In Death 06 - Vengeance in Death

grief and despair only a woman can know."
    Eve glanced at McNab, who was hunched over his equipment and swearing under his breath. "You think you can get to Roarke? You overestimate yourself. He'll flick you off like a gnat. We've already had some good laughs over it."
    "I can rip out his heart any time I please." The voice had changed. There was fury in it but the fury was nearly a whine.
    "Prove it -- he'll meet you. Name the spot."
    There was silence for a long moment. "You think you can draw me out that way? Another Eve offering forbidden fruit? I'm not the sheep but the shepherd. I have accepted the task, I hold the staff."
    The voice wasn't quite controlled. No, Eve thought, it was fighting for control. Temper and ego. Those were her keys inside him.
    "I think you're too much of a coward to risk it. You're a sick, pathetic coward who probably can't get it up unless he uses both hands."
    "Bitch, cop whore. I know what women of your kind do to a man. 'For a harlot may be hired for a loaf of bread, but an adulteress stalks a man's very life.' "
    "I'm getting something," McNab whispered. "I'm getting it. Keep him talking."
    "I wasn't offering you sex. I don't think you'd be very good at it."
    "The harlot did. She offered her honor for her life. But God ordered her execution. His will be done."
    He has another one was all Eve could think. She may already be too late. "You're boring me, pal. Your riddles are boring me. Why don't we just go to the main match, you and me, and see what shakes down?"
    "There will be nine before it is accomplished." His voice grew stronger, like an evangelist's saving souls. "A novena of vengeance. It's not your time, but hers. Another riddle, Lieutenant, for your petty and secular mind: Pretty girls grow into pretty women, but once a whore, always a whore. They come running when the price is right. You'll find this one in the west, in the year of her crime. How long she breathes depends on her -- and you, Lieutenant. But do you really want to save a whore who once spread her legs for the man you spread them for? Your move," he said and ended transmission.
    "He's bouncing the transmission all over hell and back. Goddamn it." McNab shoved at his hair and flexed his fingers. "Got him on Orion, into Stockholm, up into Vegas Two, and through Sydney for Christ's sake. I can't pin him. He's got me out-equipped."
    "He's in New York," Roarke said. "The rest is smoke."
    "Yeah, well, it's damn good smoke."
    Eve ignored McNab and concentrated on Roarke. His face was pale and set, his eyes icily blue. "You know who he has."
    "Yes. Jennie. Jennie O'Leary. I just spoke with her two days ago. She was once a barmaid in Dublin and now runs a B and B in Wexford."
    "Is that in the west of Ireland?" Even as Roarke shook his head, she was rising, skimming her fingers through her hair. "He can't want us to go to Ireland. That can't be right. He's got her here, he wants us here. I don't have any authority in Ireland, and he wants me in charge."
    "The West Side," Peabody suggested.
    "Yeah, that would fit. The West Side -- in the year of her crime," she added, looking at Roarke.
    "Forty-three. Twenty forty-three."
    "West Forty-third then. That's where we start. Let's move, Peabody."
    "I'm going with you." Roarke laid a hand on Eve's arm before she could protest. "I have to. McNab, call this number." He turned long enough to scrawl a 'link series onto a card. "Ask for Nibb. Tell him to have a 60K Track and Monitor unit and a 7500MTS sent over, along with his best tech to install it here in my wife's office."
    "There's no 60K T and M," McNab objected.
    "There will be in about six months. We have some test units."
    "Holy shit, 60K." McNab nearly shuddered with delight. "I don't need a tech. I can handle it."
    "Have him send one anyway. Tell him I want it up and running by noon."
    When he was alone, McNab looked at the card and sighed. "Money doesn't just talk. It sings."
    Eve got behind the wheel and took off down the drive the minute the doors were shut. "Peabody, run all the flops and LC nests on West Forty-third."
    "Licensed companions? Oh, I get it." She pulled out her personal palm computer and got to work.
    "He wants her to die in a whore's surroundings -- my guess is the sleazier the better. Roarke, what do you own on West Forty-third that fits the bill?"
    Another time he would have made a joke of that. He took out his own ppc and requested the data. "I own two buildings on West Forty-three. One is a