9 EVE DIDN’T SEE how she could be concerned about total security at this point, but she took the cryptic transmission from Roarke on the odd little ’link he’d presented to her that morning.
It strapped on the wrist, but she didn’t care for the weight of it, or the absurdity of talking to her sleeve. So she’d stuck it in her jacket pocket, and when it vibrated against her hip, she jolted as if she’d been struck with a laser blast.
“Jesus. Technology is a pain in the—haha—ass.” She yanked it out. “What?”
“That’s hardly a professional greeting, Lieutenant.”
“I’m stalled in traffic. Why don’t these people have jobs? Why don’t they have homes?”
“And some nerve they have being out and about on your streets. I’m on them myself, and about to pick up a package. I need to take it home. I very much want you to see it, so you’ll want to meet me there.”
“What? Why? Goddamn asshole maxibus! I’m driving here. I’m heading to the East Side, if I don’t indulge in a major vehicular accident just to clear the goddamn roads!”
“I’m running that errand for you myself. Come home, Eve.”
“But I—” She snarled at the ’link when the transmission ended, then in disgust tossed it at Peabody. “It’s gone wonky.”
“No, sir. He cut you off. He wants you to go back to the residence, where he’s bringing Reva Ewing.”
“How do you get that?”
“I watch a lot of spy vids. He must have found something, and he wants to discuss it with you in the most secure location. This is really chilled, you’ve got to admit.”
“Yeah, so chilled, I’ve yet to talk to Morris, or have another look at the bodies. I haven’t booted Dickhead around the lab to see if there’s any forensics that might be useful. And, much as I hate it, I
haven’t talked to the media liaison about a spin when we drop charges on Ewing.”
“Those usual routines don’t apply as much when you’re Bonding.”
“Bonding? How am I bonding? I’m not interested in bonding, in fact I dislike bonding intensely.”
“No, no, Bonding. Like Bond, James Bond. You know, ult spy guy.”
“God.” Eve shot down a cross-street, and made it a block before she stalled again. “Why me?”
“I really dig the spy vids, even the old ones. Gadgets and sex and sophisticated quips. You know, Dallas, if Roarke was an actor he could completely play Bond on vid. He’s a total Bond.”
Eve plowed through the light, cast her eyes to heaven. “God, I repeat. Why me?”
She slammed into the house, bared her teeth at Summerset.
“Your associates have arrived. Suitable quarters have been prepared for them. Going by previous experience, I am about to have food supplies completely restocked, with an emphasis on items without any nutritional value whatsoever.”
“And you’re telling me this because, somehow, I look like I give a shit?”
“You are mistress of this house, and responsible for the comfort of your guests.”
“They’re not guests. They’re cops.”
Peabody loitered as Eve charged upstairs. “Is it okay if McNab and I have the room we took last time?”
Summerset’s stony countenance softened with a smile. “Of course, Detective. I’ve arranged it.”
“Mag. Thanks.”
“Peabody!” Eve’s aggrieved voice shot down the stairs. “With me, goddamn it.”
“Bad traffic,” Peabody grumbled. “Terrible mood.”