In Death 09 - Loyalty in Death

through?" Eve wondered.
    "They never found his right hand. Guy named William Henson. He'd been Rowan's campaign manager during his political runs." Anne rubbed a hand over her slightly queasy stomach and set her coffee aside. "It was believed he was top level in Apollo. It was never proven, and he disappeared the same day Rowan went up. Some speculate he was inside when the bomb went, but that could be wishful thinking."
    "What about their holes, headquarters, arsenals?"
    "Found, destroyed, confiscated. It's assumed everything was found, but if you ask me, that's a big assumption. A lot of the data's sealed tight. Rumor is that a lot of the people taken in were killed without trial, tortured. Family members unlawfully imprisoned or executed." Anne sat again. "It might be true. It couldn't have been pretty, and there's no way it was by the book."
    Eve rose, studied the photos on the board. "In your opinion, this deal is linked with what happened in Arlington?"
    "I want to study the evidence more closely, pull the available data on Arlington, but it follows." She hissed out a breath. "The names -- both mythical types -- the political crap, the material used for explosives. Still, there are variations. It wasn't a military target, there was a warning, no lives were taken."
    "Yet," Eve murmured. "Shoot me whatever data you spring on this, will you? Peabody, Fixer was army during the Urban Wars, let's take a closer look at his service record. Feeney, we need everything he put on that office unit."
    "I'm on it." He rose. "Let me put McNab on that service record. He'll be able to melt through any seals quicker."
    Peabody opened her mouth, then shut it again in a thin line at one warning look from Eve.
    "Tell him to send data to me as he gets it. Let's ride, Peabody. I want to find Ratso."
    "I can access military data," Peabody complained as they headed down to the garage. "It's just a matter of going through channels."
    "McNab can swim the channels faster."
    "He's a show-off," she muttered and made Eve roll her eyes.
    "I'll take a show-off as long as he gets the job done fast. You don't have to like everyone you work with, Peabody."
    "Good thing."
    "Shit, would you look at this?" Eve stopped to study her battered and abused car. Some joker had put a hand-lettered sign on the cracked rear window that read: Show mercy. Terminate me now.
    "That's Baxter's warped sense of humor." Eve ripped the sign away. "If I turn this sucker in to maintenance, they'll just screw it up." She got behind the wheel. "And they'll take a month to do it. I'll never get it back the way it was."
    "You're going to have to have the windows replaced at least," Peabody pointed out and tried to squint through the starburst of cracks on her side.
    "Yeah." She pulled out, wincing when the car shuddered. Glancing up, she saw the sky through the hole in the roof. "Let's hope the temp controls still work."
    "I can put in a request for a replacement."
    "This is a replacement, remember?" Sulking, Eve headed south. "I'm going to take grief for this."
    "I can ask Zeke to take a look at it."
    "I thought he was a carpenter."
    "He's good at everything. He can tinker with the innards, then you just get the glass replaced, the roof patched. It won't be pretty, but you won't have to turn the whole deal over to maintenance or enter the black hole of requisitions."
    Something inside the dash controls began to rattle ominously. "When could he do it?"
    "Soon as you want." She slid Eve a sidelong glance. "He'd really like to see your house. I told him about it, how you've got that mag old wood and furniture and stuff."
    Eve shifted in her seat. "I thought you were going to a play or something tonight."
    "I'll tag him, tell him not to get the tickets."
    "I don't know if Roarke has plans."
    "I'll check with Summerset."
    "Shit. All right, okay."
    "That's so gracious of you, sir." Happily, Peabody took out her palm 'link to call her brother.
    They found Ratso at The Brew, contemplating a plate of what looked like undercooked brains. He blinked up as Eve slid into the booth across from him.
    "These are supposed to be eggs. How come they ain't yellow?"
    "Must be from gray chickens."
    "Oh." Apparently satisfied with that, he dug in. "So what's up, Dallas? You got the guys who done Fixer?"
    "I've got some lines to tug. What have you got?"
    "Word is nobody sees Fixer that night. Don't expect to, 'cause he don't come out at night usual. But Pokey -- you know Pokey, Dallas, he deals