Witness in Death (In Death #10)(52)

"Today," she told it, "death comes to all your circuits. Will it be slow and systematic or fast and brutal?" Considering, she circled it. "Tough decision. I've waited so long for this moment. Dreamed of it."

Showing her teeth, she began to roll up her sleeves.

"What," Roarke asked from the doorway that connected their work areas, "is that?"

"The former bane of my existence. The Antichrist of technology. Do we have a hammer?"

Studying the pile on the floor, he walked in. "Several, I imagine, of various types."

"I want all of them. Tiny little hammers, big, wall-bangers, and everything in between."

"Might one ask why?"

"I'm going to beat this thing apart, byte by byte, until there's nothing left but dust from the last trembling chip."

"Hmmm." Roarke crouched down, examined the pitifully out-of-date system. "When did you haul this mess in here?"

"Just now. I had it in the car. Maybe I should use acid, just stand here and watch it hiss and dissolve. That could be good."

Saying nothing, Roarke took a small case out of his pocket, opened it, and chose a slim tool. With a few deft moves, he had the housing open.

"Hey! Hey! What're you doing?"

"I haven't seen anything like this in a decade. Fascinating. Look at this corrosion. Christ, this is a SOC chip system. And it's cross-wired."

When he began to fiddle, she rushed over and slapped at his hands. "Mine. I get to kill it."

"Get a grip on yourself," he said absently and delved deeper into the guts. "I'll take this into research."

"No. Uh-uh. I have to bust it apart. What if it breeds?"

He grinned and quickly replaced the housing. "This is an excellent learning tool. I'd like to give it to Jamie."

"What're you talking about? Jamie Lingstrom, the e-prodigy?"

"Mmm. He does a little work for me now and then."

"He's a kid."

"A very bright one. Bright enough that I prefer having him on my team rather than competing with him. It'll be interesting to see what he can do with an old, defective system like this."

"But I want it dead."

He had to smother a chuckle. It was as close to a whine as he'd ever heard from her. "There, there, darling. I'll find you something else to beat up. Or better," he said, wrapping his arms around her, "another outlet entirely for all that delightful natural aggression."

"Sex wouldn't give me the same rush."

"Ah. A dare." He accepted it by leaning down and biting her jaw. When she swore at him, he took her mouth in a hot, hungry, brain-sucking kiss.

"Okay, that was pretty good, but just what are you doing with your hands back there?"

"Hardly anything until I lock the door, and then -- "

"Okay, okay, you can have the damn thing." She shoved away from him, tried to catch her breath. Her system was vibrating. "Just get it out of my sight."

"Thank you." He caught her hand, lifted it, nibbled on her fingers as he watched her. One taste of her always made him crave another. And another. He tugged her forward, intending to nudge her into his office.

Peabody walked in.

"Sorry." She averted her eyes, tilting her head to study the ceiling. "Summerset said I should come right up."

"Good morning, Peabody." Roarke gave his wife's furrowed brow a quick brush of his lips. "Can we get you some coffee?"

"I'll get it. Don't mind me. Just a lowly aide." She muttered it as she crossed the room, giving Eve a wide berth as she aimed for the kitchen.

"She's upset about something." Roarke frowned toward the kitchen area as he listened to Peabody muttering as she programmed the AutoChef.

"She just hasn't had her morning fix yet. Take that heap of junk out of here if you want it so much. I have to get to work."

He hefted the system, discovered he had to put his back into it. "They made them a lot heavier back then. I'll be working from home until noon," he called over his shoulder, then his door closed behind him.

It was probably shallow, it was definitely girlie to have gotten such a rise out of watching that ripple of muscle. Eve told herself she wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't stirred her up in the first place.

"Peabody, bring me a cup of that."

She went behind her desk, called up the Draco file, and separating it into suspects, witnesses, evidence gathered, and lab reports, ordered all data on the screens.

"I reviewed the disc of the play last night," she began when she heard the sturdy clop of Peabody's hard-soled cop shoes cross the room. "I have a theory."

"Your coffee, Lieutenant. Shall I record, sir?"

"Huh?" Eve was studying the screens, trying to shift and rearrange data in her mind. But Peabody's stiff tone distracted her. "No, I'm just running it by you."

She turned back and saw that once again Roarke was right. Something was up with her aide. She ordered herself not to poke into the personal, and sat. "We've pretty well nailed down the time of the switch. The prop knife is clearly visible here. Computer, Visual Evidence 6-B, on screen five."

"You've marked and recorded this VE?" Peabody asked, her voice cold as February.