In Death 20 - Survivor in Death

isn’t my business. Or the department’s. You want to do something useful,” Eve told Webster. “Go file your report. Get them off my back for the next forty-eight.”
    “I can do that. Give the detective her orders. I’ve gone suddenly and strangely deaf.”
    “Shoot this to your desk unit and get down to Central.”
    “Do you want to move on these buildings?”
    “Tomorrow. Try for at least six hours’ downtime. We’re going to put this in place tomorrow. We move this team back to Central, avoid inquiries from IAB about what the hell we’re doing here. Get a conference room booked for seven hundred tomorrow. Tell the rest of the team to do the same or work from home.”
    She could see it, and in her head was already outlining strategy.
    “Start looking for other properties under that name or similar ones. Under any of the tenants’ names who lived in the building near the hospital. I want their base. We get their base, we change this op around, and that’s where we move on them.”
    “Will you work from here?”
    “I’ll be pursuing the same data. I want your unit talking to mine. Something breaks, I’ll come downtown. Got all that?”
    “Got it.”
    “Then get all these cops out of my house.”
    “Dallas.” Webster stopped her as she turned to the door. “Nobody’s business what I do on my own time, either. If I happened to get copies of this data Detective Peabody’s finessed, I could entertain myself by seeing if I could beat her, or you, to the rest.”
    “Peabody, have you got any problem having a race with an IAB suit?”
    “I thrive on competition.”
    “There you go. Beat his ass.”
    Better yet, she thought as she walked out. She’d get Roarke to work unraveling. And she’d work with him, and they’d ring the goddamn bell. There had to be enough civilians in the damn house to ride the controls on a couple of kids while she worked.
    She swung by the computer lab, and the lounge where Baxter and Trueheart were set up to relay the data. “Check out the owners before the buy,” she ordered. “See if there’s a connect--military, paramilitary-- siblings, spouses, offspring in same. Get current status. Let’s see if we can squeeze out a weasel. But do it from home. You’re officially off the clock.”
    She veered off to start downstairs, and Summerset intercepted.
    “Lieutenant, your guests require some of your attention.”
    “Cram the etiquette lesson. Tell Roarke I’m working in his office and I require some of his attention. Now.”
    Pleased to save time, and to have been able to tell Summerset to cram anything, she backtracked and sat at Roarke’s desk.
    “Engage computer.”
    One moment, please, to verify authorization by voice scan. Verified, Darling Eve. Engaged.
    “Christ, what if somebody hears that? Don’t you know there are cops in the damn woodwork around here? Search all data, Triangle Group.”
    Searching . . . Triangle Group, licensed real estate brokerage company, subsidiary of Five-By Corporation.
    “Location or locations of Triangle Group’s offices or company headquarters.”
    Working ... Triangle Group is listed as an electronic company with base office 1700 Pennsylvania Avenue, East Washington.
    “Display map, East Washington. Highlight given address.”
    Map displayed. Highlighted location is The White House.
    “Yeah, even I knew that. Little power trip. Search data on Five-By Corporation.”
    She leaned back as the computer fed her data, then glanced over as Roarke came in.
    “You needed something?”
    “Kirkendall acquired real estate near two of the targets. Prime stuff, good investment. Looks like he kept them. Using a couple of blinds, or a couple we’ve got so far. Triangle Group out of Five-By Corporation.”
    “Triangle.” He moved toward her, brushed her out of his chair. “Logical. Five-By? Is that an indication there are two more prime players in this?”
    “Five-by-five.”
    “Is twenty-five?”
    “No, not math. Military term.”
    “You’ve got one on me.”
    “It’s like loud and clear. Like I hear you fine. Everything’s solid. Like that.”
    “Ah.” He looked over what she’d already done. “The White House. Don’t we think a lot of ourselves? And the parent organization is ostensibly housed in the Pentagon and the UN, and I believe this is Buckingham Palace. However grand their delusions, they don’t make much of a blip in the business world. I’ve never heard of either company. Let’s just see what we