this place. He has money, or he wants it. The kind that buys gold limos and expensive LCs.”
She went out the exit, circled around to the front. This time she wanted to retrace the killer’s route. She tagged McNab. “Guide me through this place, by the blips on the security.”
“Can do. Let me get a fix on your ’link.”
She followed his directions, winding through a vampire’s lair, a graveyard with zombies dragging themselves out of the ground. She could imagine the lighting, the sounds, the movements well enough.
What if the program had taken them another way? she wondered. He’d had alternatives set up. Other kill zones with easily accessed exits. And the vic had played along, doing what she’d been paid to do.
She stopped, narrowed her eyes. Paid. An LC in her league would get a hefty deposit. She needed to consult with Charles, get a solid opinion on the practice and procedure.
By the time she reached Peabody she had the route mapped in her head. “He probably made it here with her in under twenty. Probability’s high this was his first stop, and her last.”
“I did a run on her. She had over a dozen years in, not a single citation. Clean and regular health checks, paid her fees on time, worked her way up the chain. She’s diamond level, and if I remember what Charles said that means she earns about ten thousand for a four-hour date. She’s certified for male and female, groups, bondage, submissive or dominant. Name it, she’s licensed. There are only half a dozen LCs in the city at her level. Only one other female.”
“He wants or needs exclusive.” She turned as Officer Milway came back in.
“Lieutenant. She didn’t book transpo, but I checked for private going to her address tonight. There was a pickup for that address, her name, booked at twenty-two-thirty. Elegant Transportation. The driver, Wanda Fickle, dropped her off at the main entrance at twenty-three-ten. The car was ordered by and paid for by a Foster M. Urich. He’s got an address in the Village.”
“Good work.”
“Yes, sir. We’re asking around. We found a couple of people who think they saw her. With a male, but they’re vague and contradictory on the male. We’ll keep on it.”
“If you get anything solid there, I want to know ASAP.”
“Yes, sir.”
She pulled out her ’link. “I’ve got to go to the Village.”
“Take the car,” Roarke told her. “McNab and I will get ourselves and the discs into Central.”
Since suggesting he go home and get some sleep first would be a waste of time, she didn’t bother. “I’ll see you there.”
“Morgue’s in the house.” Peabody tucked away her communicator. “Sweepers right behind them.”
“Good, let’s get things wrapped here, and go see Foster M. Urich. Do a run.”
“Already on it. Forty-three, Caucasian male, recently divorced, one child—daughter, age eight. CEO of Intelicore. Minor bust for zoner at age twenty. Nothing else on his record.”
“What’s Intelicore?”
“Data gathering and storing services. Major player globally and off planet. Three generations in.”
“Interesting,” Eve murmured. “That’s another two for two.”
8
THE MINUTE SHE SPOTTED THE CAR PEABODY wiggled her hips and swung her arms in the air. “Hotdiggity damn!”
“Stop that.”
“It’s so pretty.” She settled for wiggling her shoulders. “It’s so sexy. It’s so frosty. It’s so Roarke.”
“Keep it up and you’ll be taking public transportation to the Village.”
“I’ll be good, I’ll be good. I’ll be especially good if we can have the top down. Can we? Please, please?”
“You’re embarrassing yourself.” Eve uncoded the locks.
“Not even close. It’s all smooth and shiny.” She purred as she stroked fingertips along the hood.
“Your ass’ll be all smooth and shiny when I’m finished kicking it. I’m putting the top down.” Eve’s snarl and pointed finger cut off Peabody’s squeal. It came out as more of a peep.
“Because it’s hot, and because the wind will blow away some of your idiocy.”
Eve turned the car on.
“Ooh, it sounds like a lion that’s just fed.”
“How do you know what a lion that’s just fed sounds like?”
“I watch nature shows on-screen sometimes to further my education.”
“Because you never know when we’re going to have to track a lion through Midtown.” She ordered the top down, and Peabody executed a quick seat wiggle.
“If you’re finished with your vehicular orgasms see if you can make any connections between Dudley and Intelicore.” Eve activated the GPS on her wrist unit, read in Urich’s address.
“We are so freaking high-tech!”
“I’m just seeing if it works.” She shot out of the lot. Peabody let out a joyous,