In Death 14 - Reunion in Death

himself.
    "I guess somebody's time was well spent."
    "It was. The meeting went very well. And yours?"
    "Bureaucratic snags." She glared at her computer. "Waiting for paperwork."
    "Of what sort?"
    "Of the legal sort. Privacy codes. Nobody blabs to a badge anymore, especially a foreign badge. And those fancy spa places are damned tight-lipped about who's coming in to have their hips sheered or their chins lifted."
    "Ah, well, if that's all."
    "No. I thought about it-thought about it a little too easy and a little too fast. This is just a hunch, and I'm not having you slide under the law to access data on a hunch."
    "When you spend this much time and energy on an angle, it's more than a hunch."
    "I know this is something she'll do. Maybe not now, but soon. She needs that kind of thing and New York's too risky. She needs to pump herself up, reward herself, before she hits at you. She didn't take the time in Denver, and she could have. She wants something more prestigious, more exclusive. With more... what do you call it? Cachet. So it's France or Italy or something Old World. She doesn't do off planet. It's too nouveau for her."
    "Will you get your warrant?"
    "Yeah, yeah, it's coming. Eventually. Protocol, politics, bullshit."
    "Then what difference does it make, in the grand scheme, if you begin to accumulate data now, or when a document's in your hand?"
    "It's the law."
    And in less than three days, Eve thought, it was highly probable that the woman she hunted would try to kill Roarke. Not because she knew him. Not because she hated him. But because she dismissed the law and all it stood for.
    Because she wanted payback.
    "It's hard for you, being so conflicted over something you want to be black and white. But even the law has shades, Lieutenant, and we both know them all very well."
    She gave up, and stepped into the gray. "She'd use her own initials. She doesn't like to give up her identity. The list, in order of probability percentage is already loaded on my machine."
    "All right then. Let's find her." He sat down at her desk, rolled up the sleeves of his pristine white shirt. "It's really just a head start on a technicality."
    She told herself to think about that later.
    "I'm looking for reservations starting from yesterday through the next four weeks. I could be pushing her into relaxation mode too fast. Maybe she's going for it after she's won the war."
    "We'll scan for the next month then. L'lndulgence first? Over-priced with a coolly efficient staff. Its ratings have stagnated over the last two years. It's falling out of fashion."
    "Which is why you don't own it."
    "Darling, if I did, I'd make certain it remained in fashion. This'll just take a minute or two. Wouldn't you like coffee?"
    "Yeah, I guess."
    "Good. So would I."
    She could recognize a cue when she heard one, so trooped off to the kitchen AutoChef to order up a full pot. When she came back with it and two large mugs, he was already scanning a list of names.
    "I see a couple on here with the right initials, but they're reserved with companions." "She'd travel alone. She has no known associates, doesn't make friends. She makes tools."
    "All right, we'll move on to the next."
    They found two possibles in the next location, allowing Eve to ran standard background checks for elimination. She leaned over Roarke's shoulder, reading data on-screen even as the computer voiced it.
    "No, these are clear. All their documents check out. Just a couple of rich marks paying too much money to get rubbed and scrubbed. Next?"
    He hacked into the guest records at two more facilities before the 'link signaled incoming documents. She snatched out the hard copy of the warrant, rolled her shoulders. "Now we do it my way."
    "My way's much more fun."
    "Out of my chair, pal. And this time you get the coffee."
    Her way offered a different kind of fun by allowing her to irritate reservation managers in several countries. They stalled, complained, cited the insult of invading guests' privacy. And really perked up her mood.
    "I don't care if you've got people coming there who get off on turkey baster enemas. Transmit the list, as ordered in the duly authorized warrant or the next sound you hear will be your own ass plopping into the sling of international incident."
    "Turkey baster enemas?" Roarke said a few moments later as the transmission hummed through.
    "I don't know what they do in those places, but if somebody hadn't thought of that one, they would eventually. She's not