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Ransom in Death - Chapter 9
Posted by
Cyrex
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29 October 2012
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Suits, Dallas thought, so many suits. It looked like one of Roarke’s board meetings instead of one of her team briefings. Whitney came in, representing NYPSD, he was in a suit too. Fortunately Roarke had talked her into a power suit before heading to the downtown Federal building hosting the FBI.
Assistant Director Dolby was in what Dallas thought of as the geek corner. Roarke and a couple of the FBI computer specialists were going over the presentation. Homeland Security and the Secret Service were attending remotely. It added a layer of complexity that she didn’t usually have to deal with. While it wasn’t unusual for the FBI to have the remotes, today’s briefing was not in a room designated for holo conferencing. Too many people without the proper clearance level were attending live. They were having to rig a mobile remote.
Roarke nudged a tech aside and pulled out the keyboard, going manual. He was speaking into a headset and a few minutes later three women and two men appeared in the main holo staging area.
“He knows his electronics,” a man’s voice came from behind her. She turned and looked up and up. At least 7 feet of muscles in a beautifully fitted gray suit, a welcome relief from the agency black, greeted her.
“He manufactures it, sells it, uses it. Roarke believes in knowing his product,” Dallas said absently while studying his face. “Wes Sullivan with the Knicks. I shed a tear when you retired. Didn’t know you’d hooked up with the Feds.”
“Not exactly, I’m acting as a consultant, like you, Lieutenant Dallas. I run an exclusive Security firm. I’ve got a couple of clients who have been impacted by this Ransom Con. Maybe you can tell me why the Feds suddenly decided to bring me in,” he looked down at her speculatively. “I’ve been beating my head against a brick wall for the last eighteen months.”
AD Dolby moved to the podium. Everyone in the room started looking for a seat. Dallas nodded toward the front of the room, “I think you’re about to get your answer.”
“Ladies and Gentlemen, recent developments in the recurring ransom cases have led to bringing in consultants from the NYPSD and Sullivan Security. The NYPSD has agreed to handle this as a Code Blue situation, this status will include their consultants,” he glanced pointedly at Roarke who had moved from the keyboard and now stood leaning against the wall.
“Mr. Sullivan has agreed to limit the information he provides his clients to those cases that impact them only.”
Wes nodded slightly.
“Two days ago, in a traffic accident, a woman initially identified as Margaret “Peggy” McKenzie died in a traffic accident. The NYPSD discovered inconsistencies with her official information and upon deeper research found a match with Barbara Prince.”
On screen the ID photo of Margaret McKenzie went up side-by-side with Barbara Prince. A third picture from the videos sent to Justice Prince came up on screen.
“It was further discovered that the law enforcement databases had been hacked preventing facial recognition software from properly identifying McKenzie. The automatic notification that should have alerted the FBI when the ID was made was also disabled.”
“The man posing as George McKenzie,” his image now flashed before the team, “also was disabled from facial recognition, even using his mug shot. We found this hack had encompassed local, federal and international databases.”
The screen cleared and was replaced with side by side photos of three men and one woman. “We had four other verified long-term ransom kidnappings. Thanks to Lt. Dallas and Roarke, we have now been able to confirm a fifth.” Carolyn Rogers smiling face joined the other four.
“Two, Greg Abbott and Patrick Jenner are also being investigated by Mr. Sullivan. He has provided the information gathered by his agency, as did David Rogers provide information he has amassed on Carolyn Rogers disappearance. Mr. Sullivan?”
Wes Sullivan went to the podium, “Greg Abbott was taken twenty-six months ago. I was called in two months later when his partner, Simon Kincaid, felt there was insufficient progress. Abbott lives in Seattle. We’ve established he left a session with his doctor at 1:30 pm, got on the elevator, but we can find no witnesses that he exited the elevator. His car was still in the garage. The elevator camera was disabled at 1:31 pm and came back on line ten minutes later. There is no record if the elevator went up, or down.”
“Six months later I was contacted by Kim Jenner. She had been receiving the same type of ransom demands and videos for 12 months. Her husband, Patrick Jenner, had been visiting a clinic, doing research for a part Kim was scheduled to do. He made three of his five interviews at the clinic. His next interview was scheduled two floors down. Cameras caught him leaving the interview room, then there was another glitch, 13 minutes this time. He never made it to the interview.”
“Greg had special medical needs. His grandparents on both sides were exposed to Octogon 251 during the Urbans. His condition is controllable, but does require regular injections or his skin develops a heavy dermal layer permanently. In the videos sent to Simon, Greg does not demonstrate any symptoms.”
A shot from the videos came on the screen and was placed next to the ID shot of Greg Abbott. The thin, pale Abbott was replaced with a more robust man with a buzz cut, heavy bags under his eyes and muscles stretching his shirt. “The physique improvement has been gradual over the two years, leading to speculation that he has either been undergoing training or has a job that requires physical labor. All the videos have been interiors to prevent identifying the location. Discussion of sporting events have been used to verify the timeframe of the video. Abbott knew and cared nothing about sports.”
“We’ve been tracking purchases of the major drugs used to counteract Octogon 251 but to date nothing has led us to Abbott. This led to the conclusion that the kidnapper has access to the drug without need a special buy....a doctor or pharmacist for example.
“When he was originally taken, Patrick Jenner had one of the most recognizable faces in the country,” Wes glanced towards Roarke, thinking his face was as recognizeable. “The fairytale romance and marriage of Patrick and Kim is Hollywood legend. Kim’s decision to take his name,” Sullivan struggled not not to look Dallas’ way, “and the three blockbuster movies they starred in together made them Hollywood favorites. Patrick’s decision to stop acting to manage his wife’s career caused a major stir.”
“The total lack of sightings is puzzling. We get more reports of Elvis sightings than Jenner sightings,” a spatter of appreciative laughter rippled through the room, puzzling Eve.
“If he went anywhere publically, the paparazzi would find him. This is more than the facial recognition programs being blocked. It’s like he’s fallen off the face of the earth. If it weren’t for the quarterly videos, I’d advise my client he was dead.”
Sullivan made a few more observations, all speculations. Dallas was called up next.
She stood at the podium, a long lean woman in an exquisitely tailored deep burgandy suit with a white collared blouse underneath the jacket and dark brown half boots appearing below the crisp crease of her slacks. Her hair, recently styled for the Senate hearings, looked casual but professional. Brandy-colored eyes took in the room with cop precision.
When the room settled after the change in speakers, Dallas started, “Detective Baxter and Office Trueheart visited the home of George and Margaret McKenzie. A number of drugs, including those found in Margaret McKenzie’s, aka Barbara Prince, system were located. The screen was limited to five channels that would provide her no current events, news or any window to the outside world.
They made contact with a neighbor, Delilah Bernard, who had befriended Prince. She agreed to come in and speak with NYSPD’s Dr. Charlotte Mira.
Mira appeared next to Dallas in holo form. “Dr. Mira, what is our impression of Ms. Bernard?”
“She’s an interesting woman. She sees herself as the lynchpin of her small community, and as such she expects to be made included in everything. Margaret and George McKenzie were mysteries to her, which deeply offended her. She befriended Margaret in hopes of solving the mystery, only to have the mystery grow.”
“She reported that McKenzie left Prince alone for long periods of time,” Dallas started.
Mira nodded, “That’s what she says. EDD is finding trace of George McKenzie at Atlantic City, Las Vegas, even one trip to Monte Carlo. It corroborates her story.”
“Is it possible she was brought in to watch Prince in McKenzie’s absence?” Dallas asked.
Mira pursed her lips and considered. “She has lived in Eastport, Maine her entire life. It’s unlikely she was brought in to watch Prince initially. However, given her drive to be part of a mystery, it is possible that McKenzie convinced her to keep an eye on Prince in his absence. She could have potentially given Prince the drugs and reinforced the history that had been created for her. She did mention if Prince didn’t take the drugs she got horrible headaches.”
“Is that a side effect of the drugs?” Dallas asked.
“Not the primary drugs, but there are a couple of additives that are addictive. Withdrawal symptoms for most users would include headaches. This would encourage the victims to continue taking the drugs,” Mira explained.
“What other symptoms would be experienced,” Dallas wanted to know.
“Headache is the most common, sweats, dizziness, tremors, nausea.... Dallas, someone sensitive to this drug could go into convulsions if deprived of the drug cold turkey. It’s not impossible they could die.”
As soon as Dallas got in the vehicle’s passenger side, she felt her eyes drooping. She really didn’t want to take the 30 minute trip out to the DeBlass home, but they were friends of Roarke and had specifically offered their home for Roarke’s use when in East Washington. It should be worth a few marriage points.
Dozing, the long day circled in her head. After Mira’s bombshell, the head geek of the geek squad had taken the podium and explained his plan to track down the hacker, clear all the hacks and start a new search for the missing. A look at Roarke, told Dallas he didn’t agree with the plan and would probably be doing his own research.
After the Q & A portion of the meeting, she sat down with all the files and began reading through them. They were good enough, but similarities were missed because they didn’t obviously appear in all of the files. She had a running list that she planned to have followed up.
The vehicle came to a stop and Roarke gently nudged her, “Wake up, Eve, you’ll be more comfortable in a bed.”
There was no way, Eve thought drowsily, that she had slept long enough to make it out of East Washington and into the countryside.
Roarke opening the passenger side and pulling her up and out, had her opening her eyes....a garage.
“What?”
A gentle caress down her left cheek, brought her attention to Roarke’s brilliant blue eyes, where a mixture of concern and amusement danced.
“I thought you’d prefer someplace closer. This rental is temporarily empty. I had Caro,” Roarke referred to his terrifyingly efficient admin, “get the real estate agent to open it for us.”
Dallas pushed off from the ground and wrapped her legs and arms around her husband giving him a big kiss. “I love you, love you, love you,” she said between kisses.
Stunned at the suddenness of her response, Roarke stumbled slightly then tightened his grip on her. He started to the door into the house. Dallas reached over and turned the knob, allowing them to enter the house, while she continued peppering him with kisses.
“Christ, Eve, give me a minute,” Roarke started towards the stairs and the bedroom above.
“Don’t have a minute,” Eve advised. “Now.”
Desperate, Roarke turned to the left and into what he prayed was the living room. It was.
When they thought of it again...and they would ... neither remembered how the clothes came off or what words were whispered. They only remembered the need that had bloomed within Eve when Roarke thought to provide her this place and within Roarke when Eve chanted her love spontaneously.
Three years and still the passion was hot and ripe. Roarke’s lips roamed her body freely, while she arched into his caresses. Her own hands glided down the bunched muscles of his back and her nails made the return trip, adding just a touch of pain that sent Roarke higher. He knew her and she knew him.
When he filled her they both stopped and sighed, a moment of appreciation hanging in time. Roarke began thrusting, sending them both rushing to the edge and over into oblivion.
A few minutes later, with Dallas’ head pillowed on his shoulder, Roarke mused, “Remind me to take you to more rental houses.”
Eve snorted and gave him a short punch, “It’s not fair, I was going to earn major marriage points by going out to the DeBlass place. Then you do this and steal all my points.”
Roarke squeezed, “First, our marriage is not a game where we keep points. And if it was,” he looked significantly down their naked bodies entwined and clothes strewn everywhere, “I’d say you earned all kinds of points.”
Eve laughed again and drew lazy circles on Roarke’s chest, “You didn’t tell me your friend David Rogers looked like a movie star.”
“Does he?” Roarke wondered if a second round would be possible so soon in response to Eve’s caresses. “Who?”
“The one in your vids, Clark Kent,” she answered, her hand moving down Roarke’s chest to a more interesting target.
“Clark Kent is Superman’s secret identity,” Roarke reminded her. After the “Fantastical” murders Roarke had decided Eve’s lack of familiarity with Batman and Alfred should be addressed. He introduced her to the world of Comic Books.
He shouldn’t have been surprised she saw them as vigilantes that should be taken off the street. If it was up to Eve, the Masked Crusader, the son of Krypton and the boy with a radioactive spider bite would all be doing time.
To Roarke’s regret, Eve’s hand stopped its downward motion as she tried to capture the name, “I know Clark is right....” her attention was now diverted to remember. Anxious to return his attention to him, he tried to think of what star David Rogers might look like to Eve.
“Clark Table...” she said triumphantly.
“Gable, Clark Gable?” Roarke asked, trying to see it. “He doesn’t have the ears for it.”
Dallas boosted herself up on an elbow and glared down at him, “Do you want to discuss the size of Rogers’ ears or...”
In seconds she was flat on her back with Roarke over her...”I choose or.”
He kissed her, effectively stopping any further discussion of David Rogers. It was becoming clear they could manage another round so soon. His mouth cruised to the spot where neck met shoulder. He playfully nipped there. Eve’s toes curled.
Somewhere in the room, a link sounded.
They froze. Roarke pulled back and locked eyes with Eve.
The link sounded again.
Sighing they started searching for it. Roarke found it in the burgandy trousers. “It’s yours,” Roarke said.
She took it from him, “Block Video. Dallas.”
“Lieutenant Dallas,” Justice Prince’s voice came over the link, “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I have someone here with whom you need to speak.”
“That’s fine, sir,” Dallas said, gathering a pile of her clothes. “I can be there in...” she looked questioningly over at Roarke.
To her regret, he had just finished pulling on his pants, “15, no make it 20. We’ll want to change.”
“20 minutes,” Dallas told the Justice. “Will that work?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Dallas stood up nude with her fine, expensive power suit, wadded up in a ball. “I hope you had some casual clothes sent.”
“Of course, I have to watch those marriage points.”
Assistant Director Dolby was in what Dallas thought of as the geek corner. Roarke and a couple of the FBI computer specialists were going over the presentation. Homeland Security and the Secret Service were attending remotely. It added a layer of complexity that she didn’t usually have to deal with. While it wasn’t unusual for the FBI to have the remotes, today’s briefing was not in a room designated for holo conferencing. Too many people without the proper clearance level were attending live. They were having to rig a mobile remote.
Roarke nudged a tech aside and pulled out the keyboard, going manual. He was speaking into a headset and a few minutes later three women and two men appeared in the main holo staging area.
“He knows his electronics,” a man’s voice came from behind her. She turned and looked up and up. At least 7 feet of muscles in a beautifully fitted gray suit, a welcome relief from the agency black, greeted her.
“He manufactures it, sells it, uses it. Roarke believes in knowing his product,” Dallas said absently while studying his face. “Wes Sullivan with the Knicks. I shed a tear when you retired. Didn’t know you’d hooked up with the Feds.”
“Not exactly, I’m acting as a consultant, like you, Lieutenant Dallas. I run an exclusive Security firm. I’ve got a couple of clients who have been impacted by this Ransom Con. Maybe you can tell me why the Feds suddenly decided to bring me in,” he looked down at her speculatively. “I’ve been beating my head against a brick wall for the last eighteen months.”
AD Dolby moved to the podium. Everyone in the room started looking for a seat. Dallas nodded toward the front of the room, “I think you’re about to get your answer.”
“Ladies and Gentlemen, recent developments in the recurring ransom cases have led to bringing in consultants from the NYPSD and Sullivan Security. The NYPSD has agreed to handle this as a Code Blue situation, this status will include their consultants,” he glanced pointedly at Roarke who had moved from the keyboard and now stood leaning against the wall.
“Mr. Sullivan has agreed to limit the information he provides his clients to those cases that impact them only.”
Wes nodded slightly.
“Two days ago, in a traffic accident, a woman initially identified as Margaret “Peggy” McKenzie died in a traffic accident. The NYPSD discovered inconsistencies with her official information and upon deeper research found a match with Barbara Prince.”
On screen the ID photo of Margaret McKenzie went up side-by-side with Barbara Prince. A third picture from the videos sent to Justice Prince came up on screen.
“It was further discovered that the law enforcement databases had been hacked preventing facial recognition software from properly identifying McKenzie. The automatic notification that should have alerted the FBI when the ID was made was also disabled.”
“The man posing as George McKenzie,” his image now flashed before the team, “also was disabled from facial recognition, even using his mug shot. We found this hack had encompassed local, federal and international databases.”
The screen cleared and was replaced with side by side photos of three men and one woman. “We had four other verified long-term ransom kidnappings. Thanks to Lt. Dallas and Roarke, we have now been able to confirm a fifth.” Carolyn Rogers smiling face joined the other four.
“Two, Greg Abbott and Patrick Jenner are also being investigated by Mr. Sullivan. He has provided the information gathered by his agency, as did David Rogers provide information he has amassed on Carolyn Rogers disappearance. Mr. Sullivan?”
Wes Sullivan went to the podium, “Greg Abbott was taken twenty-six months ago. I was called in two months later when his partner, Simon Kincaid, felt there was insufficient progress. Abbott lives in Seattle. We’ve established he left a session with his doctor at 1:30 pm, got on the elevator, but we can find no witnesses that he exited the elevator. His car was still in the garage. The elevator camera was disabled at 1:31 pm and came back on line ten minutes later. There is no record if the elevator went up, or down.”
“Six months later I was contacted by Kim Jenner. She had been receiving the same type of ransom demands and videos for 12 months. Her husband, Patrick Jenner, had been visiting a clinic, doing research for a part Kim was scheduled to do. He made three of his five interviews at the clinic. His next interview was scheduled two floors down. Cameras caught him leaving the interview room, then there was another glitch, 13 minutes this time. He never made it to the interview.”
“Greg had special medical needs. His grandparents on both sides were exposed to Octogon 251 during the Urbans. His condition is controllable, but does require regular injections or his skin develops a heavy dermal layer permanently. In the videos sent to Simon, Greg does not demonstrate any symptoms.”
A shot from the videos came on the screen and was placed next to the ID shot of Greg Abbott. The thin, pale Abbott was replaced with a more robust man with a buzz cut, heavy bags under his eyes and muscles stretching his shirt. “The physique improvement has been gradual over the two years, leading to speculation that he has either been undergoing training or has a job that requires physical labor. All the videos have been interiors to prevent identifying the location. Discussion of sporting events have been used to verify the timeframe of the video. Abbott knew and cared nothing about sports.”
“We’ve been tracking purchases of the major drugs used to counteract Octogon 251 but to date nothing has led us to Abbott. This led to the conclusion that the kidnapper has access to the drug without need a special buy....a doctor or pharmacist for example.
“When he was originally taken, Patrick Jenner had one of the most recognizable faces in the country,” Wes glanced towards Roarke, thinking his face was as recognizeable. “The fairytale romance and marriage of Patrick and Kim is Hollywood legend. Kim’s decision to take his name,” Sullivan struggled not not to look Dallas’ way, “and the three blockbuster movies they starred in together made them Hollywood favorites. Patrick’s decision to stop acting to manage his wife’s career caused a major stir.”
“The total lack of sightings is puzzling. We get more reports of Elvis sightings than Jenner sightings,” a spatter of appreciative laughter rippled through the room, puzzling Eve.
“If he went anywhere publically, the paparazzi would find him. This is more than the facial recognition programs being blocked. It’s like he’s fallen off the face of the earth. If it weren’t for the quarterly videos, I’d advise my client he was dead.”
Sullivan made a few more observations, all speculations. Dallas was called up next.
She stood at the podium, a long lean woman in an exquisitely tailored deep burgandy suit with a white collared blouse underneath the jacket and dark brown half boots appearing below the crisp crease of her slacks. Her hair, recently styled for the Senate hearings, looked casual but professional. Brandy-colored eyes took in the room with cop precision.
When the room settled after the change in speakers, Dallas started, “Detective Baxter and Office Trueheart visited the home of George and Margaret McKenzie. A number of drugs, including those found in Margaret McKenzie’s, aka Barbara Prince, system were located. The screen was limited to five channels that would provide her no current events, news or any window to the outside world.
They made contact with a neighbor, Delilah Bernard, who had befriended Prince. She agreed to come in and speak with NYSPD’s Dr. Charlotte Mira.
Mira appeared next to Dallas in holo form. “Dr. Mira, what is our impression of Ms. Bernard?”
“She’s an interesting woman. She sees herself as the lynchpin of her small community, and as such she expects to be made included in everything. Margaret and George McKenzie were mysteries to her, which deeply offended her. She befriended Margaret in hopes of solving the mystery, only to have the mystery grow.”
“She reported that McKenzie left Prince alone for long periods of time,” Dallas started.
Mira nodded, “That’s what she says. EDD is finding trace of George McKenzie at Atlantic City, Las Vegas, even one trip to Monte Carlo. It corroborates her story.”
“Is it possible she was brought in to watch Prince in McKenzie’s absence?” Dallas asked.
Mira pursed her lips and considered. “She has lived in Eastport, Maine her entire life. It’s unlikely she was brought in to watch Prince initially. However, given her drive to be part of a mystery, it is possible that McKenzie convinced her to keep an eye on Prince in his absence. She could have potentially given Prince the drugs and reinforced the history that had been created for her. She did mention if Prince didn’t take the drugs she got horrible headaches.”
“Is that a side effect of the drugs?” Dallas asked.
“Not the primary drugs, but there are a couple of additives that are addictive. Withdrawal symptoms for most users would include headaches. This would encourage the victims to continue taking the drugs,” Mira explained.
“What other symptoms would be experienced,” Dallas wanted to know.
“Headache is the most common, sweats, dizziness, tremors, nausea.... Dallas, someone sensitive to this drug could go into convulsions if deprived of the drug cold turkey. It’s not impossible they could die.”
#
As soon as Dallas got in the vehicle’s passenger side, she felt her eyes drooping. She really didn’t want to take the 30 minute trip out to the DeBlass home, but they were friends of Roarke and had specifically offered their home for Roarke’s use when in East Washington. It should be worth a few marriage points.
Dozing, the long day circled in her head. After Mira’s bombshell, the head geek of the geek squad had taken the podium and explained his plan to track down the hacker, clear all the hacks and start a new search for the missing. A look at Roarke, told Dallas he didn’t agree with the plan and would probably be doing his own research.
After the Q & A portion of the meeting, she sat down with all the files and began reading through them. They were good enough, but similarities were missed because they didn’t obviously appear in all of the files. She had a running list that she planned to have followed up.
The vehicle came to a stop and Roarke gently nudged her, “Wake up, Eve, you’ll be more comfortable in a bed.”
There was no way, Eve thought drowsily, that she had slept long enough to make it out of East Washington and into the countryside.
Roarke opening the passenger side and pulling her up and out, had her opening her eyes....a garage.
“What?”
A gentle caress down her left cheek, brought her attention to Roarke’s brilliant blue eyes, where a mixture of concern and amusement danced.
“I thought you’d prefer someplace closer. This rental is temporarily empty. I had Caro,” Roarke referred to his terrifyingly efficient admin, “get the real estate agent to open it for us.”
Dallas pushed off from the ground and wrapped her legs and arms around her husband giving him a big kiss. “I love you, love you, love you,” she said between kisses.
Stunned at the suddenness of her response, Roarke stumbled slightly then tightened his grip on her. He started to the door into the house. Dallas reached over and turned the knob, allowing them to enter the house, while she continued peppering him with kisses.
“Christ, Eve, give me a minute,” Roarke started towards the stairs and the bedroom above.
“Don’t have a minute,” Eve advised. “Now.”
Desperate, Roarke turned to the left and into what he prayed was the living room. It was.
When they thought of it again...and they would ... neither remembered how the clothes came off or what words were whispered. They only remembered the need that had bloomed within Eve when Roarke thought to provide her this place and within Roarke when Eve chanted her love spontaneously.
Three years and still the passion was hot and ripe. Roarke’s lips roamed her body freely, while she arched into his caresses. Her own hands glided down the bunched muscles of his back and her nails made the return trip, adding just a touch of pain that sent Roarke higher. He knew her and she knew him.
When he filled her they both stopped and sighed, a moment of appreciation hanging in time. Roarke began thrusting, sending them both rushing to the edge and over into oblivion.
A few minutes later, with Dallas’ head pillowed on his shoulder, Roarke mused, “Remind me to take you to more rental houses.”
Eve snorted and gave him a short punch, “It’s not fair, I was going to earn major marriage points by going out to the DeBlass place. Then you do this and steal all my points.”
Roarke squeezed, “First, our marriage is not a game where we keep points. And if it was,” he looked significantly down their naked bodies entwined and clothes strewn everywhere, “I’d say you earned all kinds of points.”
Eve laughed again and drew lazy circles on Roarke’s chest, “You didn’t tell me your friend David Rogers looked like a movie star.”
“Does he?” Roarke wondered if a second round would be possible so soon in response to Eve’s caresses. “Who?”
“The one in your vids, Clark Kent,” she answered, her hand moving down Roarke’s chest to a more interesting target.
“Clark Kent is Superman’s secret identity,” Roarke reminded her. After the “Fantastical” murders Roarke had decided Eve’s lack of familiarity with Batman and Alfred should be addressed. He introduced her to the world of Comic Books.
He shouldn’t have been surprised she saw them as vigilantes that should be taken off the street. If it was up to Eve, the Masked Crusader, the son of Krypton and the boy with a radioactive spider bite would all be doing time.
To Roarke’s regret, Eve’s hand stopped its downward motion as she tried to capture the name, “I know Clark is right....” her attention was now diverted to remember. Anxious to return his attention to him, he tried to think of what star David Rogers might look like to Eve.
“Clark Table...” she said triumphantly.
“Gable, Clark Gable?” Roarke asked, trying to see it. “He doesn’t have the ears for it.”
Dallas boosted herself up on an elbow and glared down at him, “Do you want to discuss the size of Rogers’ ears or...”
In seconds she was flat on her back with Roarke over her...”I choose or.”
He kissed her, effectively stopping any further discussion of David Rogers. It was becoming clear they could manage another round so soon. His mouth cruised to the spot where neck met shoulder. He playfully nipped there. Eve’s toes curled.
Somewhere in the room, a link sounded.
They froze. Roarke pulled back and locked eyes with Eve.
The link sounded again.
Sighing they started searching for it. Roarke found it in the burgandy trousers. “It’s yours,” Roarke said.
She took it from him, “Block Video. Dallas.”
“Lieutenant Dallas,” Justice Prince’s voice came over the link, “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I have someone here with whom you need to speak.”
“That’s fine, sir,” Dallas said, gathering a pile of her clothes. “I can be there in...” she looked questioningly over at Roarke.
To her regret, he had just finished pulling on his pants, “15, no make it 20. We’ll want to change.”
“20 minutes,” Dallas told the Justice. “Will that work?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Dallas stood up nude with her fine, expensive power suit, wadded up in a ball. “I hope you had some casual clothes sent.”
“Of course, I have to watch those marriage points.”
