Divided in Death

by J. D. Robb

  “Lieutenant.” Peabody waited until Eve’s gaze shifted to her. “If you don’t know we’re in, you should.”

  “This isn’t business as usual.”

  “No, because it’s ultimately iced.” Peabody grinned when she said it and earned a snicker from McNab.

  Shaking her head, Eve sat on the corner of her desk. She’d known they were in, but she had to give them the out. “Blair Bissel was a level-two operative for the HSO, recruited and trained by Felicity Kade.”

  “It was an HSO hit?”

  She glanced at McNab. “I haven’t quite tied it all up in a bow for you, Detective. No notes,” she said when he got out his book. “Nothing logged or recorded except on cleared units. Here’s what I know. Bissel was in Homeland for nine years. At level two he functioned primarily as a liaison. Passing data from point to point, accessing data or accumulating intel, which he passed along to a contact. Kade generally, but not exclusively. Three years ago, Kade was assigned to Reva Ewing for the purposes of developing a relationship, a friendship.”

  “Why Ewing?” Peabody asked. “Particularly.”

  “They’ve had her under observation for a number of years, including her time with the Secret Service. This observation was beefed up after her injury, line of duty, and subsequent retirement. She was approached by a recruiter for the HSO during her recuperation, and—according to the file—was less than gracious in her refusal. As she was offered a substantial incentive package, her refusal and her subsequent employment were suspect.

  “Roarke . . . Industries,” Eve continued, “is a hot button for the HSO. They’ve spent considerable time and manpower trying to tie it to espionage, without success. Reva Ewing was considered a strong candidate for information due to her personal and professional relationship with the industry’s head, and her mother’s position as Roarke’s admin. The hope was Reva would chat about her work, her boss, her projects, and so on, and the HSO would be one up.”

  “But she didn’t,” Feeney prompted.

  “She didn’t give them what they were after, but they had a lot invested. And Felicity was committed. She brought in Bissel and set up for the long haul.”

  “He married her for intel?” Peabody queried. “Sucks wide.”

  “For intel,” Eve agreed. “And for a stronger cover, for the additional contacts that came from her. She’s still friendly with some of her associates from the Secret Service, and she has former President Foster’s ear, among others. Neither Foster nor the current administration has maintained very friendly relations with the HSO, or vice versa. There’s a lot of resentment, one-upmanship, a lot of secrets and backbiting.”

  “I’m following all this well enough, kid,” Feeney put in. “But it doesn’t explain why Bissel and Kade were hit, and Ewing set up.”

  “It sure as hell doesn’t. So let’s find out.”

  She glanced at Roarke, silently passing him the ball. “The Code Red must factor into it,” he began. “The units were taken out with the Doomsday worm, or a close clone of it. It’s possible, though it pains me, that they’ve infiltrated my security at Securecomp, using Reva as their conduit. The contract came through the Global Intelligence Council, and was heatedly protested by the HSO, and a few other acronyms.”

  “HSO would’ve wanted the contract themselves,” McNab speculated. “Privatization of this kind of work put the squeeze on the budget of some of these agencies.”

  “There’s that,” Roarke agreed.

  “Add that if they had the contract and the fee,” Peabody continued, “they’d also have all pertinent intel on the Code Red in-house. They don’t have to wait to be fed through channels.”

  Eve nodded. “Using Reva was a way to feed.”

  “Add that since Roarke Industries is considered suspect by some factions . . .” Roarke let that hang in the air a moment, almost as if amused. “The HSO found it expedient to focus on infiltrating and gathering data and intel—whatever came to hand—in order to attempt to build a case against the corporation. For espionage, double-dipping, tax evasion. Some such thing.”

  He shrugged it off. He was—since Eve, in any case—a completely legitimate businessman. And if he wasn’t, he had no doubt he’d have gotten around Homeland, just as he’d always done.

  “I’ll be looking into security and plugging any potential holes, but at this point it’s a bit like bricking up the hole after the rat’s slipped in to nibble the cheese.”

  “You can always lay out more cheese,” Feeney commented.

  Roarke smiled a little. “We’re of a mind there.”

  “What about the worm itself?” Peabody asked. “If this was an HSO hit, and the units were corrupted, that means the HSO has the worm, or a clone. Wouldn’t they be working on an extermination program and shield themselves instead of . . . Oh.”

  “Global espionage isn’t so very different from the corporate sort.” Roarke picked up the pot and topped off his coffee. “If they’re working on spec, or have another organization working on the protection programs, it would pay them to know what we’re up to.”

  “And to kill for it. Just another kind of organized crime.” Peabody flushed a little. “Sorry, Free-Ager roots showing. Realistically, I know governments need covert organization to gather intelligence, to help predict terrorist attacks, to help dismantle terrorists and politically fanatic groups. But it’s the fact that they don’t always have to play by the rules that can corrupt the individuals that make up the whole. And that sounded just like my father.”

  “It’s okay, She-Body.” McNab gave her knee a squeeze. “I think Free-Agers are hot.”

  “If the HSO ordered the hit on Kade and Bissel,” Eve continued, “they may not pay for it in the public courts. But, if they set up Reva Ewing and left her twisting in the wind, they’ll pay for that. She’s a citizen of New York, and that makes her ours. I’m going to speak with the commander, then I’m going to Reva Ewing and make full disclosure, unless ordered otherwise. I believe with her contacts I can work a meet with reps from the HSO. And we’ll play some ball.”

  When she’d completed the briefing, she started to walk out with Peabody, then stopped as if just remembering something. “Oh, Feeney, I need just another minute with you. Peabody, go on down. Put in a request with the commander’s office for some time, priority one.”

  “I don’t expect to be more than two or three hours at Securecomp,” Roarke told Feeney. “You know where everything is here. Set up however it suits you best. Summerset will be able to answer any questions you may have. I’ll be back to roll up my sleeves as soon as I can. Lieutenant.”

  He knew she would wince when he leaned down to kiss her. Which was only one of the reasons he couldn’t resist doing so. He let her close the door behind him, and after giving it one speculative look, walked away.

  Inside, Eve rubbed her hands over her face. “I’ve got to ask you for a personal.”

  “Okay.”

  “This is . . . a little tricky for me.”

  “I’m seeing that. We need a sit-down?”

  “No. I mean you can. I . . . can’t. Shit.” She paced away, stared hard out of the window. “I don’t know how much you know about when I was a kid, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

  He knew a great deal, enough that having her bring it up tightened his belly. But his voice stayed even. “All right.”

  “There was an HSO field operative in Dallas when . . . during a period when . . . Goddamn it.”

  “They had eyes on your father?”

  “Yes. Eyes and ears. They . . . it’s complicated, Feeney, and I don’t have it in me to go through it all. But the fact is there’s a file. Roarke’s read it and—”

  “Hold up. They had eyes and ears, they knew there was a kid, and they didn’t intervene?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Fuck the point.”

  “Feeney.” She turned back and was assaulted by the same rage shooting off him as it had with Roarke. “I shouldn
’t be telling you any of this. If anything . . . You could, depending on the outcome, be considered an accessory before the fact. But maybe, by telling you, we can change the outcome. He’ll look for payback, and he can’t. It could ruin him. You know that. I’m asking you to help me stop him.”

  “Stop him? What makes you think I won’t give him a hand with it?”

  “Because you’re a cop,” she snapped. “Because you know you can’t take it down to the personal that way. You know what can happen when you do. I need you to keep him busy, too busy for him to spend any time moving on this other thing. I need you to find a way to try to talk him down from this. I think he’d listen to you.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” She dragged her hands through her hair. “I just do. Please God, Feeney, don’t make me go to Summerset with this. It’s hard enough asking you. I just need to buy some time so I can think it clear.”

  “Keeping him busy’s not a problem seeing as there’s only three of us working on fourteen units. Talking to him . . .” Feeney’s hands retreated to his pockets as he shrugged. “I’ll see if I can find an opening for it. Can’t promise I will.”

  “I appreciate it. I appreciate it, Feeney. Thanks.”

  “Let me ask you something, Dallas. Just between you and me, here and now. We don’t have to bring it up again, but I want a straight answer from you. You don’t want payback?”

  She looked down at the floor, then made herself lift her gaze and meet his eyes. “I want it so bad I can taste it. I want it so bad, so fucking bad, it scares me. I want it, Feeney, so bad that I know I have to put it away. I have to, or I’ll do something I’m not sure I can live with.”

  He nodded, and that was enough for both of them. “Let’s go do the job, then.”

  Commander Whitney was a big man who sat behind a big desk. Eve knew his day was filled with paperwork and politics, with diplomacy and directives. But it didn’t make him less of a cop.

  He had skin the tone of glossy oak, and the eyes that beamed out of his wide face were dark and intelligent. There was more gray in his hair than there’d been the year before, and Eve imagined his wife nagged him to deal with it.

  Personally, Eve liked it. It added one more aspect of authority.

  He listened, and she found his silence during her report both heavy and comforting.

  She remained standing when she was finished, and though she didn’t glance over at Peabody, she knew her partner was holding her breath.

  “Your source on this information is reliable?”

  “Sir, as this information came to me through unknown sources, I am unable to vouch for the reliability of same, but I’m convinced the data itself is reliable.”

  He raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Carefully said. It may stand if and when you’re pushed on it. How do you intend to proceed?”

  “I intend to disclose this information to Reva Ewing.”

  “That should make her lawyers stand up and dance.”

  “Sir, she didn’t kill Bissel and Kade. I can’t in good conscience withhold this information from someone who is, essentially, another victim.”

  “No. I just hate seeing lawyers dance.”

  There was the faintest snort from Peabody, hastily transformed into a cough.

  “The PA’s not going to be happy,” Whitney added.

  “He may be happy enough to dance himself if we tie the HSO into a double murder, and the deliberate framing of a civilian. That eventuality would make this case very hot,” Eve added when she saw the speculative look in Whitney’s eyes. “Hot enough to generate considerable media. Global media, with the prosecuting attorney in the forefront.”

  “That’s interesting, and political thinking, Dallas. You surprise me.”

  “I can push my mind in a political direction when pressed, and assume you’d be able to expand on that area when briefing the PA.”

  “You can be sure of it.”

  “Ewing may also prove useful in providing contacts to assist me in pursing this HSO aspect of my investigation.”

  “The HSO, once made aware of this aspect of your investigation, will try, very hard, to end said investigation.”

  Nonaction, she thought. That would be the term, and what they’d want from her.

  She’d be damned if they’d get it.

  “They have no authority over the NYPSD on a homicide investigation. An innocent woman was implicated, deliberately, in a double homicide.”

  An innocent child, she thought, couldn’t stop the thought, was deliberately ignored and left to be beaten, to be raped. Left to kill to survive.

  “That isn’t national or global security, Commander, it’s just dirty.” Her throat was starting to burn, but she ignored it and ordered herself to stay with the facts. To stay with the now.

  “A legitimate corporation, for which Ewing works, has a viable government Code Red contract to develop an extermination program to block the alleged plans of a techno-terrorist organization. If the HSO has attempted to hamper the research and development currently underway at Securecomp, that isn’t a matter of national or global security either. It’s dangerous and self-aggrandizing corporate espionage.”

  “I can promise you, they’ll have a different spin.”

  “They can spin it until they create a new plane of gravity, it won’t alter the fact that two people were brutally murdered, and an innocent civilian deliberately framed for it. The media’s already smearing Reva Ewing’s name all over the screen. She doesn’t deserve it. She nearly died standing as shield for President Foster, because that was her job. No more, no less. She’s done her job, no more, no less, for Securecomp, and in doing so will be partly responsible for developing another shield against a threat that could, potentially, shut down the Pentagon, the NSC, the GSC, Parliament, and the damn HSO.”

  He held up a hand. “She’d do better with you than the lawyers. I’m not arguing with you,” he added as the insult flickered over Eve’s face. “I read her file. You understand you have the option of simply dropping the charges and allowing Ewing to do her own spin. The NYPSD, and you, might look overbearing or foolish initially, but that would wear off before long.”

  “Two people would still be dead.”

  “Two operatives, Dallas. By-product of the job.” He held up his hand again before Eve could speak. “Do you have an opinion on that, Detective Peabody?”

  “Yes, sir. If I went down, line of duty, that’d be a by-product of the job. But I’d expect Dallas and my fellow officers to do everything they could to get me justice. We don’t just let murder go because it’s a professional hazard.”

  “You stand up well for yourself, Detective. Now that I see we’re all on the same side of the line. Talk to Ewing. I’ll take this to Chief Tibble. Only Chief Tibble,” he added, “on a need-to-know.”

  “Thank you, sir. The EDD team will work primarily out of my residence. It has more levels of security than we have at Central.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. Document everything, Dallas, but for now your reports to me will remain verbal only. I want to be informed the minute you have any kind of contact with any agent or representative of the HSO. Keep your ass covered, because if it takes a hit, so does this department.”

  That went well,” Peabody commented as they headed down to the garage.

  “Well enough.”

  “When he asked me if I had an opinion, I almost clutched.”

  “He wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want to hear it.”

  “Maybe not, but brass usually wants to hear what they want to hear. There was this other thing I was thinking.” She ran a hand, very casually, down her jacket to smooth the line. “Due to the nature of this investigation and certain sensitivities, it might be more secure, all in all, if members of the team remained at your residence.”

  “Might it be?” Eve replied.

  “Well, yeah, seeing . . .” She trailed off, studied their pea-green city vehicle. “Unit swept and shielded?”<
br />
  “Maintenance said so, but they’re lying sacks of shit. It should be safe enough for you to make your pitch in general terms.”

  Peabody climbed in. “First, you have those extra layers of security in place, so we don’t have to watch what we say or do. Part of investigating is talking through data and information. Also EDD could take shifts, if necessary. And since McNab and I are getting ready to move to our new apartment, my place is a wreck.” She smiled prettily. “So how about it?”

  “It’s not a party.”

  “Absolutely not.” Peabody stifled the smile and looked stern. “I’m proposing this for the good of the team, and the investigation.”

  “And because there’s always ice cream stocked in the freezer.”

  “Well, yes. Do I look stupid?”

  It wasn’t unusual for Roarke to call for a spot-check on security in any department at any time. But it was less usual for him to run scanners personally—and to run tests on his own equipment.

  The level-ten lab at Securecomp could only be accessed by employees with the highest clearance. Still, none of them grumbled at the body scans, or the delay while the scanner was run through a series of checks, then the scans rerun.

  No one mumbled when a team of exterminators in their white skin-suits and black helmets were called in to sweep for bugs. Glances were exchanged, and a few shrugs, but no one questioned the man.

  The lab itself was pristine. Filters and purifiers kept the air absolutely clean. Floors, walls, ceilings were all unrelieved white. There were no windows, and the walls were a full six inches thick. Minicams were positioned to record every area, all personnel, every movement, every sound.

  Each workstation was a clear-sided cube or series of clear counters, and each held compact and powerful equipment. There were no ’links other than interoffice ones.