Memory Zero (Spook Squad 1)

“You intend to stand there forever?” While Gabriel’s voice had no inflection, his eyes held a hardness that suggested he understood her sudden reluctance to enter. “We only have half an hour.”

He touched a hand to her back, his fingers warm against her spine, but didn’t push. She licked her lips and stepped inside. The room was sparsely furnished. A large leather sofa faced the ceiling-high wall of glass running the length of the apartment. An entertainment center covered the wall to her left, and a black glass dining table sat in the middle of the room. The apartment had no kitchen or autocook. Maybe it was fully serviced—not that a vampire had any need for it. Two doors led off the main room, and both were closed.

She shoved her hands into her pockets and walked across to the window. The faint strains of a jazz band drifted up from Federation Square. The whole place was ablaze with light and sound and people enjoying life. It was a feeling so different from the one she was getting from this apartment that it might as well have been another world.

She rubbed her arms and turned around. “The com-unit must be in one of the other rooms.”

Gabriel nodded and waved a hand toward the only two interior doors in the apartment. “Care to pick one?”

Both looked identical, but the carpet leading up to the one on the left had definitely seen more traffic. “Left door.”

She followed him across the room. The door slid open silently, revealing another large expanse of carpet and a big round bed draped in red silk. She walked over and lightly touched the sheets. Real silk, not fake. While it went with the feel of the apartment, it didn’t go with what she knew of Jack. So who was the genuine article? The man who owned this apartment, with its bed big enough to hold a party in and the million-dollar view, or the rough, friendly man who’d been her partner these past five years?

“Right door first time,” Gabriel murmured, as he walked across to the com-unit. “You sure you’ve never been here before?”

His hazel eyes were cold and cynical. He still wasn’t entirely convinced that she and Jack were only friends. On some level, he still thought they were involved—not as lovers, perhaps, but as conspirators. It was a belief she could at least live with, since time and evidence would prove her innocence.

She hoped.

She ignored his question, dug into her bag and got out the disks. “Let’s hope the computer’s not security coded.”

He accepted the disks as he sat down on the chair. The com-screen came to life, revealing a dusky-skinned, large-busted woman with the most amazing green eyes. Sam smiled. At least she was clothed. Most of the digital personalities she’d seen Jack use were of the wild-and-free variety.

“How may I help you?” a husky voice asked.

“Translate data disks.”

“Translation proceeding.”

She raised an eyebrow. No security code, not even voice-key security. Why? Was Jack so confident no one knew about this apartment that he just hadn’t bothered?

“Translation finished. Do you wish to view results?”

He glanced at her. “Wouldn’t have a spare disk in your ba

g, would you?”

She hesitated, then dug the wristcom out of her bag. “I have this. Almost as good.”

“I’m surprised State didn’t request this back when they suspended you.”

“They did. This is Jack’s.”

He gave her a half-smile as he attached the wristcom to the com-unit. “Obviously, they weren’t watching you closely enough. You should never have been able to get something like this out of the building after you were suspended.”

She shrugged. “But I didn’t leave right away. I went down for psych evaluations.”

“Same thing. If you ask me, your captain was giving you time.”

She remembered feeling surprised when she’d walked out of the cap’s office to find no escort. Had the captain given her the only help he could, time alone to sort through Jack’s desk and maybe find some clue? If he had, it would suggest he’d believed her version of events, and that, at least, was good to know, even if he couldn’t actually do anything official to help her.

“Computer, display results, then download all three translations to wristcom …” Gabriel hesitated, glancing at her.

“1045,” she supplied.

“1045,” he repeated.

“Proceeding. Disk one currently on screen.”