In Death 15 - Purity in Death

time, Commander."
    "If I could make time, my day would be a lot less harried. Make it fast, Lieutenant."
    He continued to read whatever data was on his desk screen. His profile was stony. The bulk of him suited the large and currently cluttered desk as did the weight of his command. Both that bulk and that weight, Eve had reason to know, carried steely muscle.
    "Regarding the incident involving Officer Trueheart, sir. I've gathered additional data, which indicates the terminated assailant may have suffered from a preexisting that caused his death. ME Morris is still running tests but has stated that due to this condition the subject would have died within the hour."
    "Morris shot me a brief prelim on that. You have loyal associates, Dallas."
    "Sir. Trueheart has completed Testing by now. Results should be in by morning. I'd like to postpone any IAB involvement until the investigation into yesterday's incident shows clearly if any such involvement is warranted or necessary."
    Whitney turned to her now, his wide, dark face closed. "Lieutenant, do you have any reason to believe that a standard IAB investigation and interview will cast any shadow on the actions taken by this officer?"
    "No, Commander."
    "Then let it ride. Let it ride," he repeated before she could speak. "Let the boy stand for himself. Let him clear himself. He'll be the better for it. Having you in his corner is one thing. Having you stand as a shield is another entirely."
    "I'm not trying to . . ." She trailed off, realizing she was doing just that. "Permission to speak frankly, Commander."
    "As long as it's brief."
    "I feel some responsibility as I brought Trueheart in from his former detail. A few months ago he was seriously injured on one of my ops. He follows orders to the letter and he has a lot of spine. But his instincts are still developing, and his skin's still thin. I just don't want to see him take any more hits over this than he deserves."
    "If he can't stand up to it, better he finds out now. You know that, Dallas."
    "If there's a preexisting, mandatory thirty day can be waived. You know that, Commander, as you know the emotional and mental distress even a by-the-book suspension can bring on. He responded to a call for help. He put himself on the line, without hesitation."
    "He failed to call for backup."
    "Yes, sir, he did. Did you ever fail to call for backup?"
    Whitney's eyebrows lifted. "If I did, I deserved to get kicked for it."
    "I'll kick him."
    "I'll consider the waiver, Lieutenant, once all data and results are in and studied."
    "Thank you, sir."
    ***
    Huddled in his cube, Halloway ran another series of scans on the Cogburn unit. And groused.
    Play a little Crusader on your break, and you get all the shit details dumped on you. Who the hell cared about the data stored on the drive of a dead kiddie dealer's unit? What was Feeney going to do? Tattle on the pint-sized clients to their mommies?
    Four hours, he thought, and popped a blocker for the vicious headache trumpeting inside his skull. Four frigging hours dicking with useless data on a useless second-rate unit all because bigshot Dallas comes begging to bigshot Feeney.
    He sat back, rubbed his blurry eyes.
    He couldn't get past the shield on this Purity transmission. Cogburn hadn't generated the message. That much he'd verified. It had come from outside, but so the fuck what?
    Absolute Purity. Probably some sort of baby lotion.
    His head was killing him. And God, it was hot in here. Damn climate control must've gone out again. Nobody did their jobs anymore. Nobody but him.
    He shoved away from the desk, pushed out of his cube, desperate for water, for air.
    He elbowed other cops out of his way, earned himself some inventive suggestions on self-gratification.
    At the water cooler, he glugged down cup after cup as he tracked the movements of his associates.
    Look at them. Like a bunch of ants in a nest. Somebody ought to do the world a favor and squash some ants.
    "Hey, Halloway." McNab bounced in fresh from a field assignment. "How's it going? Heard you caught a shit detail."
    "Fuck you, asshole."
    Temper rolled over McNab's face, but then he noted Halloway's pallor, and the beads of sweat. "You look a little wasted. Maybe you should take a break."
    Halloway downed more water. "Somebody's gonna get wasted. Get off my case before I show the rest of these dickweeds what a pansy Feeney's pet really is."
    "You got a problem with me?" If so, it was a new one. To that point McNab and