J. Robb - Conspiracy in Death

However, in taking lives, disregarding the rights of the people he has killed, he has removed himself from the responsibilities of his art. He is destroyer. There is no remorse, no hesitation. He is, I believe, fully aware of his actions. He has justified them in some way that will be connected to medicine. He chooses the sick, the old, the dying. They are not lives to him, but vessels. The care he takes when removing the samples indicates it is the work itself, the samples themselves, that are of importance. The vessels are no more vital than a test tube in a laboratory. Easily disposed of and replaced.

Still frowning, Eve leaned back. "Two natures."

"Your own Jekyll and Hyde. The doctor with a mission," Roarke went on, "and the evil inside him that overpowered and destroyed."

"Destroyed who?"

"The damned, the innocent. And in the end, himself."

"Good." Her eyes were coldly fierce. "The end part. Two natures," she said again. "Not split personality. That's not what she's saying."

"No, two sides of the coin. The dark and the light. We all have it."

"Don't get philosophical on me." She pushed away, needing to move while her mind worked.

"But in the end, that's what we're dealing with. His philosophy. Or hers. He takes, because he can, because he needs, because he wants. From his view, the vessels, for lack of a better word, are unimportant, medically."

She turned back. "Then we're back to the organs themselves. Their use. And the glory. Reconstruction, rejuvenation, healing of what's considered by current science to be beyond healing. What else could it be? He's found a way, or believes he can find a way, to take a dying part and give it life."

"Dr. Frankenstein. Another mad, flawed genius who was destroyed by his own mind. If we move into that area, he's not just a surgeon, but a scientist, a researcher. A seeker."

"And a politician. Damn, I need to know more about Friend, and I need to know what Feeney got out of his interview with Wo."

"Why didn't you say so? Do you want hard copy or full video/audio transcript?"

She stopped pacing as if she'd run into a wall. "You can't do that. You can't get into interview files."

He sighed lustily. "I don't know why I tolerate your constant insults. It would, however, be simpler if you got the file number and time and date stamp, but I can work without it."

"God. I don't want to know how you do it. And I don't believe I'm going to stand here and let you do it."

"Ends and means, darling. It's all just ends and means."

"I'm getting coffee," she muttered.

"Tea. Your system's had enough insults for one day. And I'll have a cup myself. The data on Friend's suicide will be up on the wall screen."

She walked to the kitchen window, away, back again. What was she doing? she asked herself. How far over the line would she go?

As far as it took, she decided, and even as she turned to the 'link, it beeped.

"Dallas."

"Got to make it fast." Peabody's face was set, her voice brisk. "Louise Dimatto was attacked at the clinic early this morning. We didn't get the data until a few minutes ago. She's at the Drake. I don't have details yet, but she's critical."

"I'm on my way."

"Dallas. Wo's at the Drake, too. Attempted self-termination is the current data. They don't think she's going to make it."

"Damn it. Did you get her into interview?"

"No. I'm sorry. And Vanderhaven's still loose. We picked up Young. He's in holding until we can get to him."

"I'm on my way."

"They won't let you see Wo or Louise."

"I'm coming in," Eve said shortly, and broke transmission.

She got as far as the nurses' station in Intensive Care before she was blocked.

"Dimatto, Louise. Room and condition."

The nurse eyed her. "Are you family?"

"No."

"I'm sorry. I can only give that information to immediate family and authorized personnel."

Eve reached down out of habit, then curled her fingers into a frustrated fist when she remembered she had no badge to slap on the counter. "Wo, Doctor Tia. Same questions."

"Same answers."

Eve took a deep breath, prepared to launch the dozen vile and frustrated curses dancing on the tongue, when Roarke stepped forward smoothly. "Nurse Simmons. Dr. Wo and I are on the board of this facility. I wonder if you could page her attending and ask him to speak with me. The name's Roarke."

Her eyes popped wide, her color rose. "Roarke. Yes, sir. Right away. The waiting area is just to your left. I'll page Dr. Waverly immediately."

"Page Officer Peabody while you're at it," Eve demanded and was met with a baleful look.

"I don't have time – "

"If you'd be so kind," Roarke interrupted, and Eve thought resentfully that he should bottle the charm oozing out of his pores for the less fortunate, "we'd very much like to speak with Officer Peabody. My wife…" He laid a hand on Eve's vibrating shoulder. "Both of us are quite anxious."

"Oh." The nurse gave Eve a considering stare, obviously stunned to realize the disheveled woman was Roarke's wife. "Certainly. I'll take care of it for you."

"Why didn't you ask her to kiss your feet while you were at it?" Eve muttered.

"I thought you were in a hurry."

The waiting room was empty but for a view screen tuned to the latest comedy series. Eve ignored it and the coffeepot that likely held the first cousin to mud.

"I bribed her into that hospital bed, Roarke. I used your money to do it so she'd get me data I couldn't get myself."

"If that's true, she made her own choice as we all do. And the one who's responsible for her being in that bed is the one who attacked her."

"She'd have done anything to whip that clinic into shape." Eve covered her eyes with the tips of her fingers, pressed hard. "It's what mattered most to her. I used her on a hunch to close a case that isn't even mine anymore. If she dies, I have to live with knowing that."

"I can't tell you you're wrong, but I'll tell you again: You didn't put her here. If you keep thinking that way, you'll go soft." He nodded when she dropped her hands back to her sides. "You're too close to finishing what you started to go soft. Shake it off, Eve, and do what you do best. Find the answers."

"Do those answers have anything to do with why my niece is in a coma?" Face haggard and grim, Cagney stepped into the room. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. "You involved Louise in business that was none of hers, put her in jeopardy for your own ends. Now, I suspect while doing work for you, she was viciously attacked and is fighting for her life."

"What's her condition?" Eve demanded.

"You have no authority here. As far as I'm concerned, you're a murderer, a corrupt cop, and a deviant. Whatever your reporter friends try to do to spin the public view, I know you for what you are."

"Cagney." Roarke's voice was soft as Irish mist. "You're overwrought and have my sympathy, but mind your step here."

"He can say what he likes." Eve stepped deliberately between them. "And so can I. I admire Louise for her purpose and her spine. She threw your fancy position in your rich-man's center right back in your face and went her own way. I'll accept whatever part I have in her being here now. Can you?"

"She had no business in that place." His handsome, pampered face was ravaged, his eyes sunk deep into shadows. "With her mind, her talent, her background. No business wasting her gifts on the scum people like you scrape off the streets night after night."

"The kind of scum that can be harvested for whatever parts might be useful, then disposed of?"

His eyes burned into hers. "The kind that would try to kill a beautiful young woman for the credits in her pocket, for the drugs she used to try to keep their pitiful lives going. The kind I imagine you sprang from. Both of you."