yet?”
“Possibly.” His smile turned to a cold, feral grin.
“Well, when you’re done scaring the piss out of whoever, I’m in here.”
She started to go straight to her command center, then stopped and recalculated.
If she ordered up breakfast before he did, there would be no possibility of oatmeal or of something sneaky like spinach hiding in an omelet.
“Pancakes,” she murmured, and made it happen before she got to work.
The over ten thousand members stunned her. But then Roarke had, correctly, she thought, included all the boroughs, and the near reaches of New Jersey and Connecticut.
And, being Roarke, he’d ordered secondary searches.
Just New York, just Manhattan, which cut those numbers to just under six thousand, and just over two, respectively.
Too many, she admitted—and as a cop she shouldn’t have been surprised to find so many bigoted nutballs.
His search criteria for members in that geographic area with violent records dropped the number down to just over three thousand for the whole thing, and seven hundred and change for Manhattan.
She considered, drummed her fingers.
“Computer, continue search adding the following filters. First, search for violent crimes against persons—exclude animals and property. Second, search multiple counts, all violent crimes. Third, multiple counts against persons only.”
Acknowledged. Working …
She sat back with her coffee.
She started to swivel to study her board, and Galahad leaped on her counter. Stared, stared deeply, with those bicolored eyes.
“I know you’ve already eaten, so that won’t work.”
He stepped down into her lap. “No more food for you, tubby.”
But she scratched his head as the comp announced completion of the first search.
“Display. Okay, better.”
By the time Roarke came out, she had the new searches complete.
“After whoever pissed him/her/themselves, did they offer to pay you to buy their planet?”
“Manufacturing complex, not a planet, and we’ll say we came to terms. Breakfast in here, is it?”
Obviously amenable, he walked to the doors, opened them to the little terrace and the dawn of a May morning. He stood there, looking out, in his pale gray suit, dark blue tie, and shirt that somehow blended both colors.
Eve paused her work, gave Galahad another rub before dumping him. She went to Roarke, slipped her arms around him.
“Now, this is a lovely way to start the day.”
“Better than scaring the piss out of people?”
“Even better than that.” He tipped her face up, kissed her. “I thought you’d sleep longer.”
“Me, too. But I woke up, started thinking, and that was that. Gives me a jump.”
“Which you’ve made use of already.” After running a hand down her hair, he turned to the table to pour them both coffee. “What did you find in the search?”
“That there are ten thousand—and change—people who are bat-shit crazy in the geographical area.”
“Well now, I expect there are more than that, but I wouldn’t say everyone who joined Natural Order is bat-shit. People seek tribes,” he said as they sat. “Justifications for their own worldview. Others are deceived or naive or simply weak in some way. And you don’t have to be crazy to be bigoted.”
“I’ll give you that one.” She uncovered her pancakes with considerable pleasure and immediately drowned them in butter and syrup.
She dumped the mixed berries she’d ordered over that.
“Anyway, the numbers narrow some with the other filters, and narrow more with the ones I tried this morning. I’m looking at about six hundred names with multiple violent offenses in New York who are current members.”
“Still a considerable number.”
“I’m sending it all to Feeney. They can cross it with contacts on Gwen’s comp and address books and all that. If we get any matches, it won’t be hundreds.”
“You’ve considered this murder is a first offense—or the killer has never been caught before.”
“Yeah, but this is an angle with high probability, so we’ll test it out. Plus, I’m hoping I can make her piss herself today and give me a name.”
“If anyone can. And you’re going to talk to Merit.”
“First on the list.”
As she shoveled in a bite of syrup-soaked pancake, she saw Roarke’s gaze track over. She didn’t have to turn around to know that cool, steady stare stopped Galahad’s pancake advance.
“I’m having Peabody pick up the bank-box key from Evidence while I go by Caine’s. Then she’ll meet me at the bank. Once we see what Gwen’s tucked away in it, we’ll hit her.”
“Why don’t I go with you to Merit’s? I do know him, and he might be more forthcoming with a friend—even a casual one.”
“Don’t you have other people to intimidate?”
“Scores.” He topped off her coffee, then his own. “But I’ve