Connections in Death (In Death 48)

“They are tools, and the enemy.”

“Well then, I’m in my office if you need help in the battle. When you’re done, just tell it to disengage holo option.”

“Good. Thanks.”

Alone, she walked to her board, gave it a long study, then moved back into place when the comp announced:

Uplink from Whitney, Commander Jack, in progress.

His image formed, real as life. His suit, slate gray, fit well over strong, wide shoulders. The gray threaded through his dark, close-cropped hair read steely.

“Commander, I appreciate you meeting with me so quickly.”

“I’m interested, Lieutenant, to learn how a disgraced lawyer facing charges of tax evasion and fraud connects to two gang murders.”

“That’s what I intend to find out, and why I need to interview Cohen before the feds take over. I believe Cohen and Jones have more than a business relationship, as outlined in my report. And, in fact, suspect Cohen may be acting as Jones’s de facto legal counsel. As such, he may have information on the murders.”

Though she’d sent him a written copy of her report, she laid out her theory.

“There’s no question the murders connect, sir. If Cohen has any knowledge, using the current charges as weight will help break him. In addition, what he knows about the Banger organization will aid concurrent investigations into their illegals trade, suspected identity theft, their protection racket, and other criminal activities.”

“They’re a blight,” Whitney said. “A relatively small one compared to what they were even a decade ago, but a blight. I’ll contact the FBI, relay this information when I arrive at Central.” He glanced deliberately at his wrist unit. “You’ve got a ninety-minute head start before that time, and likely an hour more before they move on Cohen. Make the most of it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Any and all data relating to the tax evasion will be relayed to the federal authorities, Lieutenant.”

“Absolutely, sir. If possible, Commander, Special Agent Teasdale might be a good FBI contact.”

“She would.” Whitney gave Eve the slightest of nods. “Get moving,” he said, and faded away.

“Okay then.” She started to turn away, remembered. “What was it again? Fuck. Wait. Ah, disengage holo option. And close operations.”

Holo option disengaging.

The center shut down. “Not so hard,” she mumbled, and swung into Roarke’s office.

“Hold a moment, Peterby.” His screen went to quiet blue when he swiveled to her. “Done?”

“Yeah, gotta move. Thanks for the assist.”

“Not a problem.” But he crooked a finger so she rolled her eyes, then leaned over his command center to meet his lips with hers.

“I’ll tag you when I’m ready to sweat him.”

“And I’ll try to juggle things so I can watch and be entertained. If I can’t, take care of my cop, and kick his sorry, cool hoor ass.”

“Affirmative on both.”

Leaving early gave her a head start on morning traffic, and whatever gods decided the vehicular luck of the day smiled down so she hit nearly every green. As a result, she hit the Lower East Side well ahead of the time she’d texted to Peabody.

Since she saw no point in waiting, she edged into a slot and hiked a couple of blocks to the four-stack in the cool March breeze.

Privacy screens engaged, she noted. Most likely Vinn was still sleeping. It never hurt, to Eve’s mind, to catch somebody before they’d had their morning caffeine and started thinking clearly.

She buzzed, waited, watched a teenage type walk a trio of yap dogs who trotted along on stubby legs with ears flapping. Buzzed again, longer.

The door opened a crack, and an eye peered out. Not Vinn’s brown one, but green and bloodshot.