Leverage in Death (In Death 47)

“What was taken?”

“My comp, spare ’link, my tablet, my wall screen, the wrist unit my parents got me when I got my MBA, my emergency cash. The police said it was probably somebody looking for a quick score, but they messed up my place, and scared me. It doesn’t matter now.”

“Did you have work on the comp?”

“Sure, but it was passcoded and fail-safed. And I always backed up on disc, and I take the disc with me if I go out. Just habit. So I had everything backed up.”

“You had data on the Econo deal on the comp? Office e-mails regarding it, that sort of thing?”

“Yes. It’s why I had the fail-safe.”

Nothing, Eve thought, was fail-safe.

She filled Peabody in as they went up to ICU to try another check on Karson.

“December again.”

“December eighteen—just after Kelly had her wallet and ’link lifted. We’ll want that incident report.”

“I’ll get both. The best I can get—until I get more—is negotiations between Quantum and Econo started wrapping up the end of November, or close enough they had the deal pretty much nailed down. Rogan’s domestic has her wallet and ’link lifted in

December, and now one of Rogan’s team gets her comp and e’s taken in December. Coincidences are bollocks, right?”

“As rain,” Eve agreed. “Though I don’t know what the hell makes rain so right. It’s going to be about the deal, not the people. Blow up the deal—and follow the money. Who benefits, who loses, that’s the first line.”

They stepped into the ICU lobby. The guard dog nurse at the desk shot them a hard and suspicious look. A scattering of people sat in chairs. All looked weary. One had the shine of burn gel down his left cheek, a walking cast on his right ankle, and his right arm in a sling.

Eve walked to the guard dog, palmed her badge. “What’s Willimina Karson’s condition?”

“I’m going to verify that ID.”

“Go ahead.”

The nurse scanned it. Her stony expression clicked down to stern. “I had some media types try to get past me before. Ms. Karson’s critical. If you want more, if you want specifics, you’ll have to speak to her doctor, and you’ll have to wait. It’s been a hell of a morning.”

“All around. I’d appreciate being informed about any change in her status.”

“I’ll note it down.”

“How many up here from this morning’s incident?”

“Two now, including Ms. Karson. There were three, but she didn’t make it.”

Twelve dead, Eve thought, turning her attention back to the man with the sling and cast.

Middle sixties, she thought, with a lean, distinguished look despite the sweatpants and the I F059 NEW YORK sweatshirt. Both of which looked fresh off the rack and incongruous with the black dress shoes.

“Let’s check him out,” she said to Peabody.

She crossed to him, showed her badge. “Do you have someone in ICU?”

He eyed her carefully, though the left eye was shot with blood. “I do. I’m legal counsel for EconoLift and Willimina Karson’s adviser.”

“You were in the meeting. I’m primary on the investigation. My partner, Detective Peabody.”

“I know who you are. An easy case for New York’s top murder cop, isn’t it, as you already have the killer. Or what’s left of the son of a bitch.” His good hand fisted on his knee, rapped twice. “I wish to God he’d lived through it so I could think of him rotting in a cell for the rest of his life.”

“Peabody, see if there’s a more comfortable, more private place we can talk to—Your name, sir?”