"Oh, he is very, very good. I've never seen one that compact," Roarke told her. "Odds are he made it himself. I wonder – "
"Think about your research-and-development potential later," she ordered. "Bang. He's made us."
His body went rigid, his face slack. He didn't look so smug and superior in that instant. He looked shocked, and he looked scared. The eyes behind the fashionable lenses were jittery as they darted around the room.
He pulled the scanner out, then curled over the keyboard with the earnest devotion and intensity of the classic compu-geek.
"Coding in the virus," Roarke said quietly. "He's sweating, but he knows what he's doing. Uploading it."
He was shaking. He rubbed the back of his hand repeatedly over his lips. But he sat where he was, his gaze glued to the monitor. Then he was up, leaving his barely touched coffee, and hurrying for the door recklessly enough to run into tables, bump into people.
He was nearly running by the time he made the door. Eve saw him swing his body to the right before he disappeared and the door closed behind him.
"Out. Out and gone in what, under two minutes. Bolted a good minute before the uniforms responded and arrived on scene."
"Ninety-eight seconds by the clock," Roarke concurred. "He's fast. He's very fast."
"Yeah, he's fast, but he's shook. He was heading uptown. And he was running scared – for home."
CHAPTER EIGHT
It took him nearly an hour to stop shaking. An hour, two whiskeys, and the calmer Lucias added to the second drink.
"It shouldn't have happened. It shouldn't have been possible."
"Pull yourself together, Kevin." Lucias took out a cigarette he'd laced with just a whiff of Zoner. He lighted it, crossed his ankles. "And think. How did it happen?"
"They managed to dig under to the account name. The shielded account name."
Irritably, Lucias pulled in smoke. "You told me that would take them weeks."
"I underestimated them, obviously." Annoyance shimmered over nerves. "It can't be traced back to us in any case. But even having the account name, how could they trace me to that location, and so quickly? The police don't have the facilities, the manpower, the equipment to surveil every cyber-club in the city, and every unit in them. Then there are the matters of the privacy blocks, the standard one and the ones I implemented."
Lucias drew in smoke, then expelled it in a lazy stream. "What are the odds they just got lucky?"
"Nil," Kevin said between his teeth. "They used both superior equipment and a superior tech." He shook his head. "Why in God's name would anybody with those skills settle for a cop's salary? In the private sector, he or she could name any price."
"It takes all kinds, doesn't it? Well, this is exciting."
"Exciting? I might have been caught. Arrested. Charged with murder."
The Zoner, as always, was doing the job. "But you weren't." Willing to placate, Lucias leaned over, patted Kevin's knee. "However smart and skilled they are, we're more so. You'd anticipated this sort of possibility, and prepared for it. You infected an entire club. Very sweet. You'll be headlined in the media again." He sighed. "More points for you."
"They'll have me on security cam." Kevin inhaled slowly, exhaled slowly. In many ways, Lucias was his drug of choice, and his approval smoothed over the worst of the nerves. "I might not have altered my look if I hadn't been using a club so close by."
"Fate." Lucias began to laugh, and drew an answering grin from his friend. "It's really just fate, isn't it? And all on our side. Really, Kev, it just gets better and better. You'll take care of the account? Generate another?"
"Yes. Yes, that's no problem." Kevin shrugged that off. There was nothing he couldn't do with electronics. "They've made a great many details public, Lucias. The chat rooms, the setup. We may want to stop for a time."
"Just when it's getting interesting? I don't think so. The higher the risk, the greater the thrill. Now, at least, we know we've pitted ourselves against an adversary or adversaries that are worthy of our efforts. It adds such a flavor. Savory."
"I could keep the account open," Kevin mused. "Send out some decoys."
"Ah!" Lucias slapped a hand on the arm of his chair. "Now you're in the game. Just think of it. Think of when you have your rendezvous tomorrow night. Why, you and the lovely lady can discuss this recent horror over drinks. She shivers, delicately, over the fate of her doomed sisters. Never knowing she's fated to join them. God, it's delicious."
"Yes." The whiskey and the drug cruised inside him, turned the air he breathed into soft liquid. "It does add to the thrill."
"One thing for certain, we're not bored."
Amused now, Kevin reached over to take a hit from the laced cigarette. "And unlikely to be for some time. I know just what I'll wear tomorrow. Just how I'll look. She's so sexy. Moniqua. Even her name reeks of sex." He hesitated, hating to disappoint. "I don't know if I can go through to the end of it, Lucias. I don't know if I can kill her."
"You can. You will. One doesn't drop back a level of achievement." He smiled when he spoke. "Think of it, Kevin. You'll know, the whole time you're touching her naked body, while you bury yourself in her, that you'll be the last one to do so. That your dick pumping inside her is the last thing she'll ever know."
Kevin went hard thinking of it. "I suppose there's something to be said for the fact she'll die happy."
Lucias's laughter bounced cold around the room.
Since she was always trying to lose weight, Peabody got off the subway six blocks down from the stop nearest Eve's home. She was feeling pretty peppy about meeting at the home office site again, where the AutoChef was a treasure trove of wonders.
Another reason, she admitted, for the hike. Sort of penance before the sin. It was a solution that appealed to her Free-Ager's sensibilities. Of course in the tenants of Free-Agism there was no sin and penance, but imbalance and balance.
But that was really just semantics.
She'd grown up in a big, unwieldy family who'd believed in self-expression, had a reverence for the earth and the arts and a responsibility to be true to oneself.
She had known, it seemed she'd almost always known, that to be true to herself she needed to be an urban cop who tried to maintain… well, balance, she supposed.
She was sort of missing her family right now though. The bursts of love and surprise. And hell, the simplicity of it all. Maybe she needed to take a few days and go sit in her mother's kitchen, eat sugar cookies, and soak up some uncomplicated affection.
Because she didn't know what in God's name waswrong with her. Why she felt so sad and unsettled and dissatisfied. She had the one thing she'd wanted most in life. She was a cop, a damn good cop, under the direct command of a woman she considered the ultimate in examples.
She'd learned so much in the past year. Not just about technique, not just about procedure, but about what made the difference between that good cop and a brilliant one.
About what separated the ones who wanted to close a case from the ones who took it a level deeper, and cared about the victim. Who remembered them.
She knew she was getting better at the job every day, and she could take pride in that. She loved living in New York, seeing its face change and shift as you moved from block to block.
The city wasso full, she thought. Of people, of energy, of action. While she could go back and sit in that homey kitchen, she'd never be content living there again. She needed New York.
She was happy in her little apartment, where the space was all her own. She had steady comrades, good friends, a worthy and satisfying career.
She was dating, well, sort of dating, one of the most incredibly handsome, considerate, sophisticated men she'd ever known. He took her to galleries, to the opera, to amazing restaurants. Through Charles, she'd been exposed to not just another side of the city, but of life.