In Death 12 - Betrayal in Death

was reasonably good, and would be outmoded within six months. He happened to know this as one of his research and development companies had just finished a new prototype laser computer that would outpace and outperform everything currently on the market.
    He made a note to himself to have one of his marketing directors contact the NYPSD's acquisitions liaison. He imagined he could make his wife's home away from home a very good deal.
    He spotted McNab in one of those clear, three-sided cubes and made his way through the forest of them. A number of the E-detectives paced the room wearing headsets while calling out data and punching codes into palm PCs, but McNab sprawled at his desk with a brooding look in his eye.
    "Ian."
    McNab jumped, rapped his knee on the underside of his desk. After the obligatory oath, he looked at Roarke. "Hey. What're you doing here?"
    "I'd hoped to see Feeney for a moment."
    "Sure, he's back in his office. Through there," he said, pointing at an opening in the wall. "And to the right. His door's usually open."
    "Fine. Something wrong?"
    McNab jerked his bony shoulders. "Women."
    "Ah. What else can be said?"
    "They're not worth it. That can be said."
    "Trouble with Peabody?"
    "Not anymore. It's time I got back to spreading out my talents. I've got a date with a redhead tonight with the best man-made breasts money can buy and an affection for black leather."
    "I see." And because he did, very well, Roarke gave McNab's shoulder a pat. "I'm sorry."
    "Hey." McNab brushed it off and pretended his belly wasn't full of lead weights. "I'll get by. The redhead's got a sister. We're going to see if we can make it a trio." His 'link beeped. "Got work."
    "Then I'll let you get to it."
    Roarke passed the cubicles and the pacers and slipped into the short corridor that led to Feeney's office. The door was indeed open, and Feeney sat at his desk, his hair standing on end, his eyes blurry as they scanned data flashing like lightning on three wall screens.
    He held up a hand as he caught the movement at the door, eyes still tracking. Then he blinked. "Save, compile, and cross-reference current data with file AB-286. Hold results until command."
    Now he sat back, focused on Roarke. "Didn't expect to see you."
    "Sorry to interrupt."
    "Need a minute to process anyway."
    Roarke smiled. "You or your equipment?"
    "Both. I'm doing search and scans looking for probables and likelies on Yost's employers on various hits. Maybe we find one to pigeonhole and we can get enough data to crawl up his back again."
    He reached into his bowl of nuts. "Hard on the eyes, hours of this. Going to need them fixed again."
    Roarke tipped his head so he could study Feeney's equipment. "That's a nice unit."
    "Took me six weeks to hound them to budget it in for me. Captain of EDD, and I gotta beg for the top of the line. It's pitiful."
    "Your top of the line's going to be a poor second in a few months."
    Feeney sniffed. "I know about your 60 T and M, and the upgrade on the 75,000TMS. Not that I've seen them anywhere but your and Dallas's in-home offices. Guess it's taken you so long to get them on the market, you've run into a few snags."
    "I wouldn't call them snags. What would you think of a Track and Monitoring Unit, running on a 100,000 system, boosting up to five hundred simultaneous functions."
    "There is no 100,000 system. There isn't a chip or combo of chips that can sustain that many functions, no laser power that can reach that speed."
    Roarke merely smiled. "There is now."
    Feeney went pale, laid a hand over his heart. "Don't toy with me, lad. Jokes like that could bring a man to tears."
    "How would you like to test one of the prototypes for me? Put it through its paces, give me your opinion?"
    "My firstborn son is as old as you are yourself, so I don't think you'd have much use for him. What do you want?"
    "Your weight, when it comes to negotiating a contract for Roarke Industries to provide electronic equipment, including this new model, to the NYPSD and after them, as many other police and security departments nationwide, to start, as can be managed."
    "I'll use every ounce of weight that's in me if she does what you say. When can I have her?"
    "Within the week. I'll let you know." He started toward the door.
    "That's what you came in for?"
    "That, and to see my wife before I go. I've some appointments." He turned back, met Feeney's eyes. "Good hunting."
    With a shake of his head and a sigh of lust at the thought of a