In Death 32 - Treachery in Death

face. “Second, that was a lovely plan you had, and I’d have enjoyed it, very much. And now, I am partially sorry.”
    She touched his wrist. “If we put those together, it would be one all-the-way sorry.”
    “It would, and that’s a deal.”
    She kissed him to seal it, then stood for a moment, snug in his arms. “It’s a good deal,” she decided. “Now let’s go find a dead junkie.”

4
    EVE GOT BEHIND THE WHEEL SO ROARKE COULD do more research with his PPC.
    “Let me ask you this,” he began. “How many dealings have you had with Lieutenant Oberman?”
    “None, really. I know of her, but we haven’t had any cases cross so I’ve never worked with her. Illegals has its own unique setup. There’s a lot of undercover work, some of it deep, some of it rotating. You’ve got squads who focus entirely on the big game—import/export, organized crime. Others stick primarily to street deals, others manufacturing and distribution. Like that.”
    “There has to be overlap.”
    “Yeah, and each squad is set up sort of like—what do they call it—a fiefdom?”
    “I see, with its own culture and hierarchy.”
    “Like that,” she agreed. “Uniforms and detectives reporting to a lieutenant heading that squad, with those lieutenants reporting to a smaller group of captains.”
    “Which means a lot of politics,” Roarke surmised. “And when you have politics, you have corruption.”
    “Possibly. Probably,” she corrected. “There are checks and balances, there’s a chain of command. Screening—regular screening not only for burnout but for use and addiction. A lot of the undercovers burn out, get made, or get a little too fond of the merchandise.”
    “And would have fairly easy access to the merchandise,” Roarke concluded.
    It rubbed her wrong, not the statement but that he seemed to expect and accept cops on the take. She knew it happened. But she didn’t, wouldn’t accept it.
    “Cops have access to a lot of things. Stolen merchandise, confiscated funds, weapons. Cops who can’t resist temptation don’t belong on the force.”
    “I’d argue there’s a gray area, but once you step into the gray, it’s a short trip to the black. Still, easy access,” he repeated. “A cop busts a street dealer, pockets half the stash. The dealer’s not going to argue about how much weight he was carrying.”
    “That’s what the lieutenant’s for. To know her men, to supervise, assess. It’s her job—her duty—to stay on top of it. Instead she’s orchestrating it.”
    “She’s betrayed her men, from your view, as well as her badge, the department.”
    “In my view, she’s a treacherous bitch.” Eve shrugged it off, but it burned in her belly. “As for confiscated product, there’s an accounting division attached to Illegals that’s supposed to keep track of it, paraphernalia, payloads—as it comes in, as it’s used in trial, as it is subsequently destroyed. They have their own Property Room to handle it.”
    “And a clever, ambitious woman like Renee could recruit someone from that accounting division to help her skim. Using that, her own squad, her father’s connections, to pluck the department’s pockets. Resell product listed as destroyed.”
    “It’s one way. Another would be to deal directly with suppliers, manufacturers, even street dealers—negotiate a fee to keep their business running smooth.
    “Have to pick and choose,” Eve considered. “You’re not going to make rank, even with a daddy boost, if you don’t close cases, don’t lock up some bad guys. She has to keep her percentages up—arrests that lead to conviction.”
    She braked at a light. “How would you work it?”
    “Well now, I’m not as schooled in the running of a division or squad as you.”
    “You run half the industrialized world.”
    “Ah, if only. But be that as it may, if I were looking for long-term profit—not the quick grab, but to establish a steady profit-making business in this area, I’d take a bit from each level. Street deals—that’s quick and easy, and with the right pressure and incentives you could establish enough loyalty and fees in the low-level runners to finance and establish the next level. Runners get their junk from somewhere else unless they’re self-reliant. And even most of those have to work within the system—fight for their turf or pay a fee to whoever runs the turf.”
    “You’d need soldiers to go out, establish that loyalty and fear. Negotiators to move