Calculated in Death

explained. “Classic old screen and vids. Classic science fiction. A hacker with humor, and some taste.”
    “Yeah, but I think he should’ve gone for Chekov. He was more of an e-guy as the nav. Or Sulu. He’s the helmsman, but—”
    “Geeks,” Eve grumbled. “Peabody, I want an eight-man team including the geeks here. Give me the sat-scan, McNab, on screen.”
    “You got it. Holy shit!” he said to Roarke. “We’re taking down
The Enterprise
.”

EVE STUDIED THE SATELLITE IMAGE.
    “A lot of ways in and out. We’ll need imaging sensors to determine if he’s in there.”
    “He’d be set up for that,” Roarke told her.
    “Has to be.” Beside Roarke, McNab nodded. “Any kind of a probe, scan, snoop’s bound to set off an alert.”
    “And likely a jam, divert and evade. Hacking’s his world,” Roarke explained. “He’d have programmed a system to block and disable any attempt to do the same to him. He’s good. He’ll have spent considerable time and money to be certain all his doors are bolted, all his windows latched and screened.”
    “Is he better than you?”
    Roarke shifted his gaze. “If you think using my ego will help you, you’re mistaken. Facts are facts.”
    “True’s true, Dallas.” McNab’s hands slid into one of his countless pockets, jingled something inside. “The best hackers are paranoid because, hey, they
know
nothing’s beyond reach. If we try imagery or bypass, he’ll know.”
    “And he very likely has a rat hole to bolt into,” Roarke added. “If he’s in there, you won’t get to him by conventional means. Unless we have time. We’d find a way around his system eventually. Nothing’s beyond reach,” he repeated to McNab and made the e-man grin like a kid on Christmas morning.
    “Oh man, would that rock it out? Hack the Mole. We could run a hypo-analysis of his system factoring known and spec data.”
    “Yes. Extrapolate from that, reform, test the layers—in and ex. Play a dual and diversion.”
    “Man, I
love
that shit.” McNab danced his fingers in the air, boogied his hips.
    Considering, enjoying, Roarke rocked back on his heels as he studied the image. “We have samplings, the fingerprint, and the exterior views here. It’s certainly doable.”
    “How long?” Eve demanded.
    “Oh, with some luck and another two skilled men, maybe a week. With more luck, three days.”
    “Crap. Does it look like I have a week?” She paced away, then back. “I’ve got the resources of the entire EDD, I’ve got the ridiculous resources of the biggest, slickest, most conniving e-geek on or off planet—”
    “Thanks, darling.”
    “And you need a freaking week to
out
geek some skinny hacker who likes to call himself the Mole?”
    Roarke only smiled at her. “That’s about right, yes.”
    “Dallas, the freaking
Enterprise
,” McNab reminded her. “You have to understand the complexities, the filters, the—”
    “No, I don’t.” She pointed at McNab. “You do.” She pointed again, more vehemently when he started to speak again.
    “I
got
it!”
    Eve swung around toward Peabody. “What?”
    Peabody waved her PPC triumphantly. “It’s the Kirk thing,
The Enterprise
thing. It reminded me I’d hit this name that made me snicker when I was running the van—the Cargo. Here it is. Tony Stark.”
    “Oh, baby.” McNab blew her a double-handed kiss. “Good call.”
    “It’s gotta be, right?” Peabody said to McNab. “It’s his style.”
    “Who the hell is Tony Stark?” Eve demanded.
    “Iron Man,” Roarke told her. “Superhero, genius, innovative engineer, and billionaire playboy.”
    “Iron Man? You’re talking about a comic book guy?”
    “Graphic novel,” Roarke and McNab said together.
    “What do you bet it’s him, Dallas?” Peabody asked. “Heroes from classic novels and vids. It fits. They used his van. It’s Milo’s van.”
    “Possibly. Okay, from the looks of you three, probably. We’ll push on it once we have him, but first we have to get him. Now let me think.”
    So she paced, and she plotted. There was no way in hell she’d get this close and surrender to some ferret-faced electronic asshole who used aliases based on fictional characters from science fiction and comic books.
    A geek, she considered. And one who liked to see himself as the hero, the smart one. Billionaire playboy? The one who got the women.
    “Your high-tech can’t beat his high-tech? We go low. We go goddamn classic. Peabody, ditch the