the same. Anyone watching would not suspect a thing.
#
Marshall hadnt felt anything, Dallas thought. The VR goggles were set to a
relaxation program. It wasnt likely he had heard his attacker or attackers
enter his apartment. The faint prick just below his elbow that would probably
be identified as the source of a deadly cocktail would have become part of
the dream. He slid from life to death unawares.
They were almost kind, Peabody said.
Dallas studied her for a moment, What do you mean?
Most of the scenes have been ugly, Peabody turned a shiver to a shrug
when she remembered the scene this morning. Madison was a torture kill.
Theres been explosions, heads splattering in front of tourists. Baxter and
Trueheart caught a disembowelment. This, she nodded to Marshall, is
gentle.
Very good, Peabody. Any insight on why hes different?
Taking a minute to think, Peabody decided to trust her theory, He wasnt a
target. Marshall wasnt on a hit list. There was no one paying to kill him. His
death wouldnt sell a new bomb or virus. He was just in the way.
She rushed on, Ive been running the kills off the hit lists from all the known
cities. Theyve all got shadows on their records. The ones that werent hit
were either not in the city, clean or confirmed reformed.
You think theyre picking the hits from some sort of moral position? Dallas
continued to study Peabody. What about all the partiers at Hades Realm.
What about Isis and Crack?
Peabody took a deep breath and continued. I could divide the victims in
several categories. I concentrated on other cities, since theyre adding the
weapon demos. Theres the names on the hit lists. High profile kills, they
ramped up for New York. In other cities there were only a couple of extreme
deaths. The ones that were extreme matched the victims alleged crimes in a
twisted way. I think the manner of death may have been a part of contract.
Theres another group thats associated with the distraction. The attempt is
made, but its not as well planned. Theres no follow up if they miss. Its like
the attack is enough. They were trying to distract you so they went after
Nadine, Trina, Isis, Crack. They were trying to keep the whole department off
balance so they went after Tibble and Mira.
Peabody found herself running down. Dallas wasnt saying anything, no
encouragement, no doubt, just steady, watchful cop eyes.
The last group are a kind of collateral damage. Explosions, sniper
shooting..Hades Realm and the virus in Collins would be in this category.
Theyre not being seen as individuals that require moral judgment. By

becoming a part of a crowd, they are only a mean to an ends.
You aiming for Miras job, Peabody? Dallas asked.
Peabody felt her confidence returning, No so, Im aiming for yours.
Well work on refining your conclusions on the way back to Central. Youll
write it up and present it to Whitney.
Me? Peabody squeaked. A whole new set of nerves left her feeling twitchy.
You want my job? Dallas asked, You write up reports for the brass.
Besides, Im on vacation.
Her eyes went back to Marshall. He was reclined back in a sleep chair. The
VR goggles had been removed. There was a small smile frozen on his face.
He was dressed in knit shorts and a Geeks make you Weak T-shirt. Half a
sandwich and a nearly empty tube of Pepsi sat on the small table to his right.
The bread was stale, the artificial meat moldy. A photograph of a woman and
3 children, probably his sister and her kids,sat behind the sandwich plate.
Kind, Peabody had said, Gentle. Maybe it was compared to the torture
murder of Madison, but somehow it seemed worse. They came in and killed
this perfectly ordinary man in his own place. Then they had taken his
identity, in a way put on the skin of this man to play their own games. All
while feeling they had taken some sort of moral high road.
Peabody would be calling his sister and breaking her life to pieces. The
children lost an uncle who cared for them and their future. Tears had glinted
in Caros eyes when she had given Marshalls information. Who knows how
many other lives would be impacted by this one act.
Peabody cleared her throat, Dallas, I know youre on vacation, but since
youre here...Want to work the scene with me?
Dallas nodded, Its your scene. What do you want me to do?
#
Inside the shielded lab in EDD, Roarke dropped Brisbaines persona.
Hes going to be dead, Roarke said to Feeney. Marshall, the Lieutenant is
going to find hes already dead.
Feeney figured the same, Shell take care of him, nobody better.
Roarke acknowledged Feeneys reassurance. After a moment of silence in the
lab, Roarke shook himself, Ah well, lets catch the bloody bastards. What do
you have?
McNab spoke up, Ive cleared the first layer, but cant get deeper.
King had several patent pendings for security programs, Roarke said. Let
me have a look.
McNab rose and Roarke slid into position. He had gotten a feel for King while
tracing the hack at RI, Roarke thought. He looked at how McNab had hacked
layer one. Roarke went after the second layer. It slid and reformed under the
probes. His eyes narrowed and he began mumbling under his breath. If Eve
had been there she would have identified the increasingly Irish flavor of his
comments.
McNab and Feeney glanced at each other. There had been an unspoken
expectation that Roarke would be able to crack . or at least get a handle on
how to crack the system.
An hour passed and Roarkes language had become more inventive and
unintelligible. Feeney may be proud of his Irish heritage but the Gallic in use
now was not part of his vocabulary.
There was a knock on the door. Shut it down Roarke, Feeney said. We
dont want to take a chance of making a connection when the door is open.
Roarke looked up, his eyes refocusing on the room. What, oh, aye, he did
the shutdown. Locating and connecting to hotspots, towers and in some
cases satellites had been an intrinsic part of computer for the past 30 years.
There were software blocks, of course, but the shielded room was the only
way to be 100% sure there would be no connectivity.
Feeney opened the secured door and Dallas came in. As soon as the door
was closed, Roarke stood, Marshall?
Im sorry, Roarke. From onscene investigation hes been dead thirty eight
hours. If it helps, he probably didnt feel a thing.
It doesnt, no. Hes dead because King wanted to keep an eye on me and
mine. Since he was already standing, Roarke moved away from the unit he
had been working on and began prowling the small lab.
Anything to report? Dallas asked Feeney. She tried to unobtrusively track
Roarkes movements.
Machines are hooked to a hub, so theyre networked. But no connectivity
outside this lab.
Have you found anything that will help us track Kings location or get a leg
up on his targets? Dallas asked. Computers were outside her expertise. She
did know they had some of the best minds to crack this case in the room.
Feeneys hound dog face sagged further. McNab cracked the first layer but
after that we cant through.
It requires you follow a precise series of codes. Miss one and youre back to
square one and the path is reset, Roarke said, glaring at the systems. Its
bloody brilliant.
It doesnt destroy the data, Feeney continued, like most locks today. It just
buries it deeper and deeper and keeps changing the path to it.
How would King be able to know which path to take? Is it a set order
or....What?
Feeney, McNab and Roarke were staring at her.
Thats an excellent question, Lieutenant. There must be some sort of key,
Roarke said. Dallas caught the excitement of a predator that had caught his
preys scent in his voice.
Should have thought of it myself, Feeney said.
But it could be anything, McNab protested. It could be something he
carries with him. Some systems send codes to your link. Not this fancy but
.
The codes are still generated by some application running on a server,
Roarke said. Wed need to locate the server.
Feeney felt the excitement escaping like air in a balloon. Weve got all the
equipment from the warehouse here. If its on any of the units, you need the
damn key to get the key.
Dallas looked at the 12 units set in a circle and frowned. Then she saw the
unit sitting off in the corner. Whats wrong with that unit?
Hmmm, nothing, McNab said. Its just not fully loaded, a thin client.
English, McNab, Dallas said.

Its used to access systems online instead of on the unit itself. Businesses
use it to reduce cost, control licensing, limit access. The software isnt on the
system.
Feeney and Roarke exchanged a look. What are the odds? Roarke asked.
We did discount it, hiding in plain sight, Feeney pursed his lips studying the
machine.
What? Dallas demanded.
You, Lieutenant Dallas, Roarke said, may have just outwitted a computer
genius.
Now get out before you take my job, Feeney said.
The three men converged on the unit in the corner. As she unsealed the
door, Dallas could swear that Feeney was rubbing his hands together in
what...anticipation...glee... Weird. As if she would want Feeneys job.
#
Dallas reported to Whitneys office. The message had come to her link on the
way to her office. The doctors had finished with Frane and certified that all
devices had been removed from his body. They were at the lab now. She
wanted him in interview.
The Marshall impersonator had been identified as David Freise. His sheet
included 3 counts of computer fraud for which he served three years. He had
worked at Roarke Industries for two months for a contracting company. He
applied to be hired permanently, but didnt pass the background check.
Once the doctors cleared Freise, shed get him into interview as well.
Vacation be damned. If everyone wanted her to end it, they better put her
back on the clock.
And she better take a breath before going through the door.
Whitney sat at his desk, face non-committal. The dark-haired man that sat in
front of Whitney did not react to her entrance.
Have a seat, Lieutenant Dallas, Whitney said, motioning with a slight nod
of his head to the chair next to the stranger.

Dallas usually preferred to stand when talking with Whitney. He wanted to
keep this more informal, she sensed. When she sat and turned towards the
man next to her, she knew why.
Stephano Angelopoulos, owner of Hades Realm. His handsome, strong
features were set in uncompromising lines. Her mind automatically went
through what she knew. On the surface he was a womanizing multimillionaire...maybe billionaire, she hadnt gotten into his financials. He
specialized in clubs worldwide similar to Hades Realm. There were some
darker clubs that catered to the bondage and domination crowd.
Drugs and unlicensed companions were suspected. There were whispers of
white slavery, girls going missing after a few days in his employ. EMTs made
regular visits when the Masters became a little too enthusiastic, ignoring safe
words...that is if the willing submissive bothered to murmur it.
There were rumors that he meted out harsh punishments if you crossed him.
There were a few ventures that crossed with Roarke. When she had called
him on it, Roarke had shrugged, reminding her you couldnt believe every
rumor that circulated in the law enforcement grapevine.
Mr. Angelopoulos, this is Lieutenant Dallas, Whitney said, not bothering to
identify her position in the investigation. Please tell her what you told me.
He turned and focused his dark eyes like lasers on her, Roarkes cop. Or at
least you were Roarkes cop, Stephano mused remembering the broadcast
yesterday.
Im my own cop, Dallas said.
He ignored that, Probably more flexible than your average cop.
Dallas didnt respond to that. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that
Whitney remained very still.
Before I start, let me say that nothing here can be used against me. My
lawyers have written up an ironclad agreement that has been signed off by
the Chief of Police and State Attorney General.
Whitneys slightest nod affirmed the statement.
Dallas didnt respond. She kept her eyes level with his, waiting.
Ten years ago a disservice.... was done to my family. As a result, Ive

been planning the downfall of the family that caused it. Yesterday was the
successful culmination of my plans. I do not think it was a coincidence that
my place blew up last night. Especially since I was scheduled to be there all
night.
Why werent you? Dallas asked.
Stephano settled back in the chair, I did not find the results as satisfying as
Id hoped.
Fast window to set up the hit on your place, Dallas pointed out.
I suspect it had been planned for some time, he replied. I understand
there has been a price on my head for several months. The people I was
after could see what was coming but could not stop it. That was part of their
punishment.
You kill anybody in this revenge plot?
No.
You know who put the contract on you?
Yes, the Symone family.
Do you know who attempted the hit?
That, Lieutenant, he said calmly, is your job.
What do you know? Dallas demanded
That the contract is still open. That there is a reasonable chance that they
will come for me again. That I could prove excellent bait.
Dallas studied him. He hadnt told her anything she hadnt already
discovered last night. She wasnt Mira, but her impression of the man had
been he would be relentless and he took no insult lightly. Roarke had agreed.
The cold, black bottomless eyes told her she had a choice, use him or he
would go rogue looking for the bomber on his own.
It would mean having one or two cops on duty around you at all times.
Unlimited access to your business and files, she warned.
That was the purpose of the lawyers, he answered.
Why? You havent exactly been an upstanding citizen up to this point. Why
would you put your life on the line?
Stephano leaned forward. He kept shifting, Dallas thought. Playing a role?
Cool and confident, in charge, earnest? Or was it real discomfort?
He rested his elbows on his knees, never taking his eyes off Dallas. I
watched the media reports on the Cassandra bombings. I remember you and
Roarke exploding out Madison Square Gardens. Your hands were clasped
together and there was a child draped over Roarkes shoulder.
It played for days, Eve said with remembered disgust.
They followed Roarke because you were behind police lines. He found the
kids father, helped with the medical triage, pulled in food trucks at his own
expense. For days, weeks afterwards I heard stories of Roarke helping out
people, his employees, visitors...it didnt seem to matter if they were injured
or someone they knew were injured or lost, he tried to help them...jobs,
money, counseling.
Shed known some of that, Dallas thought, but not the whole of it. Pride
settled into her heart. Shed take it out and look at it closer later.
I couldnt figure the angle, Stephano said. Now he dropped his eyes to his
hands. Great PR, of course, but most didnt make the news. Certainly it
wasnt part of any of Roarkes ad campaigns. It had to be hellishly
expensive.
A few months later, a deal came up with Roarke. I took the opportunity to
ask about it. He said they were his. They worked for him or were putting
money into what was his. He owed them safety, he looked back up into
Dallas eyes. I thought hed gone soft and stupid. Started rethinking the
deal.
Last night, I was relieved to be alive and pissed at the loss. I stood outside
the hulk of my place and didnt see people or even bodies, just lost dollars.
He fell silent, sinking into the memory. Whitney said nothing. Dallas let the
silence stretch.
Taking a deep breath, Stephano continued. I was walking away to get into
my car when I heard something.
Unexpectedly he stood and paced around the chair. He went to look out the
window. He didnt see the bright day, the air traffic, the billboards, he saw
the dark street, smelled the chemicals mixed with brick dust, heard the sobs.
A group of young people on a graduation trip to the city had decided to

party at Hades Realm. Twenty-seven kids blown to pieces. Two parents had
accompanied them to the city. They had let them go alone to Hades Realm.
The two women were sitting together on the stoop just outside the police
tape. The sound..-hacker-ist it was as if their souls were being wrenched from
them. I walked by them. They were nothing to me. Their children were just a
400% markup to my profit margin.
He fell silent again. After a few minutes contemplating the scene below, he
turned back. Male/female, Commander/Lieutenant, both watched him with
cool, flat eyes. Cops, he thought, his pulse kicking up a pace at what he was
doing. He was laying himself bare before cops.
I went home. I pulled up records. The security files are uploaded every 30
seconds to a central server. Its too easy to wipe discs, he said with a shrug.
You have recordings of the bomb being placed? Dallas asked sharply.
Probably, Stephano responded broodingly. Thats what I was looking for.
My security team may have already found it.
I was in a rage, Lieutenant Dallas. Someone had attacked me, someone had
dared come into my place and destroy it. No one, Stephano said with steel
in his voice, is allowed to do this unpunished.
That is my job, Dallas said, echoing his earlier comment.
Somewhere he found a smile, No, your job is to catch them, the courts job
is to see them punished. I do not always agree with how the court does it
job.
All my security procedures, all my money and I could not protect what was
mine. I was thinking of that when the graduation class came in on the
recording. So young, so alive, so excited to be in my club. I had the sound
turned off. Even if it had been on I couldnt have heard them in the crowd,
but you can see they were laughing, shoving each other in the way of the
excited young. They went to the dance floor even before the bar and broke
into the gyrations of the latest craze. Suddenly they were mine, too.
He wasnt smiling now, Dallas thought. He was angry and something else
bewildered?
Roarkes words came back to me. I had not only failed to protect my
building, my investment, I had failed to protect the people who worked for
me, who came into my place. Id always thought of security as a way to
protect myself. While watching the dancers, the waitresses carrying drinks
through the crowds, the lovers stealing a kiss, my perspective shifted.
Stephano paced back to his chair and sat, The bodies I had seen earlier in
the night, changed from lost dollars to the people on the screen, to lives
entrusted to me for a few hours, lives I had failed. The sobs of their families
and friends kept echoing in my ears.
Im sure you know, Lieutenant, that I am from a wealthy family. Money has
always resolved everything for me. Throw enough money at a problem and it
will go away. So I did what I knew. This morning Ive set up a trust for those
killed in the bombing. Their friends and family will have the assistance they
need.
I realized money wasnt going to be enough, Stephano said fiercely. If it
had been a random bombing, maybe it would. But they are dead because
someone was coming after me. They were coming after me because of
actions I had taken. I cant fix it, I cant go back and stop it, I can only help
stop them from doing it again.
Dallas remained silent, studying him. It was clear from Whitneys continued
silence, he was going to let her make the decision.
Use me, Lieutenant. Well both get what we want.
Did you do the deal with Roarke, the one you were reconsidering? Dallas
asked.
Stephano stared at her a moment. He leaned back in the chair and closed his
eyes. The shift in his body told her he thought she was turning him down.
Hes got the Midas touch, Stephano answered. In the end I decided he
could dress up like a leprechaun and ride a unicorn as long as I got the pot of
gold.
Would you agree to a thorough physical? Dallas wanted to know.
Stephano straightened, surprised by the question, A physical?
There are unusual aspects of this investigation I am not at liberty to discuss
at the moment, Dallas said, watching him closely. I dont know how or if I
can use you, but to make it an option, I need you to get a physical. We can
use the police scanning facilities, Dallas added with a quick look at Whitney.
A look of mild disgust passed briefly over Stephanos features, I suppose my
personal physician is out of the question.
Afraid so, Dallas agreed.

Whatever it takes, Lieutenant.
He stood and offered her his hand. Dallas also stood and accepted it.
Whitney spoke quietly into the interoffice link. He turned his attention back
to Stephano, Theres an officer outside who will take you to the physical
scanning facilities. You will be expected.
Thank you, Commander.
Whitney and Dallas watched him leave. When the door closed Dallas turned
back to Whitney, Do you believe him?
I believe hes angry and wants to catch the people that blew up his club,
Whitney answered. The rest, he could be telling us what he thinks we want
to hear. Hard to tell by that performance.
Exactly, Dallas agreed. She took a deep breath, Commander, Im officially
requesting that my leave be cancelled. Theres two men waiting in
interview...
Granted.
What...?
Dallas pulled out the shot of five nanites.
EDD and the lab techs got all excited when these, she tapped on the
picture of the larger devices, broke into these, indicating the nanites. It
explains how the explosives were going to be triggered.
Explosives? Frane nearly squeaked. Dallas could smell the fear sweat now.
Your new employer likes to blow things up, I guess, Dallas said. Saves the
severance pay.
Youre lying, Frane stuttered. Cops are always lying in interview.
True, Dallas said cheerfully. But in this case, I dont need to. Youre in a
cop shop. Your main contribution to the plan was the Roarke impersonation,
the rest has been busy work for a man of your skills. How many times do you
think your employer will need you to impersonate Roarke? Youre dead
weight.
Take you out, Peabody continued, take out part of Cop Central.
Got another one of your co-workers in here, Dallas continued. His implant
was activated as well. When your implants didnt work .
Dallas tossed a shot of the scene in Little Italy, I guess your employer got a
little impatient.
Gabrielle Laurenti, Dallas added her image to the stack on the table, had
just entered a market there. Explosive trace matches what was in your
implant. OK, she didnt have that report yet, but she was sure it would
match.
Dallas settled back and gave Frane time to look at the images.
The little fucker, Frane said.
Its an offense to provide false or misleading information in interview, Mr.
Frane, punishable by no less than 2 years and no more than 5 years in jail,
Dallas said. Do you care to amend your earlier statements?
It was all so simple, Frane said. He said I could pay Roarke back, mess
with his marriage, probably drive down his stock prices. Make his life as
miserable as hes made mine.
Who said? Dallas pressed.
King, he said his name was Peter King.
Gotcha, Dallas thought.
Youd think Roarke would understand, now Frane was whining. I was just
making my way in the world the best I could. I didnt take more than anyone
could afford.
Not exactly true, Dallas thought. She had looked over the records. Frane
spent most of his efforts defrauding the upper middle class. He couldnt go
after the truly wealthy, they knew Roarke. It was the up-and-coming or
wannabes or the get rich quick crowd that flocked to his bogus investments.
His marks frequently bet everything on the scheme, depending on Roarkes
Midas touch. Life savings, homes, families were lost.
In a way, Roarke probably did understand, Dallas decided. His efforts
recently had been focused on blocking Franes attempts to impersonate him.
Roarke Industries had brought charges and suits against Frane, but the fact
that he was free spoke to Roarke not putting his full weight into the effort.
Lets start again, Dallas said. From the top. How did King contact you?

Posted by Cyrex , 09 June 2012 833 views
Dallas sat quietly as the officers and Peabody took out Malcolm Frane.
She should be wanting to dig into his liver with a spoon. He got into this
whole mess because he wanted to jerk Roarke around.
But he had been played by a master manipulator. Give a guy like Frane the
promise of big money and a chance at payback and you had an A1 patsy.
Frane had fallen for Kings line as eagerly and blindly as his own marks had
fallen for the investment schemes Malcolm had created in his Roarke
persona.
He had fallen head first into a deep pool and didnt even know he was
drowning. Frane believed, or wanted to badly enough it was the same thing,
that he was working on some secret operations. His ego was stroked, after all
he had learned a dozen different languages, a couple of martial arts
disciplines, knew his way around computers slightly more than your average
corporate exec, all to shore up his Roarke persona. With all the information,
that ability to learn, that skill to imitate, he would be invaluable in this and
future ops.
So valuable, Dallas thought, he had been fitted with explosives. Shed bet
half Roarkes fortune, the scientists werent boobytrapped. Collins might
have had a virus hidden inside but no explosive. Wouldnt it have been easier
to blow him up and spread the virus that way? But his service record was
respected. It added weight to Peabodys moral judgement concept.

Frane saw the con clearly enough as he soon as he looked at the explosive
implants. Shed expected him to demand a lawyer, to hold out for a deal. He
hadnt. Smart in its way. Added weight to his innocent dupe excuse. No
violents on his record. Provided he testified against King, hed probably get
little, if any, jail time.
Little worms, big fish.
The door opened and Baxter stepped in. He dropped into the chair vacated
by Frane. Dallas wondered if she looked as tired as he did. Normally slick and
edgy, Baxter sported dark bags under his eyes. Hed lost his suit coat. His
light blue shirt was wrinkled and Dallas thought she saw a coffee stain that
someone had tried unsuccessfully to rinse out.
Freise lawyered up, Baxter said. Tried to convince us he was friends with
Marshall and was just covering for him. For what its worth, I dont think he
was in on the kill.
Frane had been provided with a cover story, too, Dallas said. He says he
thought he was bugging the place, told the Down and Dirty was suspected as
a hub for arms dealing. His cover was the owner of the D&D was concerned
someone was ripping them off.
Think he knew it was a bomb? Baxter asked.
Dallas shrugged, Gut feeling....no. Nothing in his record leans in that
direction. She rotated her head, her neck popping loudly. On the other
hand, I may just be seeing what I want to see. Too many damn angles in this
thing.
The door opened again and Peabody stepped in. Frane is booked and has
requested an attorney. Ones on his way. She looked at Baxter, Truehearts
looking for you, Freises attorney is asking for a meet.
Wearily Baxter stood, The fun never stops.
When he left, Peabody closed the door, McNab contacted me, asked us over
for lunch.
An eyebrow winged up in surprise. Lunch? Dallas asked, It must be, nearly
3.
I figured it was code. I think theyve got something.
Maybe Callendars trace yielded something.

Lets go.
#
The door to the shielded computer lab stood open when Dallas and Peabody
reached it. They followed their noses to a small break room where it
appeared the entire EDD crew was chowing down on pizza.
Maybe it hadnt been code, Dallas thought, as she scooped up a large slice of
pepperoni. How the hell had Roarke managed this without breaking cover?
It did no good telling him not to feed cops. Over the past couple of years
Roarke had developed a compulsion to keep cops fueled. Dallas suspected it
was his way to ensure she ate.
She scanned the crowd for Roarke and didnt see him either as himself or
Brisbaine. Peabody bit off a piece of veggie pizza...and what was the use of
pizza if it didnt have pepperoni, Dallas wondered...while talking to McNab.
The E-Detective wiped a bit of pizza sauce of the corner of Peabodys mouth,
with easy familiarity. Feeney moved to Dallas side. Caro had this catered,
he said. Thanks from Roarke Industries for tracking down and closing down
the hack.
Dallas swallowed. Wheres the man of the hour then, she asked. Brisbaine
did the e-work.
Bathroom break, Feeney answered with a shrug.
Huh, Dallas took another bite of the pizza. Did Callendar report in?
Got here about the same time as the pie, Feeney answered. Took down
three slices in a couple of minutes, he chewed contemplatively. Ah, to be
young.
Dallas finished off her slice, Think I could stand a bathroom break myself.
She strolled out of the breakroom to the hallway. After a quick check, she
went into the one marked Men.
Roarke was leaning against a stall door, working his PPC.
Lieutenant Dallas, I believe youve selected the wrong door. I understand

even the police have standards.
Her wrist unit indicated there were no bugs, at least not the listenng kind, in
the room. She went up the row of stalls opening doors ensuring that no one
else was in the room.
Christ, this is worse than the womens facility. Now that she was sure they
were private, she looked around the room.
Men, Roarke said, are pigs.
No argument. You working on Callendars find?
Feeney already sent a team to put eyes and ears on the place. I was doing a
run on the building. Its owned by Leo Muldowney, Roarke was frowning at
the PPC.
You know him? Dallas asked.
He led the opposition to Compuguard. Complained that Compuguard would
prevent the free exchange of ideas. Infringement of rights, curtailment of
freedom and so forth, Roarke looked up from his PPC. I agree with him.
Dallas thought of the unregistered in their home. Something had to be
done, she argued. Free exchange of ideas included instructions for building
bombs, posting illegally obtained top secret information. It didnt stop
terrorism or treason, but it made it less available.
We may have to agree to disagree on that, Lieutenant. Still, its a shame to
see him involved in this.
Peabodys got a theory, and I agree with it. Theyve built themselves up as
some sort of vigilante group righting wrongs done. The story they fed Frane
sounded like something out of a vid. A brave group of scientists banding
together to make the world a safer place. Still have to make money, but you
can do that by taking out bad guys, Dallas said.
Roarke considered, I can see that appealing to someone like Muldowney. He
very much saw himself as a freedom fighter and the world government
organizations as oppressive dictatorships.
Did you get into the computers, identify their targets?
We did, Roarke verified. As a number of their explosives and biologicals
were confiscated in the raid, its unlikely they will be able to follow through on
all of it.
Get what youve got together. Im booking a conference room thats bug
free... or will be. Kings been running this game too long.
Yes sir, Lieutenant, Roarke muttered as she left the restroom. It was
useless to complain about the tone or order, he thought. Command came as
naturally to her as it did to him. She was on the trail. Now that she had the
scent, very little would get in her way.
With a sigh, he pocketed his PPC and went to find Feeney. He had his
assignment.
#
King stood with his back to the bay windows. The afternoon light made a halo
around him. From this position he had the best view of the monitors
displaying the remote attendees. With the loss of equipment caused by the
warehouse raid, King didnt want to devote time or energy to setting up a
holo conference. To his left was Leeann Ross, a tidy redhead with freckles
and sandy eyebrows. She could create and cure the deadliest viruses on
planet.
Next to the ethereal Leeann sat the solid Nesiah Cohn. Her thick black hair
was cut in wedge. Solid brown eyes weighed and judged everyone she met.
In her 50s she was built like a solid block, no curves to weaken the
impression. The implants used on the expendable foot soldiers were a
collaboration between King and Cohn, with Cohn providing incredibly
powerful explosives and King devising the nanos that would trigger them.
The next three seats hosted two former U.S. Colonels and one British
Brigadier.
On the right Alistair Pertwee lounged negligently. Pertwee worked for fifteen
years with the British government. His crowning achievement, a guidance
system that made prior claims to pinpoint accuracy laughable, was shelved
two weeks prior to the final demonstration. The contract with the company
building it had elapsed. The decision was made for financial reasons not to
continue the project with the new company.
Pertwees easy going manner had led his employers to believe he didnt
care. Three months later he walked out of the secure facility leaving chaos in
his wake. Every top secret project had been wiped, but not before Pertwee
had downloaded it. He reasoned there was no guarantee that the British
government should use the research, so why should they get to keep the
research?
Next to Pertwee sat Leo Muldowney. Muldowney read and wrote computer
code better than most people did their native language. He had been an
intellectual freedom fighter for decades now. He might be too literal for
Kings flexible thinking, but give him a problem and he could find you a
resolution.
Beside Muldowney was Russell Pewter, Leeanns assistant. Young and eager,
his hopes had been dashed when the virus project was pulled. He had been
more than open to moving into the private sector.
Former Prime Minister Justin Lowell sat stiffly to Russells right. Three years
earlier he had suffered an inglorious defeat at the hands of the labor party.
Convinced that a robust military was essential he had vigorously opposed the
termination of several military contracts, including Pertwees. He was not
comfortable with the vigilante nature of their operation, King knew. It might
be necessary to eliminate Lowell one day. But in the interim Lowell
understood the inner workings of government. He had proved to be
invaluable in identifying ways to bring the wheels of government to a halt.
At the end sat Don Carlos Mandaris. Mandaris had . contacts that proved
vital. Without Mandaris King did not know how long it would have taken to
see a profit on the assassination for hire startup. Mandaris also found the
foot soldiers required for a successful operation. He represented the black
ops portion of their little group.
There were more of course, but these were the first and the core of the
group.
On one screen Riley Sinard stared unblinkingly toward the camera, hands
behind his back at parade rest. In the background the Olympus Gardens
beckoned. Mei Zhangs perfect Oriental features filled the second screen.
She sat in a vehicle with nondescript grey upholstery. Nothing showed on the
screen to identify her location. These were the lynchpins of Kings new plan.
Slightly clearing his throat brought all eyes to him.
New York has presented some unexpected challenges. Based on what has
occurred, the plan has been re-evaluated.
The NYPSD has been extremely successful in identifying and intercepting
our operations. We have had two unexpected losses, both associated with
Lieutenant Eve Dallas. It was anticipated that Lt. Dallas would attempt to
interfere with our operation so attempts were made to remove her from the
equation. That has proven unsuccessful. She is now reportedly back on the
job and conspiring with one of our targets, Stephano Angelopoulos. We have
no choice but to remove her permanently.
Sinard spoke, What of Roarke?
From all indications Roarke is still on Olympus. It is likely if Dallas is killed,
he will seek revenge. You will need to eliminate Roarke as well, King said.
There is a bounty on his head. We may have difficulty collecting it, but it will
give us the opportunity to aggressively pursue payment.
Hes slated to leave by shuttle within the next hour, Sinard said without
inflection. His departure was moved up because of the trouble in the city
and Roarke Industries.
Is that a problem? King asked.
Not for me, without another word Sinard ended transmission.
King turned his gaze to Mei Zhangs tranquil face. I am still concerned that
Roarke may be on planet and using decoys on Olympus. He also has an
employee of unknown background that he reportedly confides in. We will
take out his base and his man Summerset. It is likely if he is on planet he is
operating out of his home. I understand he has superior computer
equipment, probably cloaked from Compuguard.
How long for you to be in position? he asked.
The truck will be in place within 20 minutes. The launcher will take 35
minutes after that to set up, Zhang replied in a voice whispery soft.
Do it, King gave the goahead. Without another word, Zhang ended
transmission.
Zhang will be demonstrating the urban launcher. Roarkes security will be
useless against this type of attack. Corporal Lansing, do you have the sniper
on alert?
Hes ready. We just need the target location, Corporal Greg Lansing replied.
KIng nodded. We need to give Zhang time to setup the launcher. It is
imperative that the police, national guard or whoever the hell else the city
has called in, do not have time to investigate reports of suspicious activities.
They must be fully occupied. Brigadier Taylor, are your men ready?
They are.
King took a moment to study each member of this inner circle.

We are behind schedule. Less than half our targets have been hit today. It is
essential we do not appear weak. We have a mission too important to fail.
We will be making up for that loss time. Within the next hour, the city will be
crippled, Lt. Dallas and Roarke will be reduced to footnotes in history and we
will be able to name our price.

Final shuttle countdown stopped at 0 minus 6 minutes. One of the engines
did not respond correctly.
The Olympus repair crew entered the shuttle bay and opened the third
engine compartment. Diagnosis was run. Two parts were replaced.
As Sinard closed the compartment, a third item was left behind, armed and
very dangerous.
He exited the bay with the rest of the crew. The countdown started again.
#
Zhang drove the truck through the gates of the Lyle estate. The Lyles
property sat adjacent to Roarkes estate. At the first sign of trouble in the
city, the family had decided to vacation in the south of France. Kings jammer
made the entry smooth and undetected.
The heavy truck dug into the manicured lawn as she went off the driveway.
The extensive bonsai garden would provide the best launching point for the
Stalker Missiles.
Once parked, she exited the vehicle and opened up the back. She climbed
into the truck, engaged the hydraulics and seated herself into the cab of the
small urban launcher.
The Lyles being out of country had proved a fortunate stroke. She was ahead
of schedule.
#
The conference room slowly emptied. Dallas braced herself on the edge of
the scarred table. She could only hope they had covered all the bases..hacker-ist there were a lot of tendrils to this operation.
Peabody had done well, presenting her theory of motive with confidence. Her
palms may have been sweaty, but her eyes had stayed cool and flat. Now
she was working with police artist Yancy on the next step.
Feeney sat on the table next to Dallas. He pulled out his bag of candied nuts.
Shaking them once, he offered her first pick.
You got worry written all over you, kid. Want to talk about it?
Dallas ignored the bag of nuts and scrubbed her hands up and down her
face. Feeney waited patiently, chomping on nuts. Dallas turned and sat on
the table next to him.
How do you do it?
Do what? Feeney asked.
Work behind a desk. You were the best in the field. How do you do it?
Thinking about doing more desk work, Feeney asked surprised. You do
more field work than the average Lieutenant.
Its not that, Dallas sighed and dug into Feeneys bag of candied nuts. I
went to one scene, but that was Peabodys. She was good with it, didnt
really need my help. I feel..I dont know...detached. Like Im viewing
everything from a distance. Is it like that with Captains bars?
Feeney munched contemplatively on his treat. You were the best I ever
knew to walk a scene and see the murder like you were there. This time, you
saw through your teams eyes. You put together the big picture, saw the
trends, brought together the damnedest pieces that will let us wrap this
group up tight.
Huh, Dallas said. Still feels weird.
Maybe youre not ready for it, yet, Feeney stood as Roarke entered the
room. But Id say you gave the brass something to think about.
Roarke went over to Dallas, frowning at the darkening circles under eyes. If
he wasnt wrong -- and he wasnt -- she had a headache brewing behind

those eyes. The blocker he had given her earlier was wearing off. He knew
she would resist taking another one.
Before Feeney left, he turned back to Dallas, If you want to know how to
balance desk work and field work, maybe you should talk to that Irishman
you married. Never saw anyone who could do both like he can.
Feeney closed the door behind him.
What was that about? Roarke asked. He reached over and began rubbing
the perfect spot at the base of Eves neck. She literally felt the tension
draining away.
Growing pains, I guess. I missed going to the scenes, catching the scent of
murder first hand. Feeling a little sorry for myself and wondering if this would
be my life if I made Captain.
Ah, Roarkes clever thumb made circles up Eves spine to the dent where
her head and neck met.
Itd be easier for you, I guess. Less chance of me coming home bloodied.
A result to be wished for, he said, shifting position to deeply knead her
shoulders. Summerset would approve,
Reflexively Eve sneered, although what Roarke was doing made her feel too
good to put much effort in it.
Eve, I love you, he grinned at her little murmured response, a mixture of
pleasure and a little surprise even after two years. And part of what you are
is a warrior. Whether you go to the scene or manage it behind a desk, you
will be fighting for the victim. Thats who you are, Dallas, Captain Eve.
Dallas snorted at his field promotion, On the bright side, someone still wants
to kill me, so I must be doing something right.
With a sigh, he leaned his forehead against the back of her head, You had to
remind me.
She shifted and grinned up at him, Its so weird hearing your voice come out
of that face.
He grimaced, I thought I might use this disguise again, go undercover at
Roarke Industries, but I never want to see Kevin Brisbaines face again.
She patted that face, then stood, Do we have everything, she asked.
Caro sent everything you requested, Roarke stood too, turning her to face
him.
Summerset?
I sent him a text invoking protocol 3. He and the cat will be safe.
Protocol 3...what the hell is protocol 3? Eve found herself stalling, reluctant
to go on to the next phase.
When we first moved into our home, I still had, ah, varied, shall we say,
interests. We developed a few plans in case certain situations should arise. I
believe Protocol 3 will cover this one nicely.
You and I are going to have to go over those protocols, Ace, Dallas said.
She took a deep breath and started to the door. Time to get Angelopoulos.
Do you think hell recognize you?
Roarke glanced down at himself, Christ, I hope not. Id never live these
pants down.
#
Summerset read the text again...Protocol 3. He had nearly forgotten the
Protocols, but they came roaring back. With a sigh he went to the Lift. He had
begun to believe his life on the run was over. He had lived long enough to
understand nothing was ever over, ever permanent, ever safe.
Outside the sealed door, Summerset put his hand over the palm plate and
entered the room where the computer hidden from Compuguards all-seeing
eye sat. He slid open a panel and removed a small black box. In a few
minutes, he switched it with one within the unregistered machine. The
computer was no longer unregistered. Compuguard would see a six month
history of innocuous activity. Anyone who got through security would find
nothing. He slipped the real data discs and motherboard into a black case
and left without a backward glance.
Next stop was Roarkes office. Summerset recovered the painting of Roarke
and Eves wedding. They stood gazing into each others eyes. The moment
was right after being pronounced man and wife and just before sharing their
first married kiss. Whenever he was truly annoyed with Dallas, he would
come into this office and look at the painting...not just the moment but that
she had thought to translate that moment into a work of art. It served to
remind him of the woman in love beneath the annoying cop.
Summerset next picked up the old, worn picture of a smiling young woman
holding a baby, the only picture Roarke had of his mother.
Roarke had digitized them, of course, but these were the originals.
Summerset understood the importance of originals.
Hesitating a moment, Summerset entered Eves office. From her desk, he
picked up the alabaster statue of the goddess that Phoebe Peabody had
given her. Beside that sat the small toy cat with bi-colored eyes, probably the
first toy she had owned. He suspected she cared more about it than all the
jewels Roarke had lavished on her. Stretched out on her sleep chair was the
snoring, living version of the toy.
A serving droid rolled into the room with a cat carrier. Summerset wrestled
the barely awake cat into the carrier. In another compartment he slid the
picture of Roarke and his mother, the goddess and the toy cat. He took a
final sweep of the room and saw the preserved white petunia. Roarke had
treated one of the flowers from her wedding bouquet. That she kept it here,
close by where she worked herself nearly to death, told him it mattered. He
added it to the compartment and headed to his final stop...his quarters.
He had more pictures than Roarke...his wife, his daughter, Marlena a
young grinning Roarke with his arm slung casually over Marlenas shoulder.
He supposed it was telling that he and Roarke had images and Dallas had
tangible items. She had never owned anything really. Obtaining things had
not been a major obstacle for Roarke and Summerset understood too well
the pain of losing things.
Once everything was secured Summerset went into the wine cellar.
The mansion had once been home to a bootlegger. Bootleggers had tunnels
to run the liquor prohibited by a mad constitutional amendment and to
provide exits if cops came to call. He and Roarke had discovered this tunnel
when Roarke first purchased the mansion. They decided the possible escape
potentials outweighed the security risks. It took someone with Roarkes skill
and knowledge to come in this way, but the way out was relatively simple.
Today he made use of it. It took little time to make it to the subway access
tunnels. After that, he found his way to the subway platform.
The train had just pulled up and the stream of people began exiting as the
first explosion shook the tunnels. A survivor of the Urban Wars, Summerset
judged the explosion had not involved a building. The house was safe for
now.
He entered the car that would take him away from his home. The house, not
his home, he thought sternly. Galahad chose that moment to come fully
awake and express his displeasure at being in the carrier.
Panic sent commuters jamming back into the train. It would take them away
from the sound that warned savvy New Yorkers and skittish tourists they
didnt want to stay anywhere in the vicinity.
Summerset slightly opened the zippered top of the carrier. Careful not to
provide Galahad enough room to escape this indignity, he consoled himself
and the cat with gently petting the top of Galahads head as the subway
train started down the track.
No, his home was the Boy who had become the Man, the Cat, and, God help
him, the Cop.
#
The sniper set up on a rooftop six blocks from the back of Cop Central
watched patiently. Every exit from the police headquarters was covered, he
hoped he would have the opportunity to take the shot. King was offering a
major bonus for whoever took out Dallas. It would be a true bitch if he
missed out on all that money.
The small metal door on the lower right of the building opened slowly. He
focused in the scope and saw a disordered cap of browns and gold. The last
time he saw a mixture like this, he had a doe in his sites.
He had guessed right.
This exit provided the best shield from sniper attack and had no cameras to
link into. Its the one he would have used. The head disappeared below an
old metal fire escape.
He started to follow it with the scope, when he saw another head come into
view. Stylish dark hair and a broad forehead. Taller than the earlier person.
Son of bitch, he thought excitedly, Stephano Angelopoulos. He was going to
be able to send both his kids to a premium university with the fee from this
job.
Another head, shorter than the first, came into view. Dark brown hair barely
could be seen. Must be Dallas partner. No bounty on her head...but he might
be able to talk King into some extra cash.

He moved the scope towards the end of recycling bins. There was a short
space of about 5 feet without adequate cover. That would be his kill zone.
Dallas took a quick, assessing look and was back under cover. The sniper
breathed evenly, not moving, his finger on the trigger. The slight realignment
of shadows on the pavement was his only warning and the only one he
needed.
The three figures burst out of cover. The two cops shielded Angelopoulos as
much as possible. Flat, brandy colored cop eyes filled his scope. Breath in,
hold, fire..fire..fire.
All three went down as a stream of blood built to flow out of the alley. One
cop moved, crawling towards safety. Too much blood to be sure which one.
He fired again. This new weapon had proven exceptional. He would lay odds
the cops at least were wearing vests, but this sliced through them like a laser
through steel.
He was off the roof and moving through the streets before the alarm sounded
at Cop Central.
Roarke studied the tableau through the open doorway knowing he would
have nightmares for years to come.
A shield had been raised allowing the techs to work the scene in relative
safety. Eve lay with blood pumping out of her chest. She covered
Angelopoulos in a failed attempt to protect and serve.
Beside Roarke, McNab was breathing noisily between his teeth as he kept
retracing the blood trail with his eyes where Peabody had tried to crawl to
safety.
I want to bite out their throats, McNab murmured.
Roarke glanced at McNab. Normally his thin face was amused and pretty. Not
now. His eyes were narrowed and hard, his lips thin and peeled back from his
teeth as if he saw the throat in question.
Ian, well get them.
McNab shook his head, It wont be enough, it could never be enough.

Feeney joined them at the door. Sweepers are done. Theyre bringing them
in, he warned.
In the alley, one of the techs activated a remote. The three bodies on the
ground rose and started towards the building.
It was a horror vid, Roarke thought. A scene where the zombies rise and
move mindlessly towards their loved ones.
Hearing Eves voice behind him saved his sanity, Tell me you got him.
Eyes and Ears, Lieutenant. Counting 15 so far that moved off Central once
the kill was reported. They had every door and window covered. You would
never have made it out alive, LT, came Connors response over the link.
Eve watched the bloodied, broken version of herself walk by Roarke,
Wasacki, stop the damn blood pump. Maintenance is going to be up my ass
if we pump that crap all over their floor, Eve ordered the tech manning the
droid remote.
Damn, theres another one, came Connors voice over the link. They were
watching the sewers too. Dont know how they thought youd get down
there, but they werent taking chances.
Eve switched her link to mute and moved close to Roarke, speaking low for
his ears only, Does the bomb unit still have those toys they used during
Cassandra?
Upgraded versions, he answered, barely moving his lips.
Taking the link off mute, Eve ordered, Contact the Feebs, let them know to
check underground at all their buildings.
She disconnected from Connor and contacted the Explosives and Bomb unit,
They were in the sewers, Dallas said without preamble. Bring out your
best detectors, check every floor and underground.
Already have our best toys in play, came the gruff reply. Well add
underground to the sweep.
Roarke was texting similar instructions to Caro for Roarke Industries and
Properties.
Peabody came in with Angelopoulos and came face to face with her droid
self, Wow, Yancy said they were mag but....wow, she repeated, at a loss for
other words.
At the sound of her voice, McNab whipped around. He plowed through the
growing number of cops in the small room to grab Peabody by the arms and
haul her close for a kiss.
For Christ sakes, McNab, youre a cop...shes a cop...cops on duty. Put it on
hold, Dallas said. She understood. Seeing the scene outside, the trail of
blood as Peabody tried to crawl to cover had hit her hard, too. Her own droid
double hadnt bothered her, but she suspected Roarke had not felt the same
lack of concern. She felt his hand slide down her arm in a gesture seeking
reassurance as surely as McNabs kiss had sought affirmation of life.
Sorry, sir, Peabody said, shoving McNab away. Yancys going to push on
getting the Droid Designer added to his budget. Says it has major potential
for doing IDs.
Angelopoulos stared into his own face. Ive never had a droid made that
looked like me. How the hell did you do it so fast?
Feeney answered, Blank droids and a fancy Droid Designer program, that
our primary sketch artist apparently wants for himself. Wouldnt hold up long
term, but worked for our purposes. Roarkes Droid manufacturing arm sent
over the right height and weight droid blanks. Scanned images of the three
of you were put through the Droid Designer and a Droid Skin was output and
put over the blanks.
Dallas and Peabody here are celebrities after the Icove book and movie,
Feeney said with a small smirk. Wasnt hard to find eyes and hair to match
them. Fed in their psych profiles so they would respond like the originals and
you have the perfect decoys. We used a generic for you. For a real droid, the
skin would have been sealed on, it takes at least a week to get all the parts,
working together. These didnt have to talk or hold up under close inspection
so a quick glue job was sufficient.
Got em, Dallas murmured. Then looked up, The shooters are
congregating at a residence hotel. Looks like they are using them as a
barracks. National Guard is moving in.
Dallas responded to another beep and Darcias voice came over the link,
Dallas, we let the shuttle take off under remote. It exploded as expected.
Weve got three suspects in custody. Youve got your offworld terrorism
connection.
They would never see the light of day...or the feel of earth gravity again,
Dallas thought. Offworld terrorism resulted in automatic offworld
incarceration. Space was too unforgiving to allow people to blow things up. I
hope it was an old shuttle, Dallas said.
There was a moment of silence, It was supposed to be taking Roarke back
to earth...it was the top of the line.
Inside Roarke winced. He wondered if he could bill the government for it.
While Dallas and Peabody coordinated the taking of the mercenaries at the
residence hotel, and the techs finished clearing the droids out, Angelopoulos
maneuvered close to Roarke.
I noticed you are attracted to the Lieutenant, Stephano said in a low voice.
Mind some free advice?
Im a married man, Roarke said, lifting his hand with Brisbaines plain gold
band.
But shes a fascinating woman, no? When there was no response, he
continued, I saw you brush a hand down her arm. I dont know how much of
the reported divorce is true, but until a divorce was final I would be very
careful not to poach.
Roarke remained silent. Angelopoulos sighed, They call her Roarkes cop
and Roarke protects what is his. Wait, my friend, till he no longer considers
her his.
What do you think he would do if someone...poached? Roarke asked
curiously.
It would depend. If she was not interested, she would probably knock you on
your ass and step on you on her way out. If she was interested, Stephano
paused, thought, I think no one would ever see you again.
But hes married to a cop...a murder cop.
Ah, but I dont think he would simply murder you...he would erase you, as if
you had never been.
#
Summerset entered the Brisbaine apartment. He took the carrier into the
bedroom and released Galahad. The cat turned his broad backside to
Summerset, making it clear he no longer existed in the cats world.
Galahad padded to the pillows, dug a little with paw and nose. Comforted by
the familiar scent of his humans, he turned several times and curled into
ball, putting one paw over his eyes.
Satisfied with the cats reaction, Summerset hunted down a small pan for
litter and bowls for food and water. He created a corner for the Galahad when
he woke from his nap.
He went into the living area, pleasantly surprised it was not as messy as he
had expected. It took just a few minutes to put it to rights. Once he was
comfortable with the space, Summerset pulled out his link and sat. He
started to notify Roarke he had gotten himself and Galahad safely out of the
house, when he heard the unmistakable sound of burglary tools in use at the
door coming from the security monitor.
This unit had both the standard electronic locks that were susceptible to
jammers and the additional protection of physical locks that required manual
manipulation. Summerset went to the computer station and watched the
feed from the exterior cameras.
The green light blinking on the lock indicated the jammer had made quick
work of the electronics. The person breaking in had less skill with the manual
locks, Summerset thought with a disdainful curl of his lip. Really, where was
the pride in his work?
He ran a face recognition program as the man slowly sought to catch the
tumblers.
When he finally made it through the door, Leo Muldowney came face to face
with with an illegal stunner pointed directly at him.
#
Mei Zhang felt rage pounding behind her eyes. She never missed. This
system never missed in over 100 field tests.
But Roarkes house stood untouched. The gardens were damaged. A patio
lay in ruins. Trees were down but the house was untouched.
What the hell was protecting the house? This was a home, not a top secret
military facility.
She thought for a moment, letting cool determination dampen the rage.
Something was protecting the house. This was Roarkes place after all. He
undoubtedly utilized the latest advancements in his R&D divisions for his
own protection. Chances were the devices sat around the perimeter. All she
needed to do was hit one of those devices and the defenses would be down.
Then no one would ever know she had missed. Zhang went into the truck
cab and pulled up the plans of Roarkes estate. She began to methodically
plot a grid to send the next missiles.
#
Dallas ordered the small room and corridor that lead out to the alley cleared
of all but essential personnel. Cops kept filing in, taking a look at the blood
soaked scene, even without the droid decoys, and leaving with eyes flat and
mouths grim.
Their city was under siege, cops had been targeted. It didnt matter that
droids had taken the hit, the intent had been clear. There would be little
sleep and no down time, until this was stopped.
In the conference room that had been certified cleared of all listening
devices, Dallas worked with her team to coordinate efforts around the city.
Hastily devised and less than state-of-the-art bombs had been found
underneath Cop Central and several other precinct cop shops, Roarke
Industries, the U.N, and FBI Headquarters. The raid on the warehouse had
crippled the group, but they had been able to pull together enough items to
seriously threaten the city.
The National Guard had taken 28 men and women in custody at the
residence hotel. Some had been preparing to go out on assignments. A
sniper attack on Time Square was averted. Two bombs did go off at the
Empire State Building, but the damage had been contained.
The power stations were targeted and now a quarter of the city was without
power. With the power down, and the day growing towards evening, those
areas of town were experiencing high instances of looting and like crimes of
opportunity.
Dallas pulled the droid beat cops off their standard duties and focused them
in the dark areas of the city, keeping only a minimum presence at other
sites.
Roarke, Feeney and McNab were tracking and blocking cyber attacks on
everything from traffic lights to Wall Street.
Into this hive of activity, Whitney walked. Dallas left Peabody and Baxter and
crossed to Whitney.
Status? he asked
We have them on Terrorism charges offworld and onworld. From the report
from the National Guard weve scooped up 62% of Mercenaries and they are
closing in on the identified target sites. They expect to have the rest within
the next two hours.
There has been no further reported biological attacks. They may have
supplies elsewhere, but its unlikely they have much, if any, remaining in the
City after the warehouse raid.
The Muldowney brownstone was taken half an hour ago, but King and
Muldowney were both gone. We got a small lab and scientists and techs, a
couple of military types and a politician.
Cyber attacks are continuing, leading us to believe King and Muldowney are
both directing the attacks from an undisclosed location.
Whitney nodded. Ive received a report on your place.
Roarke looked up, saved the information he was working on and moved
behind Dallas. Baxter frowned slightly, why the hell did Bainbridge care
about Roarkes place?
Then he thought about how seamlessly Bainbridge had fit in with the team,
as if he had worked with them many times before. There were certain
rhythms when working within a team. His eyes widened as he recognized the
rhythm. He tapped Peabody on the shoulder. Distracted she looked up as
Baxter aimed a look in the direction of Whitney, Dallas and Bainbridge. He
mouthed Roarke? silently.
She glanced over and grinned. It still was hard to believe the tall, almost
gaunt geek with the wavy pants was the slick, elegant, toned, billionaire.
Baxter whistled silently. He only wished he had bet more on Dallas and
Roarke staying together in the betting pool that had grown like wildfire after
yesterday mornings broadcast.
He took a moment to capture the image of Roarke in his Bainbridge disguise
and went back to work.
A Marine unit took into custody one Mei Zhang who was firing on your place
from the neighboring estate of the Lyles. Im told she was angrier that she
had been unable to destroy your place than she was at being caught.
The Marines? Dallas asked.
Under the Urban Terrorism Act of 2036, the President has sent in a number
of Marine teams to back up the National Guard. It seems the rocket launcher
Zhang was using had been designed for Chinese military use. The missiles
they were using had been designed in Great Britain. This is on the way of
becoming a very big and very nasty international incident.
I take it she wasnt able to damage the house? Roarke said.
No, and Ive had a number of requests to find out what you used. Im sure
youll be flooded at Roarke Industries with inquiries, Whitney told him.
Roarke nodded, Its experimental. By chance I had it installed last month
but hadnt had the opportunity to run tests. I guess you could say this was
the first real world test of the system. Id say this will increase interest in it.
Dallas just stared for a moment. Their home had nearly been demolished and
somehow Roarke was going to get big orders for a new product out of it. She
remember Angelopoulos saying he had the Midas touch. Sometimes it was
downright spooky.
Roarkes link beeped and he looked down at the read out.
When he looked up, he was smiling. It looked more like a wolf who had
caught the scent of prey than humor. It didnt sit right on Bainbridges
features, but it was all Roarke.
I know where Muldowney is, Roarke said.
Where? Whitney and Dallas said in unison.
The Bainbridge apartment, with Summerset.
Posted by Cyrex , 01 July 2012 941 views
Go, Whitney said. I think I can handle things here, if not Captain Feeney
will set me on the straight and narrow.
Dallas felt Peabodys eyes, Uh, sir, do you need me to accompany you?
Peabody had done an admirable job of keeping her voice steady and
professional, Dallas thought. Well, if she wanted to move up, shed have to
learn to play with the big boys. No, Detective, Ill take the Civilian, its his
place.
Baxter snorted slightly, earning a frown from Dallas. Something to say,
Detective?
No sir, Baxter said, not quite losing the cocky grin.
I think he recognizes the Civilian, Roarke said, in his own voice.
Dallas frowned up at him, Of course, he does. Hes one of my detectives,
she said with emphasis. If he hadnt figured it out by now, Id bust him down
to street scooper and let him earn his way back to the shield.
It had been a filthy couple of days, Baxter thought, but Dallas had a way of
hiding a compliment inside a threat that you just had to love.
Dont you two have somewhere to be? Feeney reminded them.
Dallas hesitated...how to get there.
They called in a successful kill on you, Roarke reminded her grimly. Odds
are they wont be watching for you to leave. Lets take your vehicle.
What the hell, the damn thing was built like a tank, she thought.
#
Summerset removed the cord from behind one of the ancillary comps and
used it to tie Muldowney to a kitchen chair.
Settling into a more comfortable chair several feet away, Summerset pulled
out his link and texted Roarke that Muldowney was here. Someone would be
coming shortly. On the off chance that Lieutenant Dallas did not come
herself, he angled the stunner so it could be easily hidden if someone
unexpected came through the doorway.
Theyre both dead, you know, Muldowney said, nodding towards the
wedding painting Summerset had left leaning against the wall outside the
bedroom door.
Summerset did not respond.
Got the signal of her confirmed kill just before I came over here,
Muldowney murmured, staring at the painting. The artist had done an
excellent job of capturing the hope and love in that moment.
Roarkes shuttle was blown up just minutes before. If you believe in the
afterlife, at least theyre probably together.
Summerset knew Roarke wasnt aboard a shuttle. But, if Muldowney was
right and the Lieutenant was dead, the man in front of him wouldnt survive
the hour.
You dont sound as if you approve of the outcome.
Im too damned old to have fallen for it, Muldowney said. Keep up my
face, my body...but Ive got a lot of miles. Maybe I should have been more
worried about my brain. They said all the right things and at first
Wed all been chewed up and spit out by the system...but King had a way to
use what we had, show up the system and take out the bad guys...
Vigilantism, Summerset said. I saw a lot of it in the aftermath during the
Urbans. And hadnt he appreciated Roarke avenging Marlena, what was that
but vigilantism?
Some archetype from my childhood...Batman, Spiderman, the Scarlet
Pimpernel...who the hell knows, Muldowney said. The image of the man
who stands for good when society fails. The ideas stay with us.
Why did you come here? Summerset asked.
Wanted to know more about Brisbaine. Hes good with a computer, able to
track Kings hack back to the warehouse...that took god damn supernatural
skills. I thought maybe he could get me in touch with his police contacts.
Police? Summerset asked, showing surprise for the first time.
Turn myself in...make a deal if possible, Muldowney looked at Summerset
and the full weight of his years showed in his eyes. Im a freedom fighter. I
fought against restricting the net, the eye of Compuguard. I hacked, I stole,
but until this I always felt like I was acting for the greater good.
And now, Summerset wanted to know.
He didnt answer at first. After a few moments of silence, Muldowneys eyes
narrowed speculatively. Youre Roarkes man. What are you doing here?
Summerset shrugged, There was an attack on Roarkes place. The

Lieutenant trusted Brisbaine to work with Roarke Industries then brought him
into the rest of the investigation. It seemed appropriate.
You had a key? Muldowney asked suspiciously.
Didnt need one...its Roarkes building, Summerset answered with a sniff.
Now what? Who did you contact? Muldowney demanded.
The good news is you will have your opportunity to speak with the police.
I told you the Lieutenant is dead, Muldowney said, pulling on the electrical
cord wrapped around his wrists.
I did not contact the Lieutenant.
Her partner...Peabody isnt it...shes dead too. Who else would you contact
with Roarke off planet?
And dead, Summerset said softly, according to you. He sincerely hoped
the young Detective Peabody had not been killed.
Muldowney did not respond immediately, I researched you. Did Roarke
create your new identity?
Summerset did not rise to the bait.
The work is excellent, but Im an old hand at creating identities. Yours is a
fake.
He waited for a response, Summerset did not blink.
You never liked Roarke hooking up with a cop, did you. I monitored those
communications with her yesterday morning and the one this morning.
Theres no love lost there.
Summerset allowed his lip to barely curl with disgust, She has no sense of
style nor decorum. She is totally unsuitable to be the wife of a man in
Roarkes position.
Past tense now, Muldowney said. With Roarke and Dallas gone...who
inherits?
Interesting question, Summerset thought, now why would Muldowney care?
Imperceptibly he adjusted the stunner to ensure a clear shot.
Youve been with Roarke for years. Even if you dont get it all, surely you
must get a sizeable portion.
Roarke has not shared the contents of his will with me, Summerset said
stiffly. He put just a touch of irritation into the comment. Muldowney was
fishing, he wanted to know if Summerset thought he was going to be
wealthy...irritated he didnt know or resentful of a small portion.
Past tense, Muldowney reminded him.
Contest of wills, Summerset thought. How much did Muldowney really know
about him? Did he know how long he had been in the game. Did he
understand how that translated into reading an opponent? The other man
was definitely looking to manipulate him.
I would not keep bringing that up, Summerset said. This time he put just a
hint of anger into the words. I have been with Roarke for many years.
As a servant, Muldowney pointed out. Bet he let the cop give you orders.
Resentment and disgust crossed Summersets face for just a second.
Now you have... Muldowney threw himself sideways in the middle of the
sentence. The stunner stream Summerset fired missed him by mere inches.
Muldowney came up, holding the electrical cord taut between his two hands
and leapt towards Summerset.
#
Peter King surveyed the rows of young people working diligently at their
systems. Presenting the destruction of New Yorks cyber infrastructure as a
new game test had been a stroke of genius. Everyone here was a top gamer
who thought they worked on a Beta online game. Little did they know their
opponents were the elite of NYPSD EDD.
Muldowney had pointed out this resolved problems caused by their loss of
computer systems. If the hack was tracked down to this location...and each
gamer was creating their own block or multi-hop route this internet cafe
was, entertainingly enough, owned by Roarke Properties.
It also got them out of the brownstone, King suspected that location might
be identified soon. The failed attempts to destroy his foot soldiers had
provided an opportunity for the enemy to trace the kill command back to the
source. He had decided to consider the brownstone a lost site.

If he was right, he had sacrificed several of his top people. If he was wrong,
he could collect them and they would never know.
The one thing he had determined...he had gone too broad with New York. For
financing, he would keep up the proven contract kill program. For the larger
scale weapon demos, he would need to reconsider the best way to give
demonstrations. Putting the two together had proven too unwieldy. It
reminded him of a saying his aunt had...something about the fancier or more
complicated the plumbing, the easier to clog the drain.
He heard the bell going off...the young woman in seat 12 had just crashed
the New York Stock Exchange. The impact was cascading worldwide.
King smiled broadly. He glanced at his wrist unit. The world would be on its
economic knees within a half an hour. When Roarkes death was confirmed,
what was left of the worlds market would be in an uproar.
He started moving money from the NYSE funds into his own account. He
vaguely wondered what was keeping Muldowney. He could use an extra set
of hands.
#
Muldowney had indeed been taking care of his body, Summerset thought as
he fought the older man. Should he survive, he would have to take greater
advantage of the mansions work out room...providing there still was a
mansion.
So far, Summerset had avoided two solid face blows, received one glancing
blow to his shoulder that had resulted in the loss of the stunner. He had in
turn rammed his elbow into Muldowneys solar plexis and delivered an
uppercut that would have his hand aching for days.
He had learned to fight for survival during the Urbans. Before that, his life
had been more...genteel. After the Urbans, with a daughter to raise and no
reasonably safe means to generate a sufficient income, he had gone on the
grift. The nature of that life had required he hone those skills.
Those first few months after taking the young Roarke in, had been harrowing,
to say the least. Patrick Roarke did not like losing his perceived control of his
son. Still Summerset had bested everyone he had sent after him, until the
night the bastard had cornered him in the alley.
He had survived that too...he would survive this.

Then he tripped over the ruins of the kitchen chair and went down hard.
Muldowney was on him instantly.
How long, Summerset wondered, before someone came through that door. If
Dallas had indeed been killed...would Roarke have even seen the text?
An unholy screech sounded from the direction of the bedroom. Galahad leapt
onto the chair arm, then launched himself onto Muldowneys back, all claws
extended.
Distracted Muldowney lost his grip on Summerset who rolled quickly away.
Muldowney shifted onto his back in an attempt to crush Galahad. With grace
that belied his size, Galahad squirmed around and landed on Muldowneys
face, raking bloody tracks across one eye and down a cheek.
Cursing, screaming, Muldowney dislodged the hissing, spitting clawing feline,
taking blood and skin with it and threw the cat across the room.
The door flew open, Eve coming in low and Roarke high. They both took in
the scene with one glance. A disheveled Summerset stood holding a stunner
on a scratched, bleeding, screaming Muldowney.
Dallas kicked the door closed. At the sound, Muldowney turned I want that
demon put down, he screamed. Look at me look at what that cat did to
me.
At the reference to cat, Eve and Roarke looked in the direction Muldowney
was pointing. Galahad lay at the base of the wall.
God damn it, Eve said. We've got him, she said to Summerset. Check on
Galahad.
Not knowing what she would find in the apartment, Dallas had left the
uniforms downstairs. As Summerset pocketed the stunner on his way to
Galahad, she knew she had made the right decision.
Are you all right? Roarke asked Summerset.
Well enough, Summerset said, kneeling to check the cat.

Look at me...that damn cat nearly took my eye out. I demand you stun that
fucking animal...
The only one in this apartment needing stunning is not the cat, Dallas said,
her voice cold. Do you have him? she asked Roarke.
Can I stun him? Roarke answered a little too hopefully.
Only if he twitches, Eve answered. She moved behind Roarke, staying out
of the line of fire, to reach Muldowney. She pulled his arms behind him and
secured him with restraints.
You have to take me to medical center. I could lose my eye...
You have the right to remain silent, Dallas continued with the revised
Miranda. By the time she completed with Do you understand your rights and
obligations? Muldowney had focused on her face.
You're dead. I saw the recording of your kill.
Dallas moved slightly when she sensed the tension behind her, blocking
Roarke's aim, Do you understand your rights and obligations?
Yes, yes but...
Bullocks, if I can't stun him or watch you stun him, I'm going to change,
Roarke lowered his weapon and started towards the bedroom. It was past
time to lay Brisbaine to rest.
Roarke paused next to Summerset and knelt down beside him. He murmured
quietly to the cat, then nodded to Dallas before going into the bedroom.
Where's King? Dallas asked.
I need medical attention. I'm willing to cooperate, I was explaining to
Summerset I was planning to have Brisbaine help me turn myself in,
Muldowney said, sounding eager to cooperate. But before I talk, I really
need medical attention, now he sounded apologitically determined.
That's what he was claiming before he became distracted with how much of
Roarke's money I would inherit with you and Roarke gone, Summerset said.
Galahad? Dallas asked
Stunned, Summerset rose with the cat and moved moved towards the
kitchen. A little food should perk him up.
Chicken soup, hold the noodles, Dallas said, thinking of all the chicken soup
she had shared with Galahad when she had come home battered or
bloodied.
Summerset raised an eyebrow. It's the way he likes it, Dallas defended.
Bleeding here, Muldowney reminded her, not sounding so cooperative now.
I need medical attention.
Dallas pulled out her link, Trueheart, Muldowney is secure, bring up the
uniforms.
You'll be taken to a medical center. Now where the hell is Peter King? Dallas
asked.
You were dead, Muldowney insisted.
Detective Peabody? Summerset asked from the kitchen. The smell of
chicken soup began to waft into the room. Galahad's demanding meow grew
more intense as the scent grew stronger. He said she was also dead.
She's fine, Dallas responded. No thanks to Muldowney and King.
I will not be ignored, Muldowney roared. I have been attacked by a savage
animal, I can't see out of one of my eyes. I insist you show me the proper
respect.
Dallas opened the door, the uniforms should be there shortly. You want
respect? she asked. Then tell me where the fuck your murdering bastard of
a partner is. You want a deal? Tell me now before the next attack or before
that cowardly son of a bitch leaves town to regroup.
You'll deal, Lieutenant, Muldowney muttered.
Will I? You and your group has attacked my city, my friends, my partner, my
husband and my cat. I'm at the end of my patience, Dallas said.
Summerset's snort from the other room was a comment on her patience. She
heard the sound of Galahad greedily lapping up the chicken soup.
Three uniforms appeared at the door. Trueheart led the other two into the
apartment. With his usual partner, Baxter, working at Cop Central, the young
Troy Trueheart took the lead in selecting the officers that would escort
Muldowney to Cop Central.

Clock's ticking, Dallas said. Where's King.
We'll talk after I get medical attention. Until then, I think I'll exercise my
right to remain silent, Muldowney responded mutinously.
Lieutenant, Roarke appeared at the bedroom door. He had changed out of
the eye-popping clothes of Brisbaine into a black tee, black jeans and
ridiculously expensive black loafers. His silky black hair gleamed, falling just
short of his shoulders. Gone were the contacts and the sculpted prosthetics
that belonged to Brisbaine.
Muldowney turned and gawked. Your shuttle was blown up.
Ice cold blue eyes zeroed in on Muldowney. I am aware of that. It was a very
expensive shuttle. Fortunately, no one was aboard. I will be pursuing any and
all legal means to recoup the loss.
Why, Muldowney wondered, did Roarke's icy stare turn his bowels to water?
To add to the Lieutenant's list, you have tried to destroy my marriage,
attacked my company, killed my employee, attempted to kill my wife, my
friend, and it serves to be mentioned again, our cat.
Time to deal is running short, Dallas warned.
It's run out, Lieutenant, Roarke corrected. Feeney's found King.
Muldowney began shaking, I can give you all, I can....
Trueheart, take him to the Medical Center. Same scan for internal devices as
the rest. Record every damn thing out of his mouth.
She took his arm, Do you understand, Muldowney, every word you say will
be recorded.
I want a deal, he whined. It's not my fault, King changed. He's mad.
If what you give us is good, we'll talk deal.
Deal first, Muldowney insisted.
You researched me, you know I keep my word, Dallas said.
Then she leaned in for Muldowney's ears only, You were planning on killing
Summerset and taking his place, weren't you? That's why you were
interested in how much money he would get with Roarke and me out of the
way, A man with your computer skills could switch indentities easily. With
that, your story of being the misled victim goes out the window. Play hardball
with me on the deal and I'll do everything in my power to see you're put
away for good. And if you should happen to get out...Roarke will be waiting.
Muldowney did not look back at Roarke, but nodded stiffly to Dallas. I trust
you to be fair. I understand I will be recorded.
The two officers took charge of the prisoner and walked him out. Dallas
stopped Trueheart before he followed them, Trueheart, remember, record
everything. We want them locked up tight.
I'll get everything, sir. I want to thank you for this opportunity, Trueheart
said.
Webster's reports indicate you've earned it.
Trueheart stopped just short of saluting and left to follow the officers and
their prisoner.
Eve looked down as Galahad stropped between her legs. She bent and
picked him up carefully and buried her face in his fur while he responded
with a loud purr.
Where'd Feeney say King was? Dallas asked Roarke.
Internet Cafe..one of mine...the Blue Highway.
How far? Dallas demanded. Her voice and eyes were all cop. Without
thinking about it, she was nuzzling Galahad, loathe to put him down.
Was it any wonder he loved her, Roarke thought.
About ten minutes. It's surrounded above and below ground. All outgoing
internet traffic is being routed to a virtual world. You have him, Lieutenant.
Misdirection in Death - Chapter 23 and Epilogue
Roarke slid into the passenger seat and closed the door seconds before
Dallas sent the vehicle screaming out of the garage with sirens and lights
blaring. He coded in the location of the Blue Highway, then settled back into
the seat.
Dallas glanced in his direction and smiled.
What? Roarke asked.
Its good to see you looking like you, Eve said. She took a hand off the
wheel for a moment and smoothed it down his cheek.
Taking her hand, he placed a kiss on the palm before releasing it. It feels
good too.
Enough of that, Dallas said as she wove through traffic. Why did my team
contact you instead of me when they located King?
Initially to get my permission to reroute the network traffic. Roarke took a
moment to look up his notes on his link, Do you recall a Sergeant Stewart?
The name rang a distant bell, Sounds familiar, but I cant place it. A taxi
swerved in front of her. Without missing a beat, Eve went airborne and
leapfrogged the offending driver. It was good to drive a vehicle that
responded like a top of the line race car.
Taking the maneuver in stride, Roarke continued, He went down in the line
about six months ago. He and Baxter were in the Academy together.
Apparently Baxter has been helping the family out. Stewarts
daughter...Karen...Kristin...no Karina...her friends were telling her to go down
to the Blue Highway to test a new game. Stewarts widow wasnt sure it
would be a good idea given everything that has happened and checked with
Baxter. Once he heard the name of the game he said he heard the click.
Dallas knew that click...every good cop did. That moment when pieces fell
into place and you knew you had the scent. What was the name?
Roarke grinned slightly, Pretty obvious...New York Take-down. A flash went
out to all the top-gamers in the city. $10,000 prize for first one to beat the
game.
Dallas shut down the siren and lights as she approached a garage three
blocks from the Blue Highway. According to the information Roarke had fed
into the vehicles comp system, her team was set up on the third floor here.
Fortunately no one was exiting the garage as Dallas turned into it without
slowing down.
So you and EDD have been battling gamers all day? Dallas lips twitched.
She spotted the teams setup and came to a squealing stop just a couple of
feet away.
The best gamers in the city, Roarke agreed. And we were outnumbered at
least 10 to 1.
The group huddled around the computer screens didnt look up as Dallas and
Roarke approached. That is one sweet virtual world you have there, Feeney
said.
Virtual World? Dallas asked. If she hadnt been looking directly at Roarke,
she would have missed the slight flush.
Roarkes World, McNab answered. Its totally iced.
Roarkes World? Dallas echoed....Its not enough you own nearly
everything in this world...you have your own world?
Not my idea, he muttered. When Dallas continued to stare, he continued.
About 4 years ago, before we met, Roarke Industries had an especially
lucrative deal. A bonus was paid out to all the employees who were involved.
It led to a bet who would have done the deal the same way or improved on
it. The IT department created a reflection of the current market. IT, Finance,
Sales, Marketing, Quality Assurance...everyone started trying to out do each
other.
And you encourage them, Eve guessed.
Roarke shrugged, Its proved a useful training tool.
McNab picked up from there Theres all kinds of software out there where
you can buy and sell on the stock market in a virtual world, but this one you
invest in stocks, businesses, antiques, you can be a venture capitalist and
fund new ideas. Theres different levels, you can start in an existing level or
with ten or more start from the world as it is now. Thats where we funneled
the gamers.
Securitys a little lax, Feeney commented. They were only in Roarkes
World a few minutes when they broke into the stock exchange.
I doubt the programmers were planning on someone cheating and breaking
into the Exchange. Were lucky they put any layer of security on it, Roarke
said.
Dallas had been studying the screen during the explanation. They had eyes
and ears thanks to the cameras inside the Internet Cafe. Most were just kids.
King sat above the others, working furiously on his unit.
Whats he doing? Dallas asked.

Transferring large sums of virtual money into his accounts. Weve been able
to freeze four sizeable accounts so far ITRW, Feeney said.
ITRW? Dallas asked.
In The Real World, Feeney said.
Dallass unit sounded, Lieutenant Dallas, the gruff voice of NYPSDs bomb
unit Lieutenant Mastick reported, hes got the place wired. If we go in, he
could blow the place to kingdom come.
Dallas glanced at Roarke who nodded, Im sending my expert consultant
civilian down.
I heard Brisbaine is good, came the response, but these are Roarkes
toys.
Roarke flashed a grin before heading down the nearby stairwell. I think
youll find the Civilian will exceed your expectations, Dallas said wryly.
#
Unless King made a move, Dallas was content to let him play in Roarkes
world. She used the time to set up a perimeter above, on and below ground.
He wasnt getting away.
Trueheart reported from the medical center. Nothing was discovered in
Muldowney. It confirmed Dallas suspicions that the internal devices had not
been implanted in those King considered vital for his business venture.
Muldowney was already asking for a lawyer, so much for cooperating.
Finally, everything was in place, she was just waiting for a report from the
bomb squad. Shed give them another 5 to contact her, then shed start
badgering.
The call came in with two minutes to spare.
Weve disabled all the electrical trigger devices. Mechanical devices were
found but we cant do anything about them from here, Mastick reported.
And your man is a bloody genius. Id offer him a job if I thought hed take it.
EDD has first dibs on the boy if he ever stops buying up the world, Feeney
said.
If were through discussing Roarkes future job prospects, is it safe to go in
and get King? Dallas asked.
Lieutenant, Roarkes voice cruised over the com, I am delighted to know I
have options. Weve done all we can at this point. King could still set off the
mechanical devices. Odds are they wont explode...likely to be a gas
release.
Biological?
Possible, but unlikely. King could easily have filters on him that would
protect him from a knockout gas. Biological contaminants are riskier when
relying on the filters, Roarke replied. Ive got some of the latest filters
being delivered, should be here in five.
Theres civilians in there, Dallas said. Mastick whats your take?
We could wait til King leaves, but my bet is hell set off whatever he has
before he goes. This way we control the timing.
Dallas stood silent for a moment. She had confidence in both Mastick and
Roarke, but the safety of civilians concerned her. She looked up and met
Feeneys eyes and saw her own worry reflected there.
She called up the SWAT team, Do you have a shot, can you take out King?
No clear shot, Lieutenant, came the reply.
She switched back to Mastick, Any alternatives?
We cant use concussive devices, Dallas. We were able to deactivate the
triggers, but the explosives are still there. We could blow the place to
kingdom come. If he has a filter, like we think, knockout gas would be
useless. Tear gas would be effective, but it wouldnt stop him from engaging
the mechanicals.
Theres negotiation, Dallas, Feeney put in. Treat it like a hostage
situation.
It would be like negotiating with a cop, Roarke said over the com. You saw
his files, Feeney. He broke down police procedures step by step, identified
weaknesses, how long to stay, when to get out. The Lieutenant is beating his
three day scenario because he didnt take into account cops in one place
would recognize the pattern from another city.
Well negotiate all right, Dallas said. Well start with giving him what he
wants, then negotiate his ass right into a cell. You ready for some top notch
negotiating, ace?
Im ready when you are, Lieutenant, Roarke answered. The filters just
arrived. Meet me at the staging area and well get suited up.
#
Eve hated body armor, but she knew after the scene in the alley, Roarke
wasnt letting her anywhere near King without every bit of protection he
could manage. Since she felt the same way about him, she donned the
armor with what she considered was a minimum of grumbling. I dont get
why it has to be so uncomfortable, the coat you gave me with the body
armor isnt like this.
Roarke was thinking the same thing, but he wasnt about to admit it. That
was a prototype, were a long way from making NYPSD stylishly armored.
Feeneys heavy sigh sounded in her ear, I never thought Id hear you
discussing fashion on the job, kid.
Shut up, Feeney. Youre not the one in the body armor, Dallas griped.
Fitting the nose filters was not a pleasant operation either. She felt like
someone stuck marbles up her nose.
What the hell, Roarke, she said. Ive used filters before and they didnt
feel like this.
This is a next generation. Theoretically they should work against most
airborne contagions as well as the gas. Remember to breathe through your
nose, not your mouth.
Theoretically? Dallas asked cautiously.
Definitely as good as the old filters and potentially better. If were right,
therell be no biologicals involved, but this adds an extra layer of protection.
Roarke made mental notes to improve the feel of the filters.
Anything else, she asked sarcastically. Force fields, bubble helmets, jet
pack, time machine?
Still in the beta stages, Lieutenant, Roarke answered smoothly. Not ready
for field tests.

Then were ready as we can get, Dallas rolled her shoulders, hoping it
would settle the body armor a little more comfortably. Time to take a walk.
#
King looked up as the door to the Internet Cafe opened. His eyes narrowed as
Dallas and Roarke strolled in.
I knew you were on planet, he pointed to Roarke. No way my program was
that far off.
The Lieutenant would have taken you down without me....its just more fun
this way, Roarke said.
Smooth negotiating, Dallas murmured.
A second later the first gamer toppled over.
He activated the gas the minute we walked in, Roarke said. Negotiation
would be a waste of time.
The gamers who were still able to, stampeded the front door and side exits.
Medicals replaced the armed officers at the exits and escorted them to
waiting transpo. After the ambulatory were removed, medics in hazmat suits
recovered the unconscious.
Dallas and Roarke moved up and flanked King.
Three more trigger devices were recovered, as Dallas patted King down.
Roarke located a fourth under Kings watch. Roarke pulled the watch off
Kings wrist and turned to hand it to a waiting office.
Peter King stood silent, watching his plans fall apart. He worried the large
ruby ring on his left hand. Out of the corner of her eye, Dallas saw the small
needle extend from the ring, as King moved as if to stop the hand off of the
watch. The extended needle neared Roarkes hand.
Acting on instinct, Dallas delivered a short jab. King dropped to the ground.
Theres something on the ring, she told the medics who turned around.
Check it out...carefully. Take all his jewelry, hell, strip him and put him in
scrubs.
Two officers came in, Areas been cleared, LT. The victims are waking up,
simple sleeping gas.
Once youve got him in scrubs, take him in for the internal scan. I dont
think hed want to blow himself up, but Im not taking chances.
Yes sir.
King came awake fighting. He knocked down one of the medics, twisted
away from the second and headed towards the door at a run. He was greeted
at the door with several police issue stunners, pointed in his direction. He
turned looking for another avenue of escape.
Dallas stepped in front of him. Youre under arrest for conspiracy to commit
murder, for terrorism on and off planet, and for the attempted murder of
police officers. I suspect the feds will want you for treason, but they can file
their own damn paperwork. Additional charges and names will be provided
when the official filing is complete.
One of the officers removed Kings shirt and pulled a loose cotton top into
place on the struggling man. He then pulled Kings arms behind him and
fastened the restraints.
These officers are going to escort you to a medical center for a thorough
scan. You have the right to remain silent, Dallas continued the revised
Miranda while the officers continued stripping pants, socks, shoes,
underwear. She reached the final question as Kings feet were forced into
paper booties.
Do you understand your rights and obligations?
You wont be able to hold me, theres always a way out, King said. Ask
him, he nodded towards Roarke. Tell her, theres always a way out for men
like us.
Maybe, Roarke answered. But sometimes the way out is worse than where
you are.
Youre nothing like him, asshole, Dallas said. Now do you understand your
rights and obligations?
King started laughing. Of course I do...and youll soon understand your
rights and obligations have nothing to do with me.
Get him the hell out of here, Dallas ordered the officers.
King was half marched, half dragged from the building. Dallas sat on the
edge of one of the computer tables and absently rubbed her hand. Roarke
ignored the bustle of the CSIs around him and frowned at Eves lightly
swelling hand.
Feeling better? Roarke asked.
Huh? Dallas said, then realized what she was doing. Yeah, the punch felt
good. Wish it could have been more.
Feeling left out were you? Roarke sat down beside her.
Crack got to beat up someone...that was OK, I mean he got his name for
cracking heads. Then you got to fight someone, but then Summerset, Dallas
shrugged, and even the cat got a swipe in. It wasnt right.
Going in to finish up tonight? Roarke asked. I can find my own way home.
Home, Dallas repeated. She sat for a moment, What the hell, theyll be
there tomorrow. It wouldnt hurt for them to stew a little. Lets go home.
#
EPILOGUE
Dallas woke to a weight on her chest. Galahad butted her chin with his head,
demanding a pet. She realized there was a slight smell of Tuna to his breath
as he purred. Summerset undoubtedly would spoil the cat for several days.
Probably should get up but she was in her bed, in her home, with her cat.
The low sound of the screen let her know Roarke was up and at the small
table in his regular morning ritual. Even the smell of coffee wasnt enough to
get her to move beyond the slight petting of the cat. Make that in her bed, in
her home with her cat and her husband nearby. Damn near perfect.
There was a change in the voice on screen. Eve recognized Nadine Furst.
Apparently the on-air reporter had recovered sufficiently to be in front of the
camera.
Eve, you better hear this, Roarke said, sensing she was awake. He paused
the screen and sent it back a couple of minutes. Reluctantly Eve got up and
dragged on a robe she found at the end of the bed. She picked up Roarkes
coffee and took a fortifying drink.
He started the report again, The FBI is reporting the apprehension of a large
terrorist ring responsible for the recent attacks on New York City.
You had to give Nadine credit, Dallas thought. She read the copy straight, but
something in her voice said this was pure bullshit.
Agent Nick Schultz credits the NYPSD for their assistance in apprehending
the suspects.
The shot switched from Nadine to a non-descript, pleasant looking man in a
standard FBI suit. Eve tuned out the statement and stalked to the closet.
Assistance my ass. They wanted no part of the op. I have a bad feeling
about this.
The in-house link beeped. Im sorry to disturb you so early, Summerset
said. But Chief Tibble and Commander Whitney are here to see the
Lieutenant.
Send them to the Lieutenants office, Roarke said. Tell them well be there
in a few minutes.
Shit, shit, shit, Dallas chanted. This is not good.
Roarke stopped her from throwing on the nearest shirt. I think you may
need a little armor, Lieutenant.
She left him to pick out the clothes and pulled on underwear and a support T.
After sliding into the brown slacks, rust shirt and light tan blazer, Dallas went
to the bathroom and ran a comb through her hair. She looked longingly at
the shower. Shed indulged last night in both the shower and Roarke and had
been looking forward to a repeat performance this morning. Scratch those
plans.
She took a moment to look in the mirror and decided to add just a dash of
enhancements. Armor Roarke had said and he was probably right.
#
Whitney and Tibble were drinking coffee and indulging in cherry Danishes
when Roarke and Dallas entered the office.
One look at their faces confirmed Eves fears, Theyre gone.
Tibble stood and moved to her, The Feds showed up last night with fully
executed transfers. Took every last suspect. They also took the comps, the
explosives, the weapons, everything. They were in and out before Whitney or
I were notified.
Whitney joined Tibble, Lieutenant, we want you to know that we are fully
aware of who stopped King, regardless of the public record.
You both did good work, Tibble added. He looked pointedly at Roarke, That
will be made clear to all parties.
Meaning the Lieutenants choice of husband should not interfere with her
advancement prospects? Roarke said neutrally.
Thats not important, Dallas waved it away. She took a deep breath,
Commander, Id like to request my leave be reinstated.
Dallas, Whitney began, then paused. He glanced at Tibble then shrugged,
Granted. Start a full two weeks from today.
Yes sir.
Dallas remained at attention while Whitney and Tibble took a moment to
down the last of Roarkes coffee then left.
Once they were alone, she kicked her desk. He knew...King knew yesterday
that the Feds would get him.
It was always a possibility, Roarke admitted.
She looked at him, Thats what you meant about the way out.
Hell never see a trial now. He might have had a chance to work a deal,
Roarke said. But now hell just disappear.
Eve considered the toes of her boots. One was scuffed from kicking the desk.
The other was polished and smooth. I cant win this one. I dont even know
where to start fighting.
They sat in silence for a moment. Roarke reached over and took her hand,
kissing the knuckles that had hit King. How about a swim, Lieutenant?
She took a deep breath, Im on vacation....you can call me Eve.
#
The group around the table echoed the meeting at the brownstone,
scientists, politicians, military renegades sat side by side. Except King now
sat at the foot while it was Jim who stood at the head of the table.
The table was not a rich wooden antique, but cold steel. No sunlight poured
through curtained windows. The dark, cold unforgiving blackness of space
surrounded them.
Ladies and gentlemen, Jim said, this is how its going to work.
The End

Misdirection in Death

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Misdirection in Death - Chapter 1

Posted by Cyrex , 13 January 2012 1,238 views

Misdirection in Death - Chapter 2

Misdirection in Death - Chapter 3

Misdirection in Death - Chapter 4

Misdirection in Death - Chapter 5

on Channel 63 or the assassinations at the UN?

Misdirection in Death - Chapter 6

Shop owner, Isis, reports she came in to assist a customer. He pulled a

If they remain sore, swell or become infected, get to a clinic immediately.

certain to capture all views of the weapon on the record.

The MT's started transporting the suspect, Peabody glanced in their

Misdirection in Death - Chapter 7

when I brought up the Kerisaki deal.

Misdirection in Death - Chapter 8

those eyes were laughing at her.

recognition program I could come up with. It all came back inconclusive.

business buy/sell orders to Caro.

Misdirection in Death - Chapter 9

Posted by Cyrex , 12 March 2012 1,002 views

Detective Peabody, I understand you are a Free-Ager.

Misdirection in Death - Chapter 10

We have Dr. Morris with the MEs office on remote.

Everyone was aware of what he hadnt said. Roarke Industries could be

Misdirection in Death - Chapter 11

Misdirection in Death - Chapter 12

One breast was cut, the other blackened....maybe electrical? A foreign

you. I suppose you caught a case.

order her barred from the house? he addressed Roarke again.

Misdirection in Death - Chapter 13

Misdirection in Death - Chapter 14

someone over to pick up the device.

Damn it, they needed him alive and capable of speech.

his concentration to question the Expert Consultant Civilian.

Misdirection in Death - Chapter 15

behavior and when.

What do you mean we dont have Brisbaines voiceprint? King asked.

Then hell die happy, King snarled.

Misdirection in Death - Chapter 16

Theyre not being seen as individuals that require moral judgment. By

English, McNab, Dallas said.

of his head to the chair next to the stranger.

Ten years ago a disservice.... was done to my family. As a result, Ive

A group of young people on a graduation trip to the city had decided to

Afraid so, Dallas agreed.

Misdirection in Death - Chapter 18

respected. It added weight to Peabodys moral judgement concept.

Maybe Callendars trace yielded something.

Lieutenant Dallas, I believe youve selected the wrong door. I understand

King took a moment to study each member of this inner circle.

Misdirection in Death - Chapter 19

he wasnt wrong -- and he wasnt -- she had a headache brewing behind

be able to talk King into some extra cash.

McNab shook his head, It wont be enough, it could never be enough.

Summerset shrugged, There was an attack on Roarkes place. The

source. He had decided to consider the brownstone a lost site.

He had survived that too...he would survive this.

Well enough, Summerset said, kneeling to check the cat.

Muldowney to Cop Central.

Whats he doing? Dallas asked.

for field tests.

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