He'd kept his area clean, she decided.
She did a run through the labs, examined the droids in development. She nailed another piece into place when the lab foreman, in the spirit of cooperation, told her they had produced replica droids of both Branson brothers. As a surprise, he explained, ordered by Clarissa Branson. A personal request, kept off the books and logs.
They'd been completed and delivered to the Branson townhouse only three weeks before.
Very slick timing, Eve thought as she wandered through production with its orderly shelves loaded with minidroids, tyke-bykes, and space toys.
She picked up an excellent reproduction of a police issue stunner, shook her head. "This sort of thing should be outlawed. You know how many 24/7s are knocked over with these every month?"
"I had one when I was a kid." Peabody grinned with nostalgia. "Bought it on the sly and hid it from my parents. No toys of violence allowed in our house."
"Free-Agers got that one right." Eve set it down, walked farther down the line and into the maze of souveniers. Her energy was flagging. It felt as though she were walking through a wall of water. "Shit, who buys this stuff?"
"Tourists love them. Zeke's already loaded with key chains and globes and friggie magnets."
The New York section was filled with replicas—the key chains, the pens, the dash figures, the magnets and trinket boxes that crowded the stores and stands for eager tourists.
The Empire State Building, the Pleasure Dome, the UN building, the Statue of Liberty. Madison Square, the Plaza Hotel, she noted, frowning at the detailed reproduction of the hotel inside a water globe. Lift it, shake it, and glitter rained like confetti on New Year's Eve.
Good business, she wondered, or irony?
"I bet that kind of thing is going to sell like crazy now." Peabody scowled at the globe when Eve replaced it. "Hot ticket item."
"People are sick," Eve decided. "Let's do the house." Her eyes were feeling gritty now from lack of sleep. "Got any Alert-All in your bag?"
"Yeah, I've got the official limit."
"Give me o
ne, will you? I hate that stuff, makes me edgy. But I'm losing focus."
She swallowed the pill Peabody handed her, knowing the false energy would annoy her.
"When's the last time you caught some shut-eye?"
"I forget. You drive," Eve ordered. God, she hated to give up the control, but it was Peabody or auto. "Until this crap kicks in."
She slid into the passenger seat, let her head fall back, her body relax. Within five minutes, her system was on the gallop. "Man." Her eyes popped open. "I'm awake now."
"It'll give you a good four hours—maybe six—then, if you don't get horizontal, you'll crash hard. Go down like a tree after 'timber.'"
"If we don't close up some of these holes in four to six, I might as well crash." Revved now, she contacted McNab at EDD. "Did you get the 'link from Maine?"
"Working on it now. She had a class-A jammer on it, but we're getting there."
"Bring everything you get to my home office. Bring the whole 'link if you don't have clear data by five. Save me a call and tell Feeney I've sent him Branson's personal. It's been wiped, but he might jiggle something."
"If there's anything, we'll jiggle it."
She put the next call through to Whitney. "Commander, I've finished at Branson T and T and am en route to his residence."
"Progress?"
"Nothing solid at this point. However, I suggest steps be taken to scan and secure the UN building." She thought of the pretty, pricey souveniers. "Apollo's next hit was the Pentagon. If Cassandra continues to follow the theme, that location is the logical choice. Time-wise there would be a lag of several weeks, but we can't risk them sticking to the schedule set by Apollo."
"Agreed. We'll take all necessary steps."
"Do you think they'll make contact again?" Peabody asked when Eve broke transmission.