Seduction in Death (17 page)

Moniqua's face went vague again. "Talk about?"

"With Byron. When you had drinks with him last night."

"Oh, ah, poetry. And art. Travel. We both like to travel, though he's been so many more places than I have. We had champagne, and caviar. I've never had caviar before. I don't think it agreed with me. I must have gotten ill."

"Were you ill at the hotel?"

"No. I -- no, I don't think... I must have had too much to drink. I'm usually careful not to have more than one glass. I remember, I remember now. Feeling very strange, but good. Happy. He was so perfect, so attractive. I kissed him. Kept kissing him. I wanted to get a room in the hotel. That's not like me." Her fingers pulled weakly at the sheet. "I must've had too much to drink."

"You suggested getting a room in the hotel?"

"Yes. He laughed. It wasn't a pleasant laugh, but I was so drunk, I didn't care. Why did I drink so much? And he said... Take me home with you, and we'll do things the poets write of."

She closed her eyes. "Corny. But it didn't seem corny then. He told me to pay the check. I wasn't offended or surprised that he meant for me to pay, even though he'd made the date. I went in to freshen up, and all I could think was I was going to have amazing sex with this perfect man. And I could hardly wait to get my hands on him. We took a cab. I paid for that, too. And in the cab..."

The faintest color washed into her cheeks. "I think I must've dreamed all this. I must have dreamed it. He whispered a suggestion in my ear. What he wanted me to do." She opened her eyes again. "I went down on him, in the cab. I couldn't wait to. It wasn't a dream, was it?"

"No, it wasn't a dream."

"What did he give me?" She groped for Eve's hand, her fingers trying to squeeze, but only twitching. "What was in those drinks?"

Her hand moved, restlessly. Eve covered it. Gripped it. "I wasn't drunk, was I? It was like being hypnotized."

"You weren't drunk, Moniqua, and you're not responsible for anything you did. He drugged you. Tell me what happened when you got to your apartment."

"She needs to rest now." Michaels glanced at the monitors, back at Eve. "She's talked long enough. You have to leave."

"No." Moniqua's fingers moved in Eve's hand. "He gave me something that made me do those things to him, with him, made me let him do those things to me? He nearly killed me, didn't he?"

"Very nearly," Eve agreed. "But you're a hell of a lot stronger than he anticipated. Help me catch him. Tell me what happened in your apartment."

"It's hazy. I was dizzy, queasy. He put on music, lit candles. He had candles in his bag, and another bottle of champagne. I didn't want anymore, but he wanted me to drink. I did exactly what he asked me to do. Every time he touched me, I wanted him to touch me again. He said it needed to be perfect. That he was going to prepare... set the stage. I should wait. I felt sick. I didn't want to tell him I felt sick because he might not stay. So when he went into the bedroom, I went into the bath and was sick. After, I felt a little better. Steadier. I went into the bedroom. He had champagne by the bed, and dozens of candles lighted. There were rose petals all over the bed. Pink roses, like the ones he must have sent me at work a few days before. I'd never had anyone go to such trouble."

Tears spilled down her cheeks. "It was so lovely, almost painfully romantic. I actually loved him, in that instant when I walked in and saw him, I was wildly, recklessly in love with him. He undressed me, said I was beautiful. It was all very gentle at first, very sweet and intimate. A fantasy, really. After a while, he handed me the glass. I told him I didn't want more champagne, but he just looked at me, told me to drink it and I did. Then it wasn't gentle. It was outrageous. Like going mad. Like becoming an animal. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Burning from the inside out, and my heart beating so fast it felt like it would explode. He was watching me. I can see his eyes now, watching me. He told me to say his name. But it wasn't his name."

"What name was it?"

"Kevin. He told me his name was Kevin. Then it was as if things inside me, my head, my body, ripped. And everything stopped. I couldn't move or see or hear. Buried alive." Now she wept. "He buried me alive."

"No, he didn't." Eve leaned over before Michaels could move in. "You're here and safe and alive. He's never going to touch you again. Moniqua, he's never going to touch you again."

She turned her face weakly to the pillow as the tears flowed. "I let him inside me."

"No, you didn't. He violated you. He forced you."

"No, I let -- "

"He forced you," Eve repeated. "Look at me. Listen to me. He took your choice away, and he raped you. His weapon was a drug instead of a knife or his fists, but it was still a weapon. Putting rose petals on the bed doesn't make what he did any less criminal. But you beat him. And I'm going to put him away for you. I know someone you can talk to, who'll help you through this."

"I never told him to stop. I didn't want him to."

"You're not responsible. This wasn't about sex. Rape never is. This was about him controlling you. You couldn't stop him last night, but you can now. Don't let him control you now."

"He raped me, and then he left me to die. I want him to pay for making me feel like this."

"Leave that part to me."

Eve felt slightly ill when she stepped out again. It was brutal, always brutal, for her to interview rape victims. To look at them and see herself.

She took a moment, bracing a hand against the outer doors, waiting to settle again.

"Lieutenant?"

She straightened, turned to Michaels.

"You did very well with her. I'd expected you to push for more detail."

"I will, next time. I've got to dig out my rubber hose. Can't recall where I left it."

He offered a slow, half smile. "I didn't expect her to live. Medically, her chances were slim to none. But that's one of the rewards of my profession. The small miracles. She still has a rough road ahead, physically and emotionally."

"You can contact Dr. Charlotte Mira."

Impressed, he angled his head. "Dr. Mira?"

"If she can't treat Moniqua personally, she'll give the case to the best rape therapist available. You guys work on giving her back her physical and emotional health. I'll work on giving her justice."

She pushed through the doors, signalled to Peabody, and kept going. She wanted out of the hospital almost as much as she wanted to breathe.

"Sir." Peabody jogged to keep pace. "Everything all right?"

"She's alive, she's talking, and she's given us the bastard's first name. Kevin."

"Solid. But I was talking about you. You look a little whipped."

"I'm fine. I just hate fucking hospitals," she muttered. "Maintain the guard on Moniqua, and the checks on her condition. Make a note to contact Mira and ask her to consult with Michaels over her therapy."

"I didn't think Mira took private consults."

"Just make a note of it, Peabody." She kept her breathing shallow until she shoved through the hospital doors and strode outside. "Christ! How do people stand being in those places? I've got a personal call to make. Step aside, will you? Call Moniqua's status into the commander and tell him my report will be forthcoming."

"Yes, sir. There's some benches just over there. Why don't you make that call sitting down?" Because you're white as a sheet, she wanted to say. But knew better.

Eve walked over to sit in a little area of green the city planners liked to call micro-parks. The trio of dwarf trees and scatter of flowers were jammed into a narrow island between parking lots. But she supposed it was the thought that counted.

Still, she wished they'd thought to plant something with fragrance. She wanted the stench of hospital out of her system.

She wasn't sure where to tag Roarke. She tried his personal line first, was switched to voice mail so she disconnected. She put the next through to his midtown offices and hit on his admin.

"I need to locate him."

"Of course, Lieutenant. He's on a holo-transmission, if you wouldn't mind waiting a moment. How are you?"

Right, Eve thought. Courtesy and conversation, a duo she often neglected. "Fine, thanks. How are you, Caro?"

"Very well. Delighted the boss is back, though it seems we're busier yet when he's in the cockpit. I'll just beep in and let him know you're on the line."

Waiting, Eve tipped her face back to the sun. It was always cold in hospitals, she thought. The kind of cold that crept into her bones.

"Lieutenant." She focused her attention on Roarke's voice, on his face on-screen. "What's wrong?" he queried.

"Nothing. Need a favor."

"Eve. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Really. Moniqua Cline regained consciousness. I just finished questioning her. She's going to tough this out, but it's hard on her."

"And on you."

"I know some of what's going through her head. I know some of what she's going to feel in the middle of the night." She shook it off. "That's not why I called, and you're in the middle of a transmission."

"It can wait. A benefit of being in charge. What can I do for you?"

"Question. Is it possible for you to monitor a standard account, monitor any e-mail, block same?"

"Private citizens who attempt any of the above are in violation of e-privacy laws and subject to fines and/or imprisonment."

"Which means you can."

"Oh. I assumed the question was rhetorical." He smiled at her. "Who do you want me to monitor?"

"Stefanie Finch. She's a potential target. At the moment she's in the air somewhere between the U.S. and England on shuttle runs. When she lands, I want to tell her who and what she's been playing with in hopes I can enlist her help to reel these guys in. But I don't know how she'll react, and she's going to have too much time to fiddle around before I have her under control. I can't chance her going off on a rip and tipping her cyber-pal."

"So you want to block all her transmissions and cyber-activities?"

"That's the ticket. I don't want anything she sends getting through until I'm sure of her cooperation and I have a warrant to put a filter on her transmissions. The warrant's not going to cover us until she's back in New York."

"You know how it excites me whenever you ask me to slip through one of the loops in the law."

"Remind me later why I married a pervert."

"I'll be happy to." His smile spread because color had come back into her face.

"How soon can you have it done?"

"I have some things to finish up here. Best to do this little task at home on the unregistered. Give me two hours. Oh, Lieutenant? I don't suppose this bit of business goes into my report as expert consultant, civilian."

"Kiss ass."

"As long as it's yours, darling."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

When Eve finally ran Theodore McNamara to ground, she was shown into his office by a bird of a woman who chirped about the doctor's demanding schedule and the need to keep the audience brief.

"The doctor really has no time for an extra appointment today. As you know, Dr. McNamara has just returned from a very important consult session on Tarus II."

"He's about to have a very important consult session on Planet Earth," Eve returned. For her own amusement, Eve lengthened her stride so the woman was forced to trot to keep up as they navigated the short breezeway that connected McNamara's office to the main building at J. Forrester. Outside the glass a medi-copter banked left for landing on the heliport of the adjoining hospital facilities.

She saw a half dozen medical personnel waiting for the transport, and imagined the noise was horrendous. But inside the breezeway the air was silent, cool, and faintly floral.

It appeared Dr. McNamara had disconnected himself from the petty pains and troubles of those his facility served.

The breezeway opened into the office area done in stark white. Walls, rugs, consoles, chairs, even the uniforms of the drones who went silently about their business were unrelieved white.

It was, Eve thought, like walking inside an eggshell.

They passed through a set of glass doors that whisked open silently at their approach, and moved down yet another corridor. At the end loomed a set of glossy white doors. The woman knocked with a kind of fearful reverence.

The doors slid apart, but the woman stood where she was. "Lieutenant Dallas and aide, Dr. McNamara."

"Yes, yes. See that we're not disturbed. Ten minutes. Come in, Lieutenant. My time is very valuable."

He sat in front of a wall of glass at a desk so massive and white it resembled an ice floe. It stood on a platform three steps above the rest of the office so that McNamara peered down, an eagle on his perch, at lesser mortals.

His hair was white -- a sleek, close-cut cap that hugged his skull. He had a long, hollowed face dominated by dark, impatient eyes that scowled beneath the white peaks of his brows. His black suit was a slash of power against the frigid white of the room.

"Golly," Peabody said under her breath, "it's the great and powerful Oz."

"State your business," he demanded. "I'm a busy man."

And one who liked to intimidate, Eve mused. They were not invited to sit, but even standing she was forced to look up to meet his gaze.

"You'd have saved us both time if you'd returned the transmissions I sent to you on Tarus II."

"The consult session was my priority. I am not attached as a medical consultant to the NYPSD."

"Which makes you a civilian, and gives me the authority to continue this interview at Cop Central, which I will enforce if necessary. Now, we can continue this pissing contest or you can agree to cooperate."

"You're in my office. It appears I am cooperating."

Annoyed, Eve strode up the steps to the platform. She saw cold fury wash over his face as he was forced to tip his head back. "Peabody. Stills."

Though she knew it was small of her, Peabody enjoyed watching her lieutenant screw up the power structure of the room. "Yes, sir." She passed the photos up.

Eve laid them on the pristine surface of the desk. "Do you recognize any of these women?"

"I do not."

"Bryna Bankhead, Grace Lutz, Moniqua Cline. Ring any bells?"

"No."

"Funny as their names and faces have been all over the media the last few days."

His stare never wavered. "I've been off planet, as you know."

"Last I heard they had media transmissions on Tarus II."

"I don't have time for gossip and media blathering. Nor for guessing games. Now, Miss Dallas, if you'd tell me what it is you wish to discuss -- "

"Lieutenant Dallas. You were involved in a research project partnered by J. Forrester and Allegany Pharmaceuticals that involved experimentation with certain controlled substances."

"Research on sexual dysfunction and infertility. Successful research," he added, "that resulted in two landmark medications."

"The project was aborted due to cost overruns, lawsuits, and rumors of substance abuse and sexual misconduct by project staff."

"Your information is flawed. Abuse was never substantiated. The project produced important results and simply ran its course."

"Apparently someone's still experimenting. Two women are dead, another's in critical condition. They were given fatal doses of the substances commonly known as Whore and Wild Rabbit, in combination. Someone has a substantial supply of both, or the means to create them."

"Drugs used to benefit mankind can and will be abused in the wrong hands. It's not my job to police the masses. It's yours."

"Who on your former research team might have those wrong hands?"

"All doctors and technicians who were involved were thoroughly screened and hand selected."

"And still, there was recreational and criminal use. This isn't gossip or blathering," she said before he could interrupt. "This is a murder investigation. Sex and power, that's a heady temptation."

"We were scientists, not sex mongers."

"Why are all the records sealed? Why are there seals on all the civil cases brought against the project?"

"No civil cases were ever brought to trial. No charges of misconduct were ever pressed. Therefore, it's a matter of privacy to seal records of frivolous suits that impinged upon the names and reputations of those associated with the project. Of maintaining dignity."

Eve pushed the photographs closer. "Someone invaded their privacy, Doctor. Big-time. And didn't leave them with their dignity."

"That has nothing to do with me."

"The project made a lot of money for its top people and its initial investors. It takes a lot of money to play with these particular illegals. I'm looking for two men, men with the means to buy or create substantial quantities of those illegals. Men with expert knowledge of chemistry and electronics. Men who consider women not only fair game, but disposable entertainment. Sexual predators, Dr. McNamara. Who worked with you, who fits that bill?"

"I can't help you. Your problem has nothing to do with the project, nothing to do with me. The project created medication that changed lives. I won't have you besmirch my work or my reputation because you're unable to do your job."

He shoved the stills back toward Eve. "It's more likely these women invited, even encouraged the use of the drugs. Any woman who agrees to meet a man she knows only through mail is soliciting a sexual advance."

"I guess she solicits them just because she was born with tits." Eve scooped up the stills. "It sounds like you caught some blathering after all. I never mentioned how these women met their attackers."

"Your time's up." He pressed a button under the desk and the doors opened. "If you wish to speak with me again, you'll have to contact my attorneys. If I hear any public mention of my name, this facility, or the project in connection with your investigation, they will be contacting you."

She debated hauling him in then and there, then punching her way through the legal uproar. The media would go wild, and the case could potentially be damaged by the exposure. "I always wonder how it is some doctors have such little respect for human life." She stepped off the platform, handed the stills to Peabody. "We'll talk again," she told him and strode out just before the doors clicked shut at her back.

"He's a creep," Peabody said. "A misogynist and a demigod."

"And he knows something. I want a low profile on this, so we play it by the book with him. Contact his reps and arrange a formal interview at Central. We're going to put some pressure on breaking those sealed records. Get yourself back to Central and start the paperwork."

"He'll fight it."

"Yeah, but he'll lose. Eventually. I'm working from home. I'll pass on data as I get it."

Roarke was already there when she arrived, but she left the door between their offices closed. She sat at her desk and began generating a series of reports. She knew enough about politics and demigods to be certain she'd have to cover her ass as far as McNamara was concerned. Men like him didn't just call lawyers. She had no doubt her commander's, the chief's, the mayor's, even the governor's ears would be ringing with her name in very short order.

She could handle the heat, but she didn't want the fire taken off the case while it was scorching her ass.

When she was satisfied she transmitted copies to all appropriate parties. Next came the pitch to break sealed files for investigatory use in multiple homicides. It was a tricky business, and even if the request went through, it would take precious days.

There was a quicker way. She glanced up at the door that joined her workspace with Roarke's. Quicker, slicker, and virtually undetectable if she gave him the job.

She'd crossed that line before and would again if she had to. But for now, she'd try the system.

"Computer." Absently she rubbed at the back of her neck. "All available data on McNamara, Dr. Theodore, display on wall screen."

Working... Data displayed.

She rose, working the tension out of her shoulders as she read the information. The man was eighty-six, and obviously made good use of his face and body sculptors. His education and work records were impressive. He'd had one marriage, and one child from it -- a daughter.

Eve pursed her lips and speculated.

When she heard the door behind her open, she spoke without turning. "You've got a man who doesn't particularly like women as a species, considers them inferior. Well, to be fair, considers everyone inferior, but I got a definite vibe women were lowest on his feeding chain. Called me 'miss,'" she grumbled.

"And lived?" Roarke stepped behind her and began rubbing her shoulders. It passed briefly through her mind that he had some sort of weird psychic ability to hit just the right spot.

"I'd have knocked him around for it, but he's almost ninety. Anyway, a guy like this has one kid and that kid turns out to be a female. That'd be a disappointment, wouldn't it?"

"I suppose it would, if he's an asshole."

"Yeah, he's an asshole. So, why didn't he try again, until he got it right? If the wife was the problem, fertility or otherwise, there are plenty of ways around it. Even forty, fifty years ago, there were ways around it. But maybe he didn't have enough soldiers to do the job. What a pisser."

"Speaking as a man, I can say that finding oneself unable to create a child would be difficult to accept." He brushed his lips over her hair. "And if a child was desired, I'd do whatever could be done to fix the problem."

"Fertility tests... they must be really personal, embarrassing. Especially for a guy with a really whopping ego." She glanced over her shoulder.

"Are you asking my opinion as you assume I have a really whopping ego?"

"We could fill Madison Square with your ego, pal. It just runs different than this jerk's. Maybe it explains why he shifted gears from private practice into research -- sexual dysfunction and fertility research. Let's take a look at the daughter. Computer, standard background run on Dunwood, Sarah. Nee McNamara."

Working...

"To show how good-natured I am," Roarke began, "I'll ignore that insult and tell you I've just finished my assignment. Transmissions are blocked, and will be diverted to an account I've just created for you."

"I didn't ask you to divert them."

"Two services for the price of one." He whipped her around and crushed his mouth to hers. His hands gripped her butt, squeezed, and molded her body against his. "There. That ought to cover it."

"Stop trying to cloud my brain. I'm on the clock."

Data accessed... Display or audio?

"Display," Eve said even as Roarke ordered audio.

Conflicting command. Holding...

"Cut it out," Eve ordered as he tugged her shirt from her waistband. "What's wrong with you?"

"Apparently not a thing." But he laughed and let her muscle away. "Display data."

"She's fifty-three," Eve said. "Followed in Daddy's footsteps right down the line. Same schools, same training, same hospital residency. And straight into research. One marriage. One child. Carbon copy. Except she got the boy. And look at his DOB. Only a year after the start of the project. She'd already been married eight years. Wouldn't surprise me if she not only worked on the project, but was part of the study."

She blew out a breath. "And what the hell does that have to do with murder? There's a connect. I know there's a connect. Her husband was part of the team, too. But he's too old for these hits. And the son's too young. What is he twenty-one, twenty-two? He was an infant during the heyday of the project. Still... Computer, access all available data, Dunwood, Lucias. Display on wall screen."

Working...

While his data was being accessed a few blocks away, Lucias strolled into the formal parlor of his townhouse. His grandfather rarely paid personal calls, and certainly never spur-of-the-moment visits.

If the king dropped by, there was a reason. Speculating on what it might be had Lucias's palms going damp. He wiped them distractedly on his slacks before he entered the room, smoothed them over his tight red curls, then fixed a pleased and welcoming expression on his face.

"Grandfather, what a wonderful surprise. I didn't realize you were back."

"I arrived last night. Where is Kevin?"

"Oh, at his computers, where else? Shall I arrange for drinks? I have a very nice scotch. I think you'll approve of it."

"This isn't a social call, Lucias. I want to speak with Kevin as well."

"Of course." The sweat that had dampened his palms ran in a thin, nasty line down his back. He gestured casually to the waiting server droid. "Tell Mr. Morano my grandfather's here and wishes to see him."

"Immediately," McNamara added.

"Of course. And how was your trip?" Lucias went to the antique cabinet that held the liquor. His grandfather might not want a drink, but he needed one.

"Productive. A word you've become unfamiliar with since you graduated college."