In Death 21 - Origin in Death

wouldn't have dented it. Eve felt immediate kinship. "And you saw, you saw, she started beating on my ride. And she shoved me first. You saw."
    "Yeah, yeah, yeah."
    "She clocked you good. You're coming up a bruise there. Damn tourists. Hey, you kids, button it. Your old lady's fine. Slam the lie down, now!"
    The screams subsided to wet whimpers.
    "Nice job," Eve commented.
    "Got two of my own." The cabbie rubbed her bruised ass, shrugged "You just gotta know how to handle them."
    They stood a moment, studying the now moaning woman, as the hysteria of horns and voices raged around them. Two uniforms hotfooted it through people, through vehicles. Eve held up her badge.
    "Fender bump. Cab against rental. No visible vehicular damage."
    "What's with her?" one of the uniforms asked, nodding toward the woman who attempted to sit up.
    "Got herself worked up, took a swing at me, passed out."
    "You want we should take her in for assaulting an officer?"
    "Hell, no. Just haul her up, load her in, and get her the hell out of here. She makes any noises about the bump, or pressing charges, then you tell her she pushes it, she's going to spend Thanksgiving in a cage. Assault with a damn purse."
    She crouched down, shoved her badge in the woman's face again. "You hear any of that? You take any of that in? Do us all a favor. Get in that heap you rented and keep driving." Eve rose. "Welcome to gee-forsaken New York."
    She glanced at the cabbie. "You sustain any injuries in the fall?"
    "Shit, ain't the first time my ass hit the street. She lets it go, I let it g: I got better things to do."
    "Good. Officers, it's your party now."
    She got back in her car, checked her face in the mirror as she waiter out the next red. The bruise was blooming from the tip of her nose right up her cheekbone to the corner of her eye.
    People were a hazard to the damn human race.
    Though her face throbbed, she swung by the Icove residence. She wanted another shot at Avril.
    One of the police droids opened the door after verifying her ID.
    "Where are they?"
    "Two are on the second level with the minors and my counterpart. One is in the kitchen. They've made no attempt to leave, and have made no outside contact."
    "Stand by," she ordered, and walked through the house to the kitchen.
    Avril was at the stove pulling a tray of cookies out of the oven. She was dressed casually in a blue sweater and black pants, and her hair was pulled back in a shining tail.
    "Ms. Icove."
    "Oh, you startled us." She set the tray down on the stovetop. "We enjoy baking on occasion, and the children love when we have fresh cookies."
    "There's only one of you in here, so why don't you drop the trio bit? Why didn't you tell me about the surgeries, the subliminal control programs performed on minors routinely at Brookhollow?"
    "They're all part of the process, the training. We assumed you already knew." She began to move the cookies from baking tray to cooling rack. "Is this an official, recorded interview?"
    "No. No record. I'm off duty."
    Avril turned fully, and concern moved into her eyes. "Your face is bruised."
    Eve poked a tongue at the inside of her cheek, relieved she didn't taste blood. "It's a jungle out there."
    "I'll get the med kit."
    "Don't worry about it. When's Deena due to contact you, Avril?"
    "We thought she would by now. We're starting to worry. Lieutenant, she's our sister. That relationship is as true for us as if we were blood. We don't want anything to happen to her because of something we did."
    "What about something you didn't do? Like telling me where to find her?"
    "We can't, unless she tells us."
    "Is she working with the others? The others who got away?" Avril carefully removed her apron. "There are some who formed an underground. There are some who simply wanted to disappear, to live a normal life. Deena's had help, but what she's done-what we've done," she corrected, "is what she, and you, I imagine, would call un-sanctioned. Deena felt something had to be done, now. Something strong and permanent. We felt, because of what we'd learned about our children, that she was right."
    "By this time tomorrow, Quiet Birth will be all over the media. You want it stopped? Public outrage is going to go a long way to making sure it is. Help me clean up the rest of it. Where are the nurseries, Avril?"
    "What will happen to the children, the babies, the yet born?" "I don't know. But I suspect there'll be a lot of loud voices calling for their rights, their protection.