Origin in Death edahr-24
Page 19
He flipped open the next button, and her pants slid down her hips. «Step out,» he murmured.
«You're still dressed.» And her head was spinning.
«Step out,» he repeated, sliding those hands over her as she did.
«You're all naked and soft, and I like the idea of riding my tongue over you, top to bottom, bottom to top until you… Well, well. What have we?»
Her brain had gone dull on her, so she only blinked at first when she followed Roarke's gaze down her own body.
There, low on either side of her belly, were three small, sparkling red hearts, with a long silver arrow piercing through each trio. Pointing, she realized, at the goal.
«For crap's sake. What if somebody sees them?»
«If someone other than me sees them, you're in serious trouble. He traced a finger down one trio, made her shudder. «And they're very pretty.»
«They're sparkly hearts pointing at my crotch.»
«They are, yes. And while I appreciate the directional assistance believe I could find my way all on my own.» To prove it, he slid his fingers down her. Into her.
Her breath gasped out as she gripped his shoulders for balance.
God, the heat of her. The quick, wet heat. That alone seduced him. «I love to watch your face when it goes through you. When I go through you. Love to watch when it takes you over, Eve.»
Her knees had dissolved, and everything above them throbbed with sensation. Liquid excitement, pouring through her as his hands, his lips, tongue, teeth explored. To hear him say her name as he took her over, the music of his voice enticed her even as his hands teased, tormented.
She let herself ride the wave, then let herself melt into it.
Her pliancy, such a contrast to her strength and will, was arousing. Outrageously. Her absolute involvement in him, in them, while everything else around them washed away in pleasure and passion, in love and lust. When he pulled her with him to the floor, she slid down, slid under him like silk. There he had her mouth, warm and generous. Her skin, smooth and fragrant.
Then he was inside her, where there was nothing else. And he let her yielding take him with her.
She could have curled up to sleep on the floor without a word of complaint. Every cell in her body was relaxed and satisfied. But when she felt herself starting to drift off, she shook it off, sat up. And let out a startled yelp when she saw the cat perched on her desk, staring un-blinkingly with different-colored eyes.
Roarke studied the cat while he ran a hand lightly down Eve's back. «Does he approve or disapprove, do you think? He never lets on.»
«I don't give a rat's ass, but I don't think he should be watching us while we're having sex. It can't be right.»
«Maybe we should get him a girlfriend.»
«He's been fixed.»
«He still might enjoy the companionship.»
«Not enough to share his salmon fixes.» Because it was just weird to have the cat staring, especially when she was wearing little sparkly red hearts, she grabbed her pants, pulled them on.
As she raked her fingers through her hair, her computer beeped. Galahad jumped a little, then immediately shot up a leg and began to lick his backside.
Tasks complete…
«Hey, there's timing.» She leaped up now, grabbing her sweats. «Plus I think the sex burned the alcohol out of my system.»
«You're welcome.»
He said it with a laugh, but she'd learned a few things in over a year of marriage. «The way you touched me? It counteracted the trauma that is Trina. This is great power.»
His eyes warmed for her as he got to his feet.
«But the hearts have got to go. Computer, display matches, on wall screen.»
Singular match displayed…
«Score,» Eve bellowed when the images flashed on, side by side. «Hello, Deena.»
Flavia, Deena, DOB June 8, 2027, Rome, Italy. Father, Dimitri, doctor, specializing in pediatrics. Mother, Anna Trevani, doctor, psychiatry. No siblings No marriage, cohabitation on record. No offspring on record. No criminal on record. Last known address, Brookhollow College. No data on record: after May 19-20, 2047. Image displayed is of official ID taken June 2045
«Lovely young woman,» Roarke stated. «Extremely lovely.»
«And she poofs. Early graduation. Computer, search for any missing persons report on Flavia, Deena. International search.»
Working…
«Side task. Are her parents still living? If so, where, and under what employment?»
Acknowledged. Working…
«Her address was listed at the college, not a residence. No criminal, no marriage, no cohab, and she goes into the wind before her twentieth birthday.»
«And surfaces,» Roarke put in, «a dozen years later to kill the Icoves.»
«Couple years younger than Avril, but they'd have been at school at the same time. Exclusive boarding school, they'd have brushed up against each other.»
«A long way from school chums to partners in crime.»
«Yeah, but it connects them. She saw the image from the center, and didn't say, 'Hey, that's Deena from Brookhollow. Haven't seen her in years.' And yeah,» she said, holding up a hand, «a defense attorney's going to say Avril's not required to remember everyone she went to school with. That it's been a dozen years since she got out of college, which coincidentally coincides with Deena's vanishing act. But it puts her in the same place, at the same time, with the suspect.»
Secondary task complete. Flavia, Dimitri, and Trevani, Anna, reside in Rome, Italy. Both are employed on staff at The Children's Institute in that city…
«Cross-check the Children's Institute for association with Icove, Wilfred B., Sr. and/or Wilfred B., Jr., also association with Wilson, Jonah Delecourt.»
Added task. Working…
«I can save you the time,» Roarke told her. «I've contributed to that institution through my Italian companies. I know that, at least at one time, Icove Sr. served on the advisory board.»
«Better and better. So he connects with the Flavias, who connect with Deena, AKA Dolores, who connects with Avril, who connects with Brookhollow. I've got me a fucking diagram.»
Primary task complete. No missing person's report was filed to a known authority on Flavia, Deena…
«They don't file because either they know where she is or because they don't want the cops nosing around. If it's the second, they hired private. Either way she's under data radar for a decade. And—«
Additional task complete. Icove, Wilfred B., Sr., served on advisory board and as guest surgeon, guest lecturer, for the Children's Institute from its creation in 2025 to his death. Wilson, Jonah Delecourt, served on advisory board from 2025 to 2048.
«Okay, now we've got—«
Question…
«What,» Eve snapped.
Do you wish to end task involving images from Brookhollow at this time?
«What other images are there?»
Secondary match, current enrollment Brookhollow Academy correlating to Flavia, Deena.
«You said singular match. Display, damn it.»
Affirmative…
The image that came on was rounder, softer than Deena Fla. And it was a child.
Eve's heart fluttered into her throat. «Identify current image.»
Rodriguez, Diana, DOB March 17, 2047, Argentina. Parents, Hector, laboratory technician, and Cruz, Magdalene, physical therapist.
«Places of employment.»
Working… Rodriguez, Hector, employed Genedyne Research. Cruz, Magdalene, employed St. Catherine's Reconstructive and Rehabilitation Center.
«Association of both places of employment to Icove, Wilfred B., Sr.; Icove, Wilfred B., Jr.; Wilson, Jonah; and Samuels, Eva or Evelyn.»
«She's not their child,» Roarke put in. «Not biologically. She's the image of Deena Flavia.»
«Breed them and sell them. Breed and sell. Sons of bitches. Manipulate the genes—make them perfect, made to order. Train, educate, pro�
�gram them. Then sell them.»
He reached out, instinctively rubbing her shoulders. «Would she have wanted the child, do you think? Or just revenge.»
«I don't know. Depends on what drives her harder. Maybe she figures on getting both.»
The computer came back, listing all four names with connections to the locations in Argentina.
«Computer, start search and match images. Any graduate of Brookhollow Academy or College with current students. List all data on all results.»
Working…
«Let it task,» Roarke said softly. «Let's get some sleep. You'll need a clear head tomorrow. I assume you're going to New Hampshire.»
«Damn right I am.»
She was up at dawn, and still Roarke was up and dressed ahead of her. With a grunted greeting she trudged into the shower, ordered jets on full at one-oh-one degrees, and boiled herself awake. She hit the drying tube, gulped down the first cup of coffee, and felt nearly human.
«Eat something,» Roarke ordered, and switched from the finance reports on-screen to the morning media cast.
«Something,» she repeated from inside her closet.
When she stepped out, he glanced at the clothes she'd grabbed and said, «No.»
«No, what?»
«Not that outfit.»
If the term aggrieved had an image beside its definition, it would have been her face. «Oh, come on.»
«You plan to pay an official visit to an exclusive boarding school. You want to look authoritative.»
She tapped the weapon holster she'd hung over the back of the chair «Here's my authority, Ace.»
«A suit.»
«A what?»
He sighed, rose. «You do know the concept, and you happen to own several. You want power, prestige, simplicity. You want to look important.»
«I want to cover my naked ass.»
«Which is a shame, I grant you, but you may as well cover it well. This. Clean lines, and the dull copper color adds punch. Wear it with this.» He added a scooped-neck top in a kind of muddy blue. «And go crazy, Eve. Wear a bit of jewelry.»
«It's not a fricking party.» But she pulled on the pants.
«You know what you need? You need a droid, a dress-up droid. Maybe I'll buy you one for Christmas.»
«Why settle when I already have the real thing?» He opened the jewelry vault in her closet and selected etched gold hoops for her and a sapphire cabochon pendant.
To save time and aggravation, she dressed as ordered. But she balked when Roarke made a little circle in the air with his finger.
«Pushing your luck, pal.»
«It was worth a try. You still look like a cop, Lieutenant. Just a very well tailored one.»
«Yeah, the bad guys will be awed by my fashion sense.»
«You'd be surprised,» he replied.
«I've got work.»
«You can call up the search results right here and eat some breakfast. If a machine can multitask, so can you.»
It didn't feel quite right, but then neither did the suit. But since he was already giving the order, she programmed a bagel from the AutoChef.
«You can do better than that.»
«I'm stoked.» Her office wasn't the only place she could pace, she reminded herself, and began to do so while biting into the bagel. «Something's going to come.»
«Data on-screen then.»
Acknowledged. Match one of fifty-six…
«Fifty-six?» Eve stopped pacing. «That can't be right. Even figuring the amount of time, number of students, you wouldn't have so many visual matches. You can't… wait.»
She stared at match one.
DeIaney, Brianne, DOB February 16, 2024, Boston, Massachusetts. Parents Brian and Myra DeIaney nee Copley. No siblings. Married Alistar, George, June 18, 2046. Offspring: Peter, September 12, 2048; Laura, March 14, 2050. Resides Athens, Greece.
Matched with O'Brian, Bridget, DOB August 9, 2039, Ennis, IreIand. Parents Seamus and Margaret O'Brian nee Ryan. Both deceased. No siblings. Legal guardianship to Samuels, Eva, and upon her death Samuels, Evelyn. Currently enrolled and residing Brookhollow College, New Hampshire.
«Computer, pause. She had a kid at twelve?» Eve asked.
«It happens,» Roarke said, «but—«
«Yeah, but. Computer images only, split screen, magnify fifty percent.'
Working…
As they came on, Eve stepped closer. «Same coloring, that's fine. The red hair, the white skin, freckles, green eyes. I'd say the odds are reasonable for those inherited traits. Same nose, same mouth, same shape of the eyes, the face. I bet you could count the fricking freckles and get the same number for each. Kid's like a miniature of the woman. Like a…«
«Clone,» Roarke finished quietly. «Christ Jesus.»
Eve took a breath, then another. «Computer, run the next match.
It took an hour, and the sickness came into the center of her being and lay there like a tumor.
«They've been cloning girls. Not just messing with DNA to boost intellect or appearance. Not just designing babies or tuning them up physically, intellectually, to enhance. But creating them. Flipping off international law and creating them. Selling them. Some into marriage,» Eve continued, staring at the screen. «Some into the market place. Some created to continue to work. Doctors, teachers, lab techs thought they were designing babies, training LCs. But it's worse, worse than both.»
«There are rumbles now and then about underground reproduce cloning research, even the occasional claim of success. But the laws are so strict, so onerous and universal, no one's come out and proved it.
«How does it work? Do you know?»
«Not precisely. Not remotely, actually. We do some research cloning—well within the parameters of the law. For tissue, organs. A cell implanted in a simulated female egg, triggered electrically. If it's privatized, as ours would be, the cells are donated by the clients, who would pay handsomely for the generated replacement tissues, which would have no risk of being rejected after transplant. I'd have to gather that in reproductive cloning, you'd have cells, and actual eggs—once merged— would be implanted in a womb.»
«Whose?»
«Well, that's a question.»
«I've got to get this to the commander, get the go-ahead and get to the school. You can fill Louise in on this.»
«I can.»
«He'd have made billions on this,» Eve added.
«Grossed.»
«I'll say it's gross.»
«No, no.» It was a relief to laugh. «Gross income. It would cost—has to cost enormously to run the labs, develop the technology, the school, the network. The net income would be substantial, I'd think, but Eve, the cost, the risk? I think you're looking at a labor of love.»
«You think?» She shook her head. «We've got nearly sixty on record now attending the Academy. There must be hundreds more, already graduated. What happened to the ones that didn't come out exactly right? How much do you think he loved the ones that weren't perfect?»
«That's a hideous thought.»
«Yeah. I've got a million of them.»
She took time to put it together into a report, to contact Whitney and request an early briefing. She tagged Peabody on the way to Central and arranged to pick up her partner.
Peabody hopped into the car, tossed her hair. It was longer by a good four inches and did a kind of flip at the tips.
«McNab truly spiked on my hair. I've got to remember to shake things up more often.»
Eve gave her a cautious sidelong glance. «It makes you look girly.»
«I know!» Obviously pleased with the comment, Peabody snuggled back in her seat. «And it was great being a girl after I got home last night. He went ape shit over the papaya boob cream.»
«Stop now, save us both. We've got a situation.»
«Figured you didn't offer to pick me up to save me a fight with the subway.»
«I'm going to brief you on the way, then the commander. We'll have a full
briefing—EDD included—at ten hundred.»
Peabody said nothing as Eve ran through the data she'd gathered overnight. Her silence carried through into the garage at Central.
«No questions, no observations?»
«I'm just… absorbing, I guess. It's so contrary to my makeup. My DNA, I guess you could say. The way I was raised, taught. Creating life is the job of a higher power. It's our job, our duty and our joy, to nurture life, protect and respect it. I know that sounds Free-Agey but—«
«It's not so far off from what I think. But personal sensibilities aside, human reproductive cloning is illegal under the laws of New York, the laws of the country, and the laws governing science and commerce on and off planet. Evidence indicates the Icoves broke those laws. And their murders, which is our domain, were a direct result of that.»
«Are we going to have to turn this over to the— Who handles this kind of thing? The FBI? Global? Interplanetary?»
Eve's face was set as she slammed out of the vehicle. «Not if I can help it. I want you to hit research mode. Get everything you can on human cloning. Technical areas, legal areas, equipment, techniques, ct bates, claims, histories, myths. We want to know what we're talking about when we get to Brookhollow.»
«Dallas, with what you found out, we're going to find them up there. Some of them are just kids. They're just kids.»
«We'll deal with it when we come to it.»
Whitney wasn't as reticent as Peabody, and peppered Eve with questions throughout her report.
«This is a Nobel Prize winner, Lieutenant, whose memorial service, scheduled for fourteen hundred this afternoon, will be attended by heads of state, worldwide. His son, whose reputation and acclaim were rising to match his father's, will be similarly honored next week. New York will hold both these events, and the security, the media— the fucking traffic details are already a nightmare. If a whiff of this leaks, it could go beyond nightmare into the realm of international clusterfuck.»
«It won't leak.»
«You better be damn sure of that, and damn sure of your facts.»
«Fifty-six matches, sir, through Brookhollow Academy alone. I believe many if not all of these correspond to the coded files Icove Sr. kept in his apartment—his currents, so to speak. He worked closely with a geneticist, and was, at one time, a vocal proponent of genetic manipulation.»