J. Robb - Vengeance in Death

Satisfied with that, she handed him a disc. "Put that in. I've got a still on it you can project on screen. Enhance it to full."

He did as she requested, then studied the image. He could see the fingers of a gloved hand wrapped around a wand-shaped device. The hilt was blocked from view but the pattern of notches and buttons on the stem were clear. A light at the tip glowed green.

"It's a jammer," he said. "More sophisticated and certainly more compact than anything I've seen on the market." He stepped closer to the screen. "The manufacturer's ID – if there is one – is likely on the hilt and hidden by his hand, so that's no help. One of my R and D departments has been working on a smaller, more powerful jammer. I'll have to check the status."

That caught her off guard. "You're manufacturing this kind of thing?"

He caught the tone, smiled a little. "Roarke Industries handles a number of contracts for the government – for a number of governments, as it happens. The Defense and Security Department is always looking for new toys such as this. And they pay well."

"So a device like this might be in the works in one of your departments? Brennen was in communications. One of his research arms could have been working on one."

"It's easy enough to find out. I'll check which one of my particular arms has something along these lines on the boards, and have one of my moles check Brennen's organization."

"You have spies?"

"Data gatherers, darling. They object to being called spies. Have you got the rest of your man on here?"

"Click one back."

"Computer, display previous image on screen."

Roarke frowned at the picture and, using the vehicles for points of reference, speculated. "About five-ten, probably about one-sixty by the way that coat hangs on him. He's very pale from the looks of that swatch of skin you can see. I wouldn't say he spends a lot of time outdoors, so his profession, if he has one, is likely white collar."

Roarke tilted his head and continued. "No way to tell age, except he… holds himself youthfully. You can see part of his mouth. He's smiling. Smug bastard. His taste in outerwear is miserably inferior."

"It's a beat cop's topcoat," Eve said dryly. "But I'm inclined away from thinking he's got a connection with the department. Cops don't wear air treads, and no beat cop's going to have access to the kind of knowledge or equipment this guy has or EDD would have snatched him up. You can pick up one of those coats at a couple dozen outlets in New York alone." She waited a beat. "But we'll run it anyway."

"The van?"

"We're checking. If he didn't boost it, and it's registered in the state of New York, we'll narrow the field considerably."

"Considerably's optimistic, Eve. I probably have twenty of these vans registered in New York to various outlets. Delivery vans, maintenance units, interstaff transpos."

"It's more than we started with."

"Yes. Computer, disengage." He turned to her. "Peabody and McNab can handle a great deal of the legwork on this for the next day or two?''

"Sure. Then Feeney's back pretty soon and I'm grabbing him."

"They're finished with Jennie's body. It's being released this afternoon."

"Oh."

"I need you to come with me, Eve, to Ireland. I realize the timing might not be convenient for you, but I'm asking you for two days."

"Well, I – "

"I can't go without you." The impatience surfaced, glowed in his eyes. "I won't go without you. I can't take the chance of being three thousand miles away if this bastard tries to get to you again. I need you with me. I've already made the arrangements. We can leave in an hour."

She thought it best to walk to the window so that he couldn't see she was fighting to hold back a grin. It was dishonest, she supposed, not to tell him she'd intended to ask him to go to Dublin with her that afternoon. But it was too sweet an opportunity to miss.

"It's important to you?"

"Yes, very."

She turned back to smile at him with what she believed was admirable restraint. "Then I'll go pack."

"I want the data as it comes in." Eve paced the cabin of Roarke's private plane and stared at Peabody's sober face in her palm 'link. "Send everything to the hotel in Dublin, and send it coded."

"I'm working on the van. There are over two hundred of that make and model with privacy tint registered in New York."

"Run them down. Every one." She skimmed a hand through her hair, determined not to let a single detail slip by. "The shoes looked new. The computer should be able to estimate the size. Run the shoes, Peabody."

"You want me to run the shoes?"

"That's what I said. Sales of that brand of air tread for the last two – no, make it three months. We could get lucky."

"It's comforting to believe in miracles, Lieutenant."

"Details, Peabody. You'd better believe in the details. Cross-check with sales of the beat cop's coat, cross-check that with sales of the statue. Is McNab working on the jammer?''

"He said so." Peabody's voice chilled. "I haven't heard from him in over two hours. He's supposed to be talking to the contact Roarke gave him in Electronic Future's research and development."

"Same orders for him, all data, coded, as it's accessed."

"Yes, sir. Mavis has called a couple times. Summerset told her that you were resting comfortably and under doctor's orders couldn't receive visitors. Dr. Mira also called, and sent flowers."

"Yeah?" Surprised and disconcerted by the idea, Eve paused. "Maybe you should thank her or something. Damn, how sick am I supposed to be?"

"Pretty sick, Dallas."

"I hate that. The bastard's probably celebrating. Let's make sure he doesn't party for long. Get me the data, Peabody. I'll be back inside of forty-eight hours, and I want to nail him."

"Swinging the hammer as we speak, sir."

"Don't bash your thumb," Eve warned and ended transmission. She slipped the 'link back into her pocket and looked at Roarke. He'd been lost in his own thoughts throughout the flight, saying little. Eve wondered if it was time to tell him she'd already contacted the Dublin police and had an appointment with an Inspector Farrell.

She sat across from him, bounced her fingers on her knee. "So… are you going to take me on a tour of the favored locales from your misspent youth?"

He didn't smile as she'd hoped, but he did shift his gaze from the window to her face. "They wouldn't be particularly picturesque."

"They may not be among the tourist hot spots, but it would be helpful to brush up with some of your former friends and companions."

"Three of my former friends and companions are dead."

"Roarke – "

"No." Annoyed with himself, he held up a hand. "Brooding doesn't help. I'll take you to the Penny Pig."

"The Penny Pig?" She straightened quickly. "Brennen's wife said he used to go there. A bar, right?''

"A pub." Now he did smile. "The social and cultural center of a race who goes from mother's milk straight to stout. And you should see Grafton Street. I used to pluck pockets there. Then there are the narrow alleyways of South Dublin where I ran games of chance until I moved my portable casino into the back room of Jimmy O'Neal's butcher shop."

"Link sausage and loaded dice."

"And more. Then there was the smuggling. An adventurous enterprise and the financial foundation for Roarke Industries." He leaned forward, hooked her safety strap himself. "And even with all that experience, I had my heart stolen by a cop and had to mend my ways."

"Some of them."

He laughed and glancing out the window watched Dublin City rise toward them. "Some of them. There's the River Liffey, and the bridges shine in the sun. A lovely place is Dublin Town of an evening."

He was right, Eve decided when less than an hour later they were in the back of a limo and streaming along with traffic. She supposed she'd expected it to be more like New York, crowded and noisy and impatient. It certainly bustled, but there was a cheer beneath the pace.