In Death 04 - Rapture in Death

sterilization procedure during the same period."
    "This is interesting." Peabody continued to scan the political screen. "He was endorsing a bill that would require all legal representatives and technicians to be rescreened every five years, at their own expense. That wouldn't sit too well with the legal community."
    "Or with Fitzhugh," Eve murmured. "Looks like he was after the electronic empire, too. Tougher testing requirements for new devices, new licensing laws. That wouldn't have made him Mister Popularity, either. Autopsy report," she demanded, then narrowed her eyes when it flashed on screen.
    She skimmed through the jargon, shook her head. "Boy, was he a mess when they scraped him up. Didn't leave them a hell of a lot to work with. Brain scan and dissection. Nothing," she said after a moment. No report here of an abnormality or flaw."
    "Display," she demanded, and stepped closer to the screen to study the visual herself. "Cross section. Side view, enhance. What do you see, Peabody?"
    "Unattractive gray matter, too damaged for transplant."
    "Enhance right hemisphere, frontal lobe. Jesus, what a fucking mess he made out of himself. You just can't see. Can't be sure." She stared until her eyes burned. Was that a shadow, or was it simply part of the trauma caused when a human skull smashed brutally into concrete?
    "I don't know, Peabody." She had all she needed, and she slid the recorder under her shirt again. "But I do know that there's no motive or predisposition for self-destruct in this data. And that makes three. Let's get the hell out of this place," she decided. "It gives me the creeps."
    "I'm with you all the way on that one."
    They got tubes of Pepsi and what passed for a hash sandwich at a glide-cart on the corner of Pennsylvania Avenue and Security Row. Eve was just about to hail a transport back to the airport when a sleek black limo glided to the curb. The rear window slid down, and Roarke smiled out at them.
    "Would you ladies like a lift?"
    "Wow," was all Peabody could manage as she scanned the car from bumper to bumper. It was a gleaming antique, a luxury from another era, and as romantic and tempting as sin.
    "Don't encourage him, Peabody." When Eve started to climb in, Roarke took her hand and tumbled her into his lap. "Hey." Mortified, she jabbed with her elbow.
    "I love to fluster her when she's on duty," Roarke said, wrestling Eve back onto his lap. "And how was your day, Peabody?"
    Peabody grinned, delighted to see her lieutenant flushed and cursing. "It just got better. If this thing has a privacy screen, I can leave you two alone."
    "I said not to encourage him, didn't I?" This time her elbow had better aim, and Eve managed to slide off onto the seat. "Idiot," she muttered at Roarke.
    "She dotes on me so." He sighed, settled back. "It's almost smothering. If you've finished your police business, can I offer you a tour of the city?"
    "No," Eve said before Peabody could open her mouth. "Straight back to New York. No detours."
    "She's a real party animal, too," Peabody said soberly, then neatly folded her hands and watched the city stream by.

CHAPTER TEN
    Before Eve left for home, she perfected a detailed report on the similarities in the alleged suicides and why her suspicions that the senator's death was due to the same as yet unknown causes. She transferred her findings to the commander's unit, with a flag to his home 'link.
    Unless his wife was hosting one of her ubiquitous dinner parties, she knew Whitney would review the report before morning. With that hope, she took the sky glide from homicide to the Electronic Detective Division.
    She found Feeney at his desk, his stubby fingers holding delicate tools, microglasses turning his eyes to saucers as he stripped down a miniboard.
    "You doing repair and maintenance these days?" She eased a hip on the edge of his desk, careful not to jar his rhythm. She'd expected no more than the grunt she received in response and waited while he transferred a sliver of something onto a clear dish.
    "Somebody's having fun and games," he muttered. "Managed to get a virus of some kind right into the chief's unit. Memory's been boosted, the GCC compromised."
    She glanced at the silver sliver and imagined that was the GCC. Computers weren't her forte. "Got a line on it?"
    "Not yet." With tiny tweezers, he lifted the sliver, studied it through his glasses. "But I will. I found the virus, dosed it, that's first priority. This poor little bastard's dead,