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Chapter Six
Posted by
jlk
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16 October 2012
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Albee, Bench and Ulstead had refused to turn on their employer. So far. Peabody was confident she could get them to spill who had hired them to grab Eve and Mira after they enjoyed another night in the holding tanks under Cop Central, and after a nice offer to their lawyers from the APA. The other two had lawyered up, but no one believed they’d get much out of them. They were foreign professionals, only giving up their names and nationalities, German and Greek, after high priced lawyers had shown up out of nowhere very early this morning. Negotiations were already underway for them to be returned to their respective countries on outstanding warrants more impressive than assaulting a NYPSD Homicide Lieutenant and Chief Medical Examiner. The US government had dived in and Chief Tibble had sent word down to let the other two assailants face their own destiny after a surface fight to save face. Sometimes you knew you were going to lose and just had to suffer that fact.
Eve was willing to suffer, just not as much as the next criminal to threaten Mira and Morris. Her knowledge of International Law had increased through the years, but not enough to battle this. She tracked down her source, David Armadillo, who was a former acquaintance through the Dallas Child Welfare system and had become an international attorney with a fearsome reputation. After the briefest of greetings, she thrust him into the battle for jurisdiction of the two men, promising in trade to send him several of her cocktail dresses – Eve didn’t judge what the man chose to do in the privacy of his own home. Besides, if she tried to wear a dress twice Roarke had a fit. Maybe that was why he ripped so many off her, Eve suddenly speculated.
That struggle being waged, she focused on the recordings of Peabody’s interviews with the other three. The two women were working in a media play room, relaxing stretched out on couches as the discs played. Roarke had left strict orders after Eve finally convinced him to go to his office for the rest of the afternoon, that she was to work lying down, or at least reclining to keep her right leg straight per physician orders. Since Peabody and Summerset seemed to forget that she was a competent adult who could make her own decisions and raised a fuss similar to Galahad being denied food when Eve tried to work in her office, she’d been coerced into this venue. Sipping a banana flavored booster, Eve watched the discs.
They’d been well coached and were sticking to their lines, she judged. But it wouldn’t hold. When you picked up three long term criminal failures as hired help to do a job, you got three criminals who knew the system well enough to know that a few days of holding out could mean a plea bargain vastly shortening a prison sentence to barely a slap on the wrist, given the crime. The question was, “Why me and Mira?”
Peabody nodded her agreement, chewing her carrot stick. Even the vegetables tasted better at Dallas’ home. “That’s the question. At least they admitted you were both the targets. Between you, we have a list of possibilities for their boss that it would take a month to track down. They need to give us something to help narrow it down, if not an outright name. Feeney has McNab and Calendar started cross-referencing your cases with those that have connections in Germany and Greece, and surrounding countries, but it’s murky. Have you thought of transferring to SVU, Dallas? It cuts back on the perps being out of the country.” Peabody stuffed a celery stick loaded with some fancy dip into her mouth.
“Not by much,” Eve informed her, thinking she needed to get her Detective to do ride-alongs with some of the other departments. Her mindset was way too narrow sometimes. “I’d say Albee is your weak link, at least from what I’m seeing here.” She finished the booster, dutifully began to eat the piece of chocolate cake she had no doubt was stuffed with vitamins, amino acids, micro-nutrients, minerals and probably extra fat Summerset had ordered her to eat. She’d thought about convincing Peabody to eat it, but thought that would be just mean; her partner had managed to lose one point three pounds – why would anyone measure their weight like that? – and just looking at the cake had no doubt put the point three back on Peabody’s perfectly nice ass. Of course if her partner kept making her way through the vegetable tray with its choices of dips, the one pound was doubtful as well.
“I’ll take him first tomorrow morning. You ready for a nap, Dallas? You’re looking a little tired.” Peabody eyed her suspiciously. If Roarke came home and Dallas was wiped out, he’d bite her head off.
Eve felt a stab of fury at being coddled like a toddler, then was mortified as her eyes filled with the weak tears that wouldn’t seem to go away and stay gone. Blinking furiously, she focused on the screen playing the recording of Alexander Papadopoulus, saw what she had missed. “He’s tapping with his fingers. Look. Look. That’s not random, Peabody. It’s some kind of code.” She leaned forward, concentrating on the pattern.
Peabody was already tagging her cohab as Dallas gave the order to call in the EDD’s ace detective. “He’s on his way. How about a twenty minute nap until he gets here,” she coaxed her friend, then was horrified when Dallas burst into tears. She hit the button on the table calling Summerset before rushing to Dallas’ side.
“I’m fine, I’m fine” Eve muttered, swatting at Peabody’s attempt at a hug. “I just do this sometimes. Mira and Louise say it’s just me releasing toxins” or something to that effect. But the cathartic effect meant that she was already heading toward that dreaded N word, and Eve felt her eyelids being weighted down. They’d been going at this for maybe four hours. No wonder she was ready for a … she refused to even think the word nap. Dammit! She shouldn’t be so hard on herself. She’d just had to have four bags of synthetic blood to replace her own and surgery two days ago, Eve lectured herself.
“I let her overdo it,” she heard Peabody apologizing, felt Summerset’s dry cool hand on her brow. “She’s fine. A little nap and we’ll no doubt be treated to her acerbic wit” was his response. Whatever else her two comedians had to say was lost as Eve fell asleep.
Roarke was finishing his review of the universal projected sales of the Christmas electronics line they were preparing to roll out when
Caro’s voice came through the intercom. “Sir, Commander Whitney is on line fourteen.”
“Thank you. I’ll take it.” He pressed the button ordering up the call. “Jack.”
Whitney didn’t waste time. “Roarke, Mira’s been taken, grabbed right outside of Central. Where’s Eve?”
“Hold on. She and Peabody are at the mansion.” Feeling his heart rate rise, his muscles tightening, Roarke hit the button on his wrist to link with Summerset. Even as it beeped, a screen on his desk flicked to life and an urgent cacophony told him the mansion’s security was being breached.
“Roarke?” Whitney heard the alarm, saw the fleeting disturbance over the younger man’s impassive face.
Roarke ordered the cameras to wide angle at the mansion, saw McNab’s distinctive ponytail draped over the front stairs leading to the mansion doors, identifying him as the body slumped there. Security droids, automatically activated with the alarm, were pouring out of their placements around the house. “Get officers and MTs to the mansion” he ordered Whitney, cutting that connection, cueing in Davidson. “Jetcopter, now. Someone’s after Eve.”
And he bolted from his office, listening as Summerset’s link went to message.
Eve was willing to suffer, just not as much as the next criminal to threaten Mira and Morris. Her knowledge of International Law had increased through the years, but not enough to battle this. She tracked down her source, David Armadillo, who was a former acquaintance through the Dallas Child Welfare system and had become an international attorney with a fearsome reputation. After the briefest of greetings, she thrust him into the battle for jurisdiction of the two men, promising in trade to send him several of her cocktail dresses – Eve didn’t judge what the man chose to do in the privacy of his own home. Besides, if she tried to wear a dress twice Roarke had a fit. Maybe that was why he ripped so many off her, Eve suddenly speculated.
That struggle being waged, she focused on the recordings of Peabody’s interviews with the other three. The two women were working in a media play room, relaxing stretched out on couches as the discs played. Roarke had left strict orders after Eve finally convinced him to go to his office for the rest of the afternoon, that she was to work lying down, or at least reclining to keep her right leg straight per physician orders. Since Peabody and Summerset seemed to forget that she was a competent adult who could make her own decisions and raised a fuss similar to Galahad being denied food when Eve tried to work in her office, she’d been coerced into this venue. Sipping a banana flavored booster, Eve watched the discs.
They’d been well coached and were sticking to their lines, she judged. But it wouldn’t hold. When you picked up three long term criminal failures as hired help to do a job, you got three criminals who knew the system well enough to know that a few days of holding out could mean a plea bargain vastly shortening a prison sentence to barely a slap on the wrist, given the crime. The question was, “Why me and Mira?”
Peabody nodded her agreement, chewing her carrot stick. Even the vegetables tasted better at Dallas’ home. “That’s the question. At least they admitted you were both the targets. Between you, we have a list of possibilities for their boss that it would take a month to track down. They need to give us something to help narrow it down, if not an outright name. Feeney has McNab and Calendar started cross-referencing your cases with those that have connections in Germany and Greece, and surrounding countries, but it’s murky. Have you thought of transferring to SVU, Dallas? It cuts back on the perps being out of the country.” Peabody stuffed a celery stick loaded with some fancy dip into her mouth.
“Not by much,” Eve informed her, thinking she needed to get her Detective to do ride-alongs with some of the other departments. Her mindset was way too narrow sometimes. “I’d say Albee is your weak link, at least from what I’m seeing here.” She finished the booster, dutifully began to eat the piece of chocolate cake she had no doubt was stuffed with vitamins, amino acids, micro-nutrients, minerals and probably extra fat Summerset had ordered her to eat. She’d thought about convincing Peabody to eat it, but thought that would be just mean; her partner had managed to lose one point three pounds – why would anyone measure their weight like that? – and just looking at the cake had no doubt put the point three back on Peabody’s perfectly nice ass. Of course if her partner kept making her way through the vegetable tray with its choices of dips, the one pound was doubtful as well.
“I’ll take him first tomorrow morning. You ready for a nap, Dallas? You’re looking a little tired.” Peabody eyed her suspiciously. If Roarke came home and Dallas was wiped out, he’d bite her head off.
Eve felt a stab of fury at being coddled like a toddler, then was mortified as her eyes filled with the weak tears that wouldn’t seem to go away and stay gone. Blinking furiously, she focused on the screen playing the recording of Alexander Papadopoulus, saw what she had missed. “He’s tapping with his fingers. Look. Look. That’s not random, Peabody. It’s some kind of code.” She leaned forward, concentrating on the pattern.
Peabody was already tagging her cohab as Dallas gave the order to call in the EDD’s ace detective. “He’s on his way. How about a twenty minute nap until he gets here,” she coaxed her friend, then was horrified when Dallas burst into tears. She hit the button on the table calling Summerset before rushing to Dallas’ side.
“I’m fine, I’m fine” Eve muttered, swatting at Peabody’s attempt at a hug. “I just do this sometimes. Mira and Louise say it’s just me releasing toxins” or something to that effect. But the cathartic effect meant that she was already heading toward that dreaded N word, and Eve felt her eyelids being weighted down. They’d been going at this for maybe four hours. No wonder she was ready for a … she refused to even think the word nap. Dammit! She shouldn’t be so hard on herself. She’d just had to have four bags of synthetic blood to replace her own and surgery two days ago, Eve lectured herself.
“I let her overdo it,” she heard Peabody apologizing, felt Summerset’s dry cool hand on her brow. “She’s fine. A little nap and we’ll no doubt be treated to her acerbic wit” was his response. Whatever else her two comedians had to say was lost as Eve fell asleep.
Roarke was finishing his review of the universal projected sales of the Christmas electronics line they were preparing to roll out when
Caro’s voice came through the intercom. “Sir, Commander Whitney is on line fourteen.”
“Thank you. I’ll take it.” He pressed the button ordering up the call. “Jack.”
Whitney didn’t waste time. “Roarke, Mira’s been taken, grabbed right outside of Central. Where’s Eve?”
“Hold on. She and Peabody are at the mansion.” Feeling his heart rate rise, his muscles tightening, Roarke hit the button on his wrist to link with Summerset. Even as it beeped, a screen on his desk flicked to life and an urgent cacophony told him the mansion’s security was being breached.
“Roarke?” Whitney heard the alarm, saw the fleeting disturbance over the younger man’s impassive face.
Roarke ordered the cameras to wide angle at the mansion, saw McNab’s distinctive ponytail draped over the front stairs leading to the mansion doors, identifying him as the body slumped there. Security droids, automatically activated with the alarm, were pouring out of their placements around the house. “Get officers and MTs to the mansion” he ordered Whitney, cutting that connection, cueing in Davidson. “Jetcopter, now. Someone’s after Eve.”
And he bolted from his office, listening as Summerset’s link went to message.
