Betrayal in Death (In Death #12)(52)

"Lieutenant? Your federal friends already have this data, and in all likelihood know where she is. They tossed you this to bog you down."

"I know it. But I still want to run it down. And I want to find where he bought the wire in East Washington. Habitually, he buys it near the hit. Let's see where -- " She broke off, turned to the signaling 'link. "Yeah, Dallas."

"Lieutenant, I think we've got something from the  p**n  sites."

"Peabody, what the hell are you wearing?"

Her aide flushed, looked down at herself and the wildly flowered ankle-skimmer she'd installed in McNab's closet for convenience. "Um, it's a robe type thing."

"And quite fetching," Roarke put in.

Peabody's flush turned into a glow as she fiddled with the bright pink lapels. "Oh, well, thanks. It's just for comfort, really. I -- "

"Save it," Eve ordered. "What have you got?"

"I've run through the sites, pulling screen names and hits until my eyes fell out. You wouldn't believe some of the handles these jerks use. Anyhow, going by profile, I figured this guy would use something classier. I started picking up hits on Sterling. Just Sterling. You know, like -- "

"Silver. I get it. Did you trace source location?"

"Well, we -- "

She was bumped rudely aside as McNab came onscreen. He wasn't wearing a robe. Or, Eve noticed with a scowl, a shirt either.

"That's when the excitement started. Now, some of these pervs use some cloaking, especially the ones with families or high-powered jobs. Don't want people to know they're getting off watching sex discs. But when I started running Sterling, the beam bounces all over hell and back. Nobody goes to that much trouble, especially on legal sites. I got him zipping transmission from Hong Kong to Prague, from Prague to Chicago, from there to Vegas II, and on."

"Give me bottom line here, McNab."

"I can't even come close to true source, especially on my home units. I'm going to take it into EDD. Better toys there. I might be able to smoke him out. I can't tell you how long, but I'll head in now and get started."

"No, you've already put in fifteen, sixteen hours today." Though it was a good bet some of the activities hadn't been of a professional nature. "I'll do it from here."

"Ah, no offense, Lieutenant, but you need pretty sharp tech skills to get through the primary layers, and after that, you gotta have magic."

Roarke simply shifted again, so that he came on-screen. "McNab" was all he said.

"Oh. Well, if you're doing it, frigid. I'll shoot what I've got going over. Like I said, the hits we got with this Sterling are on legal sites. A couple of them are on the edge, but hold up. Nothing's popped on the real nasty stuff yet, but we've got a long way to go."

"Good work. Take a break."

"We already did." He couldn't help but grin. "We're pretty recharged now."

"Thank you for sharing," Eve said dryly. "Send the data to Roarke's home office unit."

She broke transmission, wandered away to let her mind clear.

"I'll leave the tracking to you. You can pass it, at whatever stage you might be in, to Feeney and McNab in the morning. I know you've got other stuff going on."

"I'll deal with it."

"I should have told you, I have a press conference tomorrow. You might want to squeeze in one of your own."

"Already scheduled. Don't worry about me, Eve."

"Who said I was?" She heard the beep from his office. "That's your data coming in."

She tracked the wire. Now that she knew where and how to look it was remarkably simple. One length, cash purchase, the day before Werner had his "heart attack." The store, Silverworks, carried a Georgetown address. Its ad page boasted of seventy-five years in business, serving the discerning.

She imagined she would find that Yost had dropped in on several other shops that day, treating himself to a few gifts.

She did a travel search, requesting the top five hotels in the East Washington area, then switched to transpo, picking out companies who offered rentals on high-end vehicles.

She ordered her computer to cross-reference, and list any names that appeared on both scans.

While it processed, she got more coffee and decided to give her overworked eyes a rest. She didn't know how the drones in EDD managed it. She kicked back in her sleep chair, closed her eyes, and went through her mental list of priorities for the morning.

Contact the silver shops, the hotels, and vehicle rentals in East Washington and London. Request proper authority to locate Freda and Mollie Newman. Won't get it, but ask anyway. Prep for stupid damn press conference. Check Mira's progress on profile and Feeney's on the wire.

Real estate holdings. Private estates. She'd ask Roarke about that.

The lab. Pound Dickhead. The morgue. Check if remains of Jonah Talbot are ready to be released to next of kin.

Better see how Roarke's doing now. Check on that in just a minute, she thought. And it was her last thought before she dropped into sleep.

Into the dark.

Shivering in the dark, but not from the cold. Fear was like a skin of ice over her small and fragile bones, rattling them together so she could almost hear the helpless, hollow sound of them.