Loyalty in Death (In Death #9)(33)

Peabody opened her mouth, then shut it again in a thin line at one warning look from Eve.

“Tell him to send data to me as he gets it. Let’s ride, Peabody. I want to find Ratso.”

“I can access military data,” Peabody complained as they headed down to the garage. “It’s just a matter of going through channels.”

“McNab can swim the channels faster.”

“He’s a show-off,” she muttered and made Eve roll her eyes.

“I’ll take a show-off as long as he gets the job done fast. You don’t have to like everyone you work with, Peabody.”

“Good thing.”

“Shit, would you look at this?” Eve stopped to study her battered and abused car. Some joker had put a hand-lettered sign on the cracked rear window that read: Show mercy. Terminate me now.

“That’s Baxter’s warped sense of humor.” Eve ripped the sign away. “If I turn this sucker in to maintenance, they’ll just screw it up.” She got behind the wheel. “And they’ll take a month to do it. I’ll never get it back the way it was.”

“You’re going to have to have the windows replaced at least,” Peabody pointed out and tried to squint through the starburst of cracks on her side.

“Yeah.” She pulled out, wincing when the car shuddered. Glancing up, she saw the sky through the hole in the roof. “Let’s hope the temp controls still work.”

“I can put in a request for a replacement.”

“This is a replacement, remember?” Sulking, Eve headed south. “I’m going to take grief for this.”

“I can ask Zeke to take a look at it.”

“I thought he was a carpenter.”

“He’s good at everything. He can tinker with the innards, then you just get the glass replaced, the roof patched. It won’t be pretty, but you won’t have to turn the whole deal over to maintenance or enter the black hole of requisitions.”

Something inside the dash controls began to rattle ominously. “When could he do it?”

“Soon as you want.” She slid Eve a sidelong glance. “He’d really like to see your house. I told him about it, how you’ve got that mag old wood and furniture and stuff.”

Eve shifted in her seat. “I thought you were going to a play or something tonight.”

“I’ll tag him, tell him not to get the tickets.”

“I don’t know if Roarke has plans.”

“I’ll check with Summerset.”

“Shit. All right, okay.”

“That’s so gracious of you, sir.” Happily, Peabody took out her palm ‘link to call her brother.

They found Ratso at The Brew, contemplating a plate of what looked like undercooked brains. He blinked up as Eve slid into the booth across from him.

“These are supposed to be eggs. How come they ain’t yellow?”

“Must be from gray chickens.”

“Oh.” Apparently satisfied with that, he dug in. “So what’s up, Dallas? You got the guys who done Fixer?”

“I’ve got some lines to tug. What have you got?”

“Word is nobody sees Fixer that night. Don’t expect to, ‘cause he don’t come out at night usual. But Pokey — you know Pokey, Dallas, he deals some Zoner if he scores enough, and does some street work as an LC.”

“I don’t believe Pokey and I are acquainted.”

“Pokey’s all right. Mostly he minds his own, you know? He says how he was doing street work that night. Not much business ‘cause it’s too f**king cold to f**k, you know? But he was tapped out, so he’s out on the stroll, and he sees a van down from The Fixer’s place. Nice new one. Figures how somebody’s come around looking for some action, but there ain’t nobody in it he can see. Said he scoped it out awhile in case somebody comes back and wants a quick poke. That’s why they call him Pokey, he gives a real quick poke.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. What kind of van was it?”

Ratso toyed with his eggs and tried to look sly. “Well, see, I told Pokey you’d want to know stuff, and if it was solid data, you’d pay.”

“I don’t pay until I get the data. Did you tell him that?”

Ratso sighed. “Yeah, guess I did. Okay, okay, he says it was one of them fancy Airstreams, looked spanking, was black. Had zap security.” Ratso smiled a little. “He knows ‘cause he tried to get in and got the zap. So he’s dancing and blowing on his hand and he hears a kinda commotion down the street.”

“What kind of commotion?”

“I dunno. Like noise and maybe somebody yelling, and people coming. So he ducks around the corner in case who owns the van maybe saw him trying to break in. What he sees is two guys and one of ‘em’s carrying this big bag over his shoulder. The other — get this — is holding what Pokey says looks like a gun — like he’s seen on-screen and on discs and shit. So they toss this bag in the back, and it makes a thump when it hits. Then they get in the front and drive away.”

He scooped up more eggs, washed them down with the pissy-looking liquid in his glass. “I’m just sitting here thinking on it and wondering if I should tag you and fill you in, then here you are.” He grinned at her. “Maybe it was Fixer in that bag. Maybe they took him off in it, and did him and tossed him in the river. Maybe.”