Loyalty in Death (In Death #9)(94)
“I’ll be on the tracker myself. We’ll be able to monitor your location through your heartbeat. We rigged this wrist unit.” Relieved the worst was over, he picked it up from the table. “The mike’s low frequency, so it shouldn’t pop on a scan, but its range is a joke, and you’re going to have to talk straight into it for us to pick you up. This is just backup.”
“I’ll take it.” Eve removed her own unit, replaced it. “Anything else I should know?”
“We’re positioning men all over Grand Central. You won’t be on your own. Nobody moves in until you give the go-ahead, but they’re there.”
“Good to know.”
“Dallas, any protective gear over your chest will jam the tracker.”
She stared at him. “No vest?”
“Your choice. Gear or tracker.”
“Hell, they’re more likely to blast me in the head, anyway.”
“Goddamn it.”
“Joking.” But she rubbed a hand over her mouth. “Any line on the target?”
“Nothing so far.”
“You looked over the droids at Branson T and T?”
“Yeah, they’ve got a new Brainiac line.” He smiled a little now. “New shell covering, too. Next best to skin. But they’re toys,” he added. “I didn’t see anything full size.”
“Doesn’t mean they aren’t there. Those toys capable of acting out a scene like what happened at Branson’s?”
“If they were six foot instead of six inches, yeah. I’d say. Creepy little bastards, you ask me.”
“That’s my personal ‘link,” she said when she heard the signal. “I have to take this. It’s private.”
“Okay, I’ll be outside. We’re ready to roll when you are.”
Alone, she took out her ‘link, engaged the privacy mode by unfolding and slipping on her headphones. “Dallas.”
“I have your data, Lieutenant.” Roarke’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s your shirt?”
“Somewhere. Here.” She grabbed it up. “What have you got?”
“She checks out easily if you skim the first few levels. Born in Kansas thirty-six years ago, parents are teachers, pure middle class, one sister, married with son. She went through the local school system, worked for a short time as a department store clerk. She married Branson about ten years ago, moved to New York. I assume you have all that.”
“I want what’s under it.”
“So I thought. The names her records show as parents did indeed have a daughter named Clarissa born thirty-six years ago. However, she died at the age of eight. Scraping off the levels, we find this dead child with school and employment records and a marriage license.”
“Bogus.”
“Yes, indeed. A little dip into Clarissa Stanley’s medical files indicates she hasn’t seen the age of thirty-six for some time. She’s forty-six. Tracing the data input, it appears Clarissa was reborn twelve years ago. Whoever, whatever she was before, has been wiped. I might be able to jiggle some out, but it won’t be quick.”
“That’s enough for now. She wanted a new ID, and not to carve ten years off her age.”
“If you do a bit more math, you see that she would have been exactly the same age as Charlotte Rowan when Apollo headquarters was destroyed.”
“I’ve already done the math, thanks.”
“Since I followed your avenue here, I took it a bit farther.”
“Farther where?”
“Some may disagree,” he said with a long look at her, “but people in intimate relationships generally have some common ground and a general knowledge of each other’s ambitions and activities.”
Guilt fizzed back into her chest. “Look, Roarke — “
“Shut up, Eve.” He said it so pleasantly, she did. “Since it appears Clarissa may have close ties with Rowan and Apollo, I did some back-checking on B. Donald. Nothing in particular there, except for a number of large and perhaps questionable contributions to the Artemis Society.”
“Another Greek god?”
“Yes, and Apollo’s twin. I doubt we’ll find any data on it in the banks. However, looking a generation back, I found that E. Francis Branson, B. D.‘s father, contributed large amounts to this same organization. He was also — according to CIA files — briefly an operative. He not only knew James Rowan but worked with him.”
“Which closed the link between the Bransons and the Rowans. Branson grew up with Apollo; so did Clarissa. They hooked up and kept heading down the same path. We are loyal.” She let out a breath. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Eve, how much of a risk are you about to take?”
“I’ll have backup.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“Nothing I can’t handle. I appreciate the help.”
“Any time.”
Words, many of them foolish, bubbled into her throat. And Feeney stuck his head in the door. “We have to move, Dallas.”
“Yeah, right. I’m there. Time to saddle up,” she said with a half smile at Roarke. “See you tonight.”
“Take care of what’s mine, Lieutenant.”
J.D. Robb's Books
- Indulgence in Death (In Death #31)
- Brotherhood in Death (In Death #42)
- Leverage in Death: An Eve Dallas Novel (In Death #47)
- Apprentice in Death (In Death #43)
- Brotherhood in Death (In Death #42)
- Echoes in Death (In Death #44)
- J.D. Robb
- Obsession in Death (In Death #40)
- Devoted in Death (In Death #41)
- Festive in Death (In Death #39)