He smiled. “Good night, Peabody,” he said, and discharged the holo.
“Okay, and peace reigns across the land. For a minute. I need the recording so I can—”
“Disc copy.” He offered it. “And another is already transmitting to your unit. Now, come with me.”
“I have to—”
“Yes, I know you do.” He took her hand, drew her to the elevator. “If there was enough time—or I thought I could browbeat you into it—I’d see you took a hot bath and a relaxation session, but rather than argue for the next many minutes . . .”
He drew her into the bedroom.
“I don’t have time for that either.”
“Dear God, sex, sex, sex. It’s all you think about.” He turned her toward the sitting area.
There was candlelight, two glasses of wine, and—
“Is that cake?”
“It is.”
“I get cake?”
He pulled her back before she could pounce. “It depends.” He pulled a small case out of his pocket, watched her happy surprise turn to annoyed scowl.
“I don’t need a blocker.”
“You do if you want cake. I know you have a headache—overwork, stress—overthinking—it shows. Take the blocker like a good girl, and you’ll have cake.”
“It better be really good cake.” She popped the blocker, then immediately grabbed the plate. One bite had her closing her eyes. “Okay, it is. Really good. Worth it. Ten minutes for cake.”
“Seems only fair.” He tugged her down to sit.
“We found them all.” She closed her eyes again, not in pleasure but relief. “All five.”
“Saved them all.”
“No, not all.”
“There are five women, and their families, who think differently.”
“If we can take him tomorrow.” She let it ride a moment, took another bite of cake. “The judge’s mother? Something.”
“Indeed she is.”
“Do the math. Seventy years into the marriage deal, and she’s ninety. Twenty when she stepped into the deal, started popping out kids. Seven decades later, and it’s still there. It’s what Pauley wants to destroy. Not just the person, but the connection. Strangle them with their own family ties.”
A slow sip of wine went down smoothly. “If we don’t take him tomorrow, she’ll hold up. She’ll stand to it.
“I don’t want to screw up the wedding,” she said suddenly. “I don’t want to mess this up, but if—”
“One step at a time.”
She let out a huff of breath. “Yeah. One step at a time.”
In the morning, Eve stood in the conference room outlining positioning and strategy for her team. Using a remote, she highlighted specific areas of the blueprint on screen.
“The ten-story building holds bereavement facilities on floors one through three, offices and counseling centers for same, four and five, ah, showrooms and retail spaces on six and seven. Eight through ten are hotel facilities offered to families and other attendants of the memorials and funerals held on site.”