In Death 15 - Purity in Death

want to inform your client that with duly executed warrants his data and communication centers were confiscated from his residence in this city, and from the portable registered to him found in the Albany location. Said units were then officially logged. Technicians attached to NYPSD extracted data and transmissions from said units. This data, these transmissions, lock your client in a cage, away from his family, away from his friends, away from whatever has previously passed for his world for the rest of his natural life."
    She smiled when she said it, and kept her eyes on Dukes's face. "You can also relate to your client that I'm just as happy about that as I can be. I danced all the way in here this morning. Right, Peabody?"
    "You do a mean tango, Lieutenant."
    "Your sarcasm is noted on record," Snyder said.
    "You betcha."
    "If, as you claim, you are in possession of such damning evidence against my client, I fail to see why you're wasting your time in this interview."
    "Mostly I wanted to gloat." She grinned. "And, as much as it offends my sensibilities, I'm required to give this asshole - excuse me - your client an opportunity to show remorse, and to cooperate so that such remorse and cooperation may be considered during his sentencing. Have you guys done the math? Eight counts first-degree murder. There's a cop in there, which puts that single count at full life, off planet facility, no possibility of parole."
    "Lieutenant." Snyder spread his hands. "You don't have first and you certainly can't hang the cop on my client. The fact is, you don't have any direct evidence linking Donald Dukes to the alleged activities of this supposed organization."
    "Either you're as bloody as your client, or he hasn't given you full disclosure. Which do you figure, Peabody?"
    "I think we should give Mr. Snyder the benefit of the doubt. I think Dukes is too puffed up with his own importance to believe he needs to tell his lawyer everything. He likes being in charge too much."
    "You think wearing that uniform makes you somebody," Dukes said under his breath.
    "Yeah." Peabody edged closer. "It makes me a cop. It makes me somebody who's sworn to protect the public against people like you. It makes me," she said, slapping her palms on the table and pushing her face close to his, "one of the people who walked through the blood you spilled."
    "You will not speak directly to my client." Snyder shoved to his feet, and to Eve's delight, Peabody shifted and got up in his face.
    "Your client spoke directly to me, on record. He does that, I'm free to respond, on record."
    "Now, now, class." Eve clapped her hands once, made a sit-down gesture. "Let's not let our tempers override our manners. If we're going to give Snyder the benefit of the doubt, then we owe it to him, and his associates here, to inform them of the evidence that is now in our hands."
    "Maybe we should just toss him to the P.A. Let them sink."
    "Peabody, that's very harsh."
    "If the two of you think you can run the good cop/bad cop routine on me," Snyder began.
    "Wouldn't think of it." Eve grinned fiercely. "And just FYI, I'm the bad cop. I'm always the bad cop."
    "Bitch," Dukes muttered.
    "See, he knows. To respond to the bitch comment," Eve continued, "let me just say, you ain't seen nothing yet, Don. We ID'd your brainchild. We duped it, and we tracked it back to the source. Your little workshop unit. Your fingerprints, your voice prints, your personal code. You and nobody else. Didn't think we could pull it out, did you?"
    Now Eve leaned forward. "I've got a couple of techs at my disposal that make you look like a first-year hacker."
    "That's bullshit."
    "Infected e-mail transmitted from your unit, by you, to Louis K. Cogburn, eight July 2059, at fourteen hundred hours. Infected e-mail transmitted to Chadwick Fitzhugh, eight July, at twenty-three fourteen."
    With her eyes on his, she recited every transmission she'd committed to memory. She saw the disbelief wash over his face, then the anger flood it.
    She wanted the anger.
    "We've got you nailed. They knew we'd hang you when we busted this open. You're not a general, Don. You're not even a soldier to the ones running this show. You're the sacrificial lamb."
    "You don't know squat. You're nothing but some dried-up female trying to pass for a man."
    "Think so? I'll show you my balls, Don, you show me yours."
    "I wish to consult with my client," Snyder interrupted. "Privately. I wish to terminate this interview until I've