J. Robb - Fantasy in Death

“Okay.” Eve let that one simmer in her brain. “Power boost maybe. Roarke’s got this virtual game. You use actual weapons-guns. If the bad guy makes a hit, you feel a little jolt. So you know you’ve been hit and where. Enough to register, but not to hurt. Somebody changed the rules on Bart. But that doesn’t explain the internal burns. I get how he might have them on the skin, but the gash, the slice, those are inside, too, not just on the outside. Which means the weapon itself had to carry a charge. What’s the point? Isn’t a big, sharp sword enough?”

“It certainly would’ve been.”

She stepped over to the head, examined the neck. “And do they match up?”

“Perfectly.”

“Maybe the charge added to the thrust. Added power, so the killer didn’t need to be particularly strong. Gave the killer more leverage, speed.” She pulled off the goggles. “Face-to-face?”

“That’s how it plays,” Morris agreed.

“It would have to be fast, wouldn’t it? Damn fast. He’s not drugged, he’s not restrained, and he’s facing someone with a big sword. He’d run, try to get the hell away. He’d take it in the back, but I’m damned if he’d just stand there and get his head offed. The killer gives him a taste of it with the arm wound. Wants to see his reaction, wants to shock him. And then, one clean blow.”

She shook her head. “I’m going back to the scene.”

DuVaugne came first. She had Peabody check with his office, and as she suspected, he’d left for the day. Corporate execs and cops had neither the same work hours nor pay scale.

She didn’t begrudge him that part, but it was a pain in the ass to know she had to drive all the way uptown, then down again.

“You know,” Peabody began and Eve snarled.

“If you mention any part of anyone’s anatomy I’m shoving you out the window and into oncoming traffic.”

“I wasn’t going to, but know I’m thinking about it again. What I was going to say was about the sword. Not the euphemistic male sword, but the murder weapon. Last year I went to a con with McNab.”

“Why would you go to a con?”

“A game con-convention-in New York at the convention center. A total geek-fest, which is actually a lot more fun than it might sound.”

“Since it sounds like a nightmare in hell, it wouldn’t have to come up much to be any fun at all.”

“Well, people dress up like characters from the games, and vids and screen shows. Actors who play the characters come and sign stuff or do demos. They sell all kinds of stuff, even have auctions. High-dollar, too. There are parties and contests and seminars, and a lot of hands-on. You can play just about any game out there if you’re willing to buck the crowds, stand in line. U-Play had a big presence there, I remember. Hey, I probably saw the vic before he was a vic. Anyway, it’s three days of geekdom.”

“Gee, sign me up.”

“What I’m saying is they have weapons. Play weapons and prop weapons and virtual weapons. A big chunk of popular games deal with some sort of warfare.”

“Yeah, people never get enough of killing each other.” But, she thought, it was an interesting angle. “An electrified sword would go over big there.”

“Bet your ass. We got a pass into one of the auctions, and there was a sword-not electrified-from Elda, Warrior Queen, and it went for over five million.”

“Fucking dollars?”

“Yeah, fucking dollars. It was the one Elda used in the vid to defend her throne and all that. The games are the total. McNab and I play them.”

“Who gets to be queen?”

“Ha-ha. They’re holo-games, too, but since we don’t have a holo we only play the comp. Anyway, there are weapons galore at these cons, and plenty of vendors and collectors. You’ve got blasters and magic maces and fire lances and light sabers and disintegrators. But from what I saw, swords are the biggest deal. They’re sexier.”

An interesting angle, she thought again. A good line to tug. “I bet Bart thought how sexy it was to have his head lopped off with one. Collectors, vendors, and cons. It’s a good avenue to explore. But maybe we’ll get lucky and DuVaugne will just whip out his magic sword, we’ll blast him, and wrap this case up.”

“I know a euphemism for the p-word when I hear one.”

Eve slid to the curb in a no-parking zone and engaged her On Duty light. “If he whips out anything, we take him down.”

Laughing, Peabody climbed out. “Some place.”

If you went for steel and glass and sharp angles, Eve thought. The gold tone of the privacy window glass reflected the beam of sunlight, making her grateful for her shades. She wondered how many people had been blinded just walking by the three-story extravaganza of what was probably some post-post-modern designer’s idea of city slick. She imagined there had once been a dignified brownstone or tidy brick townhouse in that spot, destroyed or mortally wounded during the

Urban Wars. In its place stood the gleam of brushed steel framing walls of that gold-toned glass.

Maybe the occupants felt lofty inside their glass box, or enjoyed their nearly unobstructed views of the streets and city.

She’d have felt exposed and creeped. But it took all kinds.

Rather than steps from the sidewalk to the entrance a sloped ramp led the way to a platform where a motion detector immediately sent out a low beep. She scanned the dual cameras, the palm plate.

“Open view, serious locks,” she commented.

Voice recognition unaccepted. These premises do not accept solicitations. All deliveries must be cleared. No guests are expected at this time. Please identify yourself and state your business. Thank you.

“Well, it said please .” Peabody shrugged. “And thank you.”

“Yeah, real polite. I guess they don’t much like the neighborly drop-in.”

Identification is requested within ten seconds. These premises are protected by Secure-One. Identification failure will alert the authorities in ten seconds.

“Not so polite now.” Eve pulled out her badge. “Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, NYPSD. We have business with Lane DuVaugne.”

No appointment is scheduled.

“Scan the badge, and inform Mr. DuVaugne the cops are at the door. Failure to do so will result in a whole bunch more cops with a warrant arriving within thirty minutes.”

Please place your identification on the palm plate for verification scan. Thank you.

“Got its manners back,” Eve commented as she complied.

Identification verified, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, of the New York Police and Security Department. Mr. DuVaugne will be informed of your arrival. One moment, please.

It took more than a moment, but the security cleared and the door opened.

The servant droid, all skinny dignity in a stark black suit, had Eve muffling a snort. He could have been Summerset’s brother, not only in appearance, but by the derisive dismissal on his face as he peered down at her.

“Hey, he looks a lot like-”

“The biggest pain in my ass,” Eve finished, and thinking of Roarke’s majordomo smiled thinly. “Got a name, pal, or just a number?”

“I am Derby.” He’d been programmed with a tony British accent. “If you’d inform me of the nature of your business with Mr. DuVaugne I will relate same to him. Your companion has not yet identified herself.”

“Peabody, Detective Delia.” Peabody held up her badge.

“Now that we’re all nicely ID’d, you can relate to your owner that the NYPSD will speak with him here, in the comfort of his own home, or we’ll escort him to our house for a chat. That would be the less comfortable and more public Cop Central. Our business with him is none of yours. Process that.”

“I will so inform Mr. DuVaugne. You’re requested to wait in the anteroom. I have engaged all internal security cameras. Your movements and conversation are being recorded.”