Calculated in Death (In Death #36)(96)

“Saving my ass? You think I’m stupid?”

“I’m told you’re really smart, e-wise. I don’t know how smart you are people-wise. You’re the last thread he needs to snip. You might think about hiding in that electronic fortress of yours, but sooner or later, he’ll get to you. We did, and it didn’t take much.”

Milo sat back, sneered. “Lawyer.”

“All right. Peabody, contact the PA, let him know Milo’s engaged his right to an attorney so there’s no need to craft that deal. And let’s get Milo his ’link call, then put him in protective lockdown, the full twenty-four/seven. We don’t want anybody saying we didn’t do everything we could to keep him alive while we have him.”

Eve swore she could see the wheels turning—or in his case, the motherboard firing—as she got to her feet. “You can pull in a fleet of lawyers, Milo, but you won’t walk out of this. We’ll have enough to tuck you away—without electronic access—for a couple decades. And that’s just with what we get out of your house. Add in the fraud charges, the tax evasion, the money laundering, book cooking, embezzlement, and you’ll be a broken old man before you see daylight.”

“You’ve got squat. You won’t find anything on my equipment, and the fraud? All that shit? Bogus.”

“Maybe you aren’t as smart as they said. Won’t find anything. Jesus, Milo, we found you, didn’t we? And I’m betting half of the parts and equipment—more than—you’ve got in your geek haven was designed, made, and sold by Roarke Industries. And the man himself is even now taking all your toys apart.”

It gave her some personal satisfaction to see his throat work at the mention of Roarke’s name.

“You think you’re the best? Please. You’re not half as good as he is. So you call that lawyer, Milo, and if you live long enough to go to trial, which is pretty damn iffy at this point, you’re going to go down, all by your lonesome, and spend the next, oh, I figure eighty years when you add it together, in a cell without so much as a PPC to play with.

“No deals for you.”

She walked toward the door.

“Wait a minute.”

“I’ve got places to go, people to see, Milo.”

“I want to know what kind of deal before I decide.”

“Oh, you want me to show you my cards, but you give me nothing? Forget it.”

She reached for the door.

“How do I know you’re not bullshitting?”

“Milo, Milo, we’ve got you cold. Why do I need to bullshit?”

“Why do you need to deal?”

“Me, I’d rather not, but the PA wants everything all tidy. Saves the taxpayers money. You’re the least of it, so they’re willing to give you a break in return for solid information. Alexander doesn’t need you anymore, Milo, and you know too much. But you can take your chances.”

“Look, look, the fraud, embezzlement, all that crap, that’s not on me. He just brought me in to hack some files, for the audit deal. Hell, it’s his company, right? If he wants to screw around with his own company, it’s his deal.”

“Lawyer or not, Milo?”

“Let’s just straighten this part out first. I don’t need a lawyer yet.”

“Your choice. Screwing around with his own company—i.e., misappropriation of funds, skimming, laundering money, defrauding other parties and so on? It’s illegal, Milo. And since he hired you, paid you, and you did work for him, you’re an accessory. You’re on the hot seat.”

“So I’ll give you the solid on it.”

“How?”

“My policy is copy and backup. I’ve got copies of all the files he had me destroy. And, you know, I like knowing the game through and through, so I hacked through his security. I’ve got names, contracts, deals. I’ve been working on his financials. It’s coming along.”

“And where do you have all this data?”

Milo shifted his skinny butt on the chair. “What’s the deal? Tell me the deal first.”

“You give me hard evidence that leads to the arrest and conviction of Sterling Alexander for murder and the state of New York will not pursue any charges of fraud, embezzlement or money laundering, or accessory thereto against you.”

“What about the e-crimes, the charges for what you pull in from my place.”

“Now you’re getting greedy. I just gave you back about fifty years of your life.”

“Come on. I can give you Alexander on a plate, and all his operatives. He’s got operations all over the place. Dummy companies, Internet scams, land fraud. You’ll put away a major case, right? How about I give you this, I testify against him, and then I just go away. Just—” He spread his hands, made a poofing sound.

“Can’t do it.” Eve gave a careless shrug. “Maybe I can talk the PA into lightening the load some.”

“Alexander’s the big fish,” Peabody put in. “We might be able to work something, Dallas. Maybe house arrest, five to ten?”

“Jesus, Peabody.” As if frustrated, Eve dragged her hand through her hair. “Might as well let him walk.”

“Give us a good faith,” Peabody told him. “You’ve got the hard on Alexander. Save us time, trouble, money. Give us some part of that. It’ll go a long way toward softening up the PA. Dallas?”