«Don't you think about paying me,» he said when Eve dug into her pocket. «I went to the park this morning, had a talk with my baby girl by the tree you and your man had planted for her. Don't ever think about paying me for a favor.»
«Okay.» She thought about Crack's younger sister, and how he'd wept in Eve's arms beside her body in the morgue. «Ah, you got any plans for Thursday?»
She'd been his family. His only family.
«Gobble Day. I got me a fine-looking female. Figure we might fit some turkey-eating in between other festivities.»
«Well, if you want the full spread, without certain areas of festivities, we're having a dinner thing. You can bring your fine-looking female.»
His eyes softened, and the street jive vanished from his voice. «I appreciate that. I'd be pleased to come and bring my lady friend.» He laid the slab of his hand on Eve's shoulder. «I'll go keep watch for Nadine, even though I haven't seen either of you.»
«Thanks.»
She stepped into the room, gave it a quick study. Apparently «deluxe» meant the room had an actual bed rather than a cot or pallet. The ceiling was mirrored, which was a little intimidating. But there was a menu screen and an order slot, along with a very small table and two chairs.
She looked at the bed, and a long, liquid longing rose up in her. She'd have given up food for the next forty-eight hours for twenty minutes horizontal. Rather than risk it, she went to the menu screen and ordered a pot of coffee, two cups.
It would be hideous. Soy products and chemicals married together to, inexplicably, resemble rancid tar. But there'd be enough caffeine juiced through it to keep her awake.
She sat, tried to focus her mind on the business at hand while she waited. Her eyes drooped, her head nodded. She felt the dream crawling into her, a monster with sharp, slick claws that snatched and bit at her mind.
A white room, blazing white. Dozens upon dozens of glass coffins. She was in all of them, the child she'd been, bloody and bruised from the last beating, weeping and pleading as she tried to fight her way out.
And he stood there, the man who'd made her, grinning.
Made to order, he said, and laughed. Laughed. One doesn't work right, you just throw it away and try the next. Never going to be done with you, little girl. Never going to be finished.
She jolted out, fumbled for her weapon. And saw the pot and cups on the table, with the menu slot still closing.
For a moment, she put her head in her hands, just to get her breath back. It was okay, she'd pulled out. She'd keep pulling out.
She wondered what dreams bit at Avril's mind when they were too tired to beat them off.
When the door opened, she was pouring coffee.
«Thanks, Crack.»
«Anytime, sugar tits.» He winked, shut the door.
«Lock it,» Eve ordered. «Engage privacy mode.»
«This better be good.» Nadine complied, then dropped into the second chair. «It's past three in the morning.»
«And yet you look lovely, and apparently your tits are sugar.»
«Give me some of that poison.»
«Empty your bag on the bed,» Eve said as she poured a second cup.
«Up yours, Dallas.»
«I mean it. Empty the bag, then I'm going to scan you for electronics. This is the majors, Nadine.»
«You should be able to trust me.»
«You wouldn't be here if I didn't. But I've got to go the route.»
With obvious ill humor, Nadine opened her enormous handbag, stomped to the bed, and upended it.
Eve rose, passed her a cup of coffee, and began going through the contents. Wallet, ID, credits and debits, two herbal cigarettes in a protective case, two notepads—paper—six pencils, sharpened. One electronic notepad—disengaged—two 'links, one PPC—also disengaged. Two small mirrors, three packs of breath fresheners, a little silver box holding blockers, four tubes of lip dye, brushes—face and hair—and eleven other tubes, pots, sticks, and cakes of facial enhancers.
«Jesus. You carry all this gunk and put it on your face? Is it worth it?»
«I'll point out that it's three in the morning, and I look lovely. You, on the other hand, have shadows under your eyes a pack of psychotic killers could hide in.»
«NYPSD. We never sleep.»
«Neither do the defenders of the Fourth Estate, apparently. Did you catch my interview with Avril Icove today?»
«No, heard about it.»
«Exclusive.»
«What did you think of her?»
«Quiet, dignified elegance. Lovely in grief. A devoted mother. I liked her. Couldn't get much going on her personally as she insisted this interview deal with her father-in-law and husband, out of respect. But I'll dig down the next layers. I've got a three-part deal.»
The last two of which she would never collect, Eve thought. But there would be compensation. Big-time.
She ran a scanner over Nadine. «Believe it or not, I did all that to protect you as much as me. I'm about to break Code Blue.»
«Icove.»
«You're going to want to sit while I outline my conditions— nonnegotiable. First, we never had this conversation. You're going to go home and get rid of the 'link you used to take my transmission. You never received the transmission.»
«I know how to protect myself and a source.»
«Just listen. You've already done extensive research on the Icoves— and connected them, independently, to Jonah Wilson and Eva Hannson Samuels, and from there to Brookhollow. Your police sources would not confirm or deny any of your research. You're going to make a trip to Brookhollow. You'll need that on your logs. You're going to connect the murder of Evelyn Samuels to those of the Icoves.»
Nadine started scribbling. «That's the Academy's president. When was she murdered?»
«Find out. You're going to be curious and smart enough to run ID checks on the students and cross them with same on former students. In fact, you've already done that.» Eve drew a sealed disc out of her pocket. «Get this in your log. Get your prints, only your prints on the disc.»
«What's on it?»
«More than fifty student IDs that match—exactly match—former students' IDs. Falsified data. Make another copy, put it wherever you put data you want to protect from confiscation.»
«What were the Icoves doing that required falsifying data on students?»
«Cloning them.»
Nadine broke the tip of her pencil as her head snapped up. «You're serious.»
«Since the Urban Wars.»
«Sweet little Baby Jesus. Tell me you have proof.»
«I not only have proof, I have three clones known as Avril Icove under house restriction.»
Nadine goggled. «Well, fuck me sideways.»
«I've had a long day, I'm too tired for sex games. Start writing, Nadine. When we're finished you go home, you make an electronic trail that'll verify you found this information. You burn those notes and make new ones. Get to Brookhollow and dig. You can contact me, and probably should, demanding confirmation or denial. I'll give you neither, and that's on record. I'll go to my superiors with the fact that you're sniffing this out. I have to. So sniff fast.»
«I've already done a lot of the legwork, put some of this together. I didn't jump this far. I figured gene manipulation, designer babies, black-market fees.»
«That's in there, too. Get it all. I've got a day, maybe a few hours more, before the whistle's blown and the government steps in. They'll cover it. Spin what they can't bury. So get it all, get it fast. I'm going to give you everything I can, then I'm walking out. I won't give you any more. I'm not doing you a favor,» Eve added. «If you go out with this, you're going to take a lot of heat.»
«I know how to handle heat.» Nadine's eyes were razor sharp as she continued to write. «I'll be soaking in the rays while I blow this open.»