Treachery in Death (In Death 32)

“Partners in crime.”

“Crap.” She pushed ENTER and distinctly heard several sharp electrical snaps.

“Nicely done. You’re a natural.”

“Bite me.”

“One of my favorite activities.” He entered yet another series, another command, then detached the device. Secured the hood.

“That’s it?”

“It is. I put the extra time blocking the cams in case you want to search the vehicle. Would you like me to get you in?”

She would. Oh boy, would she. “I didn’t get clearance for that.”

“Stickler—which is much the same as tight-ass.” He waited, watching her fight her internal battle.

“No. If I need to toss her ride, I’ll do the new one. With a warrant or at command directive. Let’s go.”

“That was fun.” Roarke got back behind the wheel, made the turn to curve up to the exit. “But vaguely unsatisfying.”

“What did you do to it?”

“Identified, copied, then countermanded the mainframe system code with an incompatible command issued by a diagnostic clone issuing feed directly into ...” He trailed off, smiling at her. “I do love it when you get glassy-eyed over tech. It’s not altogether dissimilar from when you come.”

“Oh, please.” Deliberately she darkened the look with a scowl.

“I’m the one privileged to look in those eyes of yours at such moments. Basically, I fried a number of chips, which will disable the starter. I issued a second command so when she get in, tries to start it, the action will set off a further reaction, and essentially completely bollocks the engine.”

“Okay. That’s good. Will it pass diagnostics?”

He sighed, long, deep, exaggerated. “I wonder why I tolerate such abuse and cynicism? Ah yes, it’s those glassy eyes. It’ll read like a starter defect, which, in turn, compromised the engine.”

“That’s perfect. Thanks.”

“My pleasure. On to our favorite grifter?”

“Yeah. They’re expecting us.”

Lieutenant Renee Oberman clipped into the squad room in a very bad mood.

“LT,” Detective Strong began, and received a furious shut-the-fuckup glare.

“Officer Heizer, contact Requisitions and tell them I want the damn paperwork on my vehicle asap.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And I don’t want to see that piece of crap they hauled out of my garage this morning again. If they replace it with a similar piece of crap, I’ll make their lives a living hell.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he repeated even as she stormed into

her office. Renee pulled up short when she saw Eve in one of her visitor’s chairs.

“Lieutenant. Nice hours you have here in Illegals.”

“Don’t start on me.” Renee strode around to her desk, opened a bottom drawer, tossed her purse inside. “My vehicle rolled over and died this morning.”

“Sympathies,” Eve said with no sincerity whatsoever. “They are crap.”