In Death 15 - Purity in Death

for him there as can be done here during the first twenty-four hours."
    "We're past twenty-four," she snapped. "We're over that, and he should have it back." She stopped herself, pulled it back in, and studied Summerset's cadaverous face. "What are his chances? Don't pretty it up. What are his chances of regaining sensation and mobility?"
    "They decrease by the hour now. Rapidly."
    He watched Eve close her eyes, turn away. But before she did, he saw the raw grief. "Lieutenant. McNab is young and he's fit. Those qualities play strongly in his favor. Being allowed to work at this time helps keep his mind active and off his difficulties. That can't be discounted."
    "They'll bounce him on disability, or stick him in a cube doing drone work. He'll never feel like a cop again once that happens. He prances when he walks," she said quietly. "Now he's stuck in that chair. Goddamn it."
    "Arrangements have been made with the clinic in Switzerland. I believe Roarke mentioned this." He waited until she turned around, looked at him again. "They'll take him as early as next week. They have an impressive rate of success in regenerating nerves. He must continue his treatments until-"
    "What's their rate?"
    "Seventy-two percent with injuries similar to McNab's make a full recovery."
    "Seventy-two."
    "It's not impossible he'll recover naturally. In an hour. A day."
    "But his chances of that suck."
    "In a word. I am sorry."
    "Yeah, so am I." She started up.
    "Lieutenant? He's frightened. He's pretending not to be, but he's a very frightened young man."
    "They used to put bullets in you," she murmured. "Little steel missiles that ripped through flesh and bone. I wonder, when it comes down to it, if this is any cleaner."
    She walked up, and into her office to what appeared to be a recreation break. Her team was spread out, lounging, she thought sourly, while each sucked on the beverage of his choice.
    Jamie was feeding Galahad little bits from what seemed to be a sandwich the size of Utah. Perched on the arm of McNab's chair, Peabody filled them in on the details of the media conference.
    "Well, this all looks so nice and cozy," she said. "I bet those terrorists are shaking in their boots."
    "You gotta rest the brain cells and orbs every few hours," Feeney told her.
    She stepped over the feet Roarke had stretched out. He could consider himself lucky, she decided, she didn't give them a good kick. She walked directly to her desk. Sat. "Maybe while you're resting those cells and orbs, someone could take just a moment out of playtime and update me."
    "Missed lunch again, didn't you?" Roarke said mildly.
    "Yes, I did. It had something to do with the woman who'd hanged herself with her own bedsheets, the pesky little details of serial homicides, an annoying little meeting with city officials - some of whom seem to be more interested in media image than those inconvenient dead people - and the hour or so I was ordered to spend feeding those media hounds."
    She bared her teeth in a smile that had Jamie sliding down in his chair. "And how was your day?"
    Roarke rose, took half the sandwich Jamie and the cat had yet to devour and set it in front of her. "Eat."
    Eve shoved it aside. "Report."
    "Now, let's not have any bloodshed." Feeney shook his head. The two of them made him think of a couple of bulls about to ram heads. "We've got some progress for you, which is why we're on break. We built a shield that partially filtered the virus. We think we've nearly isolated the infection on the Cogburn unit. We were able to extrapolate a portion of it. Computer's running an analysis now. Once we've got that, we may be able to simulate the rest of the program without going back into an infected unit."
    "How long?"
    "I can't give you that. It's a program the likes of which I've never seen. Encoded, fail-safed. We're working with the bits and pieces we got out before the sucker self-terminated."
    "You lost the unit?"
    "That baby is fried," Jamie put in. "Didn't just blast the program, it killed the whole machine. Toasted it. But we got some good data. We'd have had enough to be sure of a sim if Roarke had had another minute - even forty-five seconds, but-"
    He trailed off because Eve was getting to her feet. Really slow. Something in the movement made him think of a snake coiling up right before it lashed out with fangs.
    "You operated the Cogburn unit?"
    "I did, yes."
    "You operated an infected unit, using an experimental filter, one that subsequently