“Not that bad? Really, Eve, damn it! Did the MTs say ribs are broken?”
“Bruised. Just bruised.” She clamped her teeth down as the healing wand could sting on deeper injuries. “Maybe a hairline fracture. Maybe.”
“Internal injuries?”
“No. I swear. Roarke wouldn’t have let me skate out of there and straight here. I’ve got strains and sprains in places I didn’t know could get strains and sprains. The son of a bitch can fight.”
“Obviously so can you.”
She closed her eyes, ordered her body to relax, to accept the treatment. “Roarke’s Christmas present—dojo, training—holo and in the flesh with the master. I let it come. I was a goddamn crane, and a snake, a freaking dragon. Had the tiger coming, but he tried to take a header off the wall.”
“I have to admit, I’d like to have seen that. You’re going to need another treatment in three hours.”
“Okay.”
Mira kissed Eve cheek. “I mean it.”
“I know it. Or you’ll rat me out to Whitney.”
“And Roarke.”
“Figured.”
She had to admit she felt better after Mira got done with her. With Baxter she walked back into Interview A with Iler. Singa remained counsel of record.
“Record on, resuming interview. So here we are again. I have to tell you—full disclosure, because why the hell not—Silverman rolled on you like a pig rolls in shit.”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“You think he gave a rat’s ass about you?” Baxter demanded with a laugh. “You were a vehicle, a piece
on the board.”
“I think he liked Lucius here okay,” Eve added. “And he admired certain skills. Like building jammers, figuring out how to get through security systems. While he built the bombs. He knows he’s done.”
She looked at Singa. “Just like your lawyer knows I’m not bullshitting. He gave us everything, like how this all started after Banks fed you some inside scoop on the merger. You and Silverman sitting around, drinking and shooting the shit, and you.” She pointed at Iler. “You come up with the idea.”
“No, I—”
“Lie, it’s done. Maybe you were just bullshitting, playing what if, but it started rolling from there. I don’t need anything from you.”
“We have a deal on the table,” Singa said.
“Yeah, I talked to APA Reo, and we agreed to go ahead with the deal. Save time and grief, just like I said before. One lie, deal’s void. Was that also made clear?”
“It was,” Singa agreed. “Lucius, you need to cooperate.”
“I said I would.”
But he sat, silently.
“Did you know he dragged the Chenowitz kid—August, six years old—up to the roof of the house, held a knife to his throat? Drew blood? He’d planned on killing the kid anyway, so no harm using him as a shield.”
“He wouldn’t do that. Ollie wouldn’t do that.”
Eve slapped both hands on the table. “You know he would. You know it. You could pretend otherwise as long as it all worked for you and you banked that profit. But you fucking knew what he was inside.”
“I would never harm a child.”