In Death 08 - Conspiracy in Death

And, she observed with some fascination, more Irish.
    "Bloody buggering hell, where did he get this?" Frustration shimmered in his eyes as he pounded out a new combination of keys. "Oh no, you slippery bastard, there's a trap there. I can see that well enough. He's good. Aye, damn good; but I've nearly got him. Fuck me!" He shoved back, snarled at the monitor.
    Eve opened her mouth, then thinking better of it, shut it again and got another cup of coffee. It was so rare to see him... out of sorts, she decided.
    Toying with another angle, she took a chair across the room and used the 'link to contact Louise. She was greeted by a slurred "Dr. Dimatto" and a fuzzed video.
    "It's Dallas, I've got a job for you."
    "Do you know what the hell time it is?"
    "No. I need you to check the records on the main system at your clinic. Any and all incoming and outgoing transmissions to this list of clinics. Paying attention?"
    "I hate you, Dallas."
    "Uh-huh. The Drake, Nordick in Chicago -- are you getting this?"
    The video cleared, showing an image of a rumpled, heavy-eyed Louise. "I worked a double today, did a medi-van run. I have the morning shift. So you'll excuse me for telling you to go to hell."
    "Don't cut me off. I need this data."
    "Last I heard, you were off the case. It's one thing for me to agree to a consult with a cop and another to pass confidential data to a civilian."
    The word civilian stung a great deal more than Eve expected it to. "People are still dead, whether I have a badge or not."
    "And if the new investigator asks for my help, I'll cooperate, within the limits of the law. If I do what you want me to do and get caught, I could lose the clinic."
    Eve balled her fists, struggling with frustration. "Your clinic's an armpit," she tossed back. "How much would it take to rip it into the twenty-first century?"
    "Half a million, minimum, and when I manage to break the limits on my trust fund, it'll get it. So to repeat myself, you go to hell."
    "Just hold on a minute. One damn minute, okay?" She shifted the unit to mute. "Roarke?" She called out again, testily, when he ignored her, and she received an annoyed grant in response. "I need a half a million dollars for a bribe."
    "Well, tap your account, there's plenty there. Don't talk to me until I get this fucker."
    "My account?" she repeated, but only hissed at his back, afraid Louise would disconnect and refuse another transmission. "I'll have a half million transferred anywhere you want, the minute the data's accessed for me."
    "I beg your pardon?"
    "You want the money for the clinic, you get me the data I need. Here's the list of health centers." She tossed them up, gratified to see Louise shove herself up and grab a memo book.
    "If you're stringing me, Dallas -- "
    "I don't lie. Get the data, don't get caught, and get it to me. We'll arrange for a transfer of funds. So don't string me, Louise. Do we have a deal or not?"
    "Damn, you play tough. I'll get the data and be in touch when I can. You've just saved hundreds of lives."
    "That's your job. I save the dead." She broke transmission just as Roarke let out one pithy "Ha! I'm in." He wiggled his fingers to loosen them, picked up his coffee, and sipped. "Jesus, are you trying to poison me?"
    "I put that there an hour ago. And what the hell do you mean dip into my own account, there's plenty there?"
    "Plenty of what? Oh." He rose to stretch his shoulders and replace his stale coffee. "You have a personal account that's been open for months. Don't you ever look at your finances?"
    "I have -- had -- a cop's salary, which means I have no finances. My personal account has about two hundred dollars in it, since Christmas wiped out the rest."
    "That would be your professional account. You have your salary automatically transferred. I thought you meant your personal account."
    "I've only got one account."
    Patiently, he sipped his coffee, rotated his neck. He decided he wanted a session in the whirlpool. "No, you have two accounts with the one I opened for you last summer. Do you want to see this log?"
    "One damn minute." She slapped a hand on his bare chest. "You opened it for me? What the hell did you do that for?"
    "Because we got married. It seemed logical, even normal."
    "Just how much seemed logical, even normal to you?"
    He ran his tongue around his teeth. She was, he knew well, a woman with a temper and what he often thought as a screwed sense of pride. "I believe, if memory serves, the account was seeded with