In Death 32 - Treachery in Death

squad are female. Which leaves nine. She also has a rotation of uniforms at her disposal, which adds. It’s also possible, even likely, she’s recruited beyond her own squad. We’ll handle the homicide, Webster, but I can only access basic data on her, on her squad, or anyone else who might catch my attention without sending up a flag. I’m going to draw her off with Keener, focus her attention and concern on me, but I don’t want her getting antsy, not right off the jump, thinking that I’m looking at her, specifically, or any of her people for it.”
    “We’ve got ways of digging without flags, but that’s dicey without a nod from my captain.”
    “You’ll have to work around that—and you can’t use your own e-men,” she added. “You’ll have to work with Feeney and McNab.”
    “And you figure everybody will assume I’m hanging around EDD for the coffee and donuts?”
    “There’re more fizzies and PowerBars up there. My place is primary HQ on this. We have a comp lab as well-equipped as EDD’s, and my home office is sufficient for our purposes.”
    “Yeah, I remember your home office.”
    She met his look equably. “Then you won’t have any problem finding it.”
    “This process would move more efficiently with the full resources of IAB.”
    “You’re so sure everyone in or associated with IAB is clean, Webster? Have you ever gone sniffing around Renee before—and because I’m betting from your reaction the answer’s no, can you guarantee she doesn’t have somebody inside looking out for her interests?”
    “Nothing’s guaranteed, but I know the people I’ve worked closely with, and that goes without a shadow for my captain.”
    “I don’t know them. If you share the recording you’ve made of this conversation, and it gets back to Renee or Garnet, you’ve put Peabody’s ass on the line.”
    She waited a beat, and now her voice was coolly matter-of-fact. “I’ll break your arm if you try to walk out of here with the recorder you’ve got on you unless I have your word on this. If you take that broken arm to your captain or anyone else and repeat this conversation, if you do anything to jeopardize my detective, my partner, I’ll bury you. You know I mean it.”
    His gaze locked on hers; he took another pull of water. “Yeah, Dallas, I know you mean it. And I mean this. I don’t put a good cop’s ass on the line.”
    “Then give me your word. I’ll take it and we move from here. Otherwise I tag Whitney right now. He may not have the authority to directly interfere with IAB procedure, but he can sure as hell transfer you to fucking Traffic Control in fucking Queens.”
    He set the water down, leaned forward into her space. “Don’t threaten me, Dallas.”
    She mirrored his move. “Too late.”
    He shoved away from the table, strode to the bar where Crack sat working silently in a notebook. In a moment Webster came back with a mug of coffee Eve knew would kick and burn like hot battery acid.
    “You’ve got my word, not because you worry me, but because, I repeat, I’m no more willing to put a good cop’s ass on the line than you are.”
    “Said ass appreciates it,” Peabody muttered.
    Webster drank some coffee, hissed, and swore. “Christ, this is bad. I need copies of every byte of data you’ve got, will get, hope to get.”
    “You’ll have it.”
    “Every briefing’s on record for IAB files.”
    “No. I can’t agree to that, Webster,” she said before he could argue. “All results, all operational and investigative plans will be written up and recorded, but I’m not having my people have to censor every word or risk a poke from IAB. My contacts and conversations with Renee Oberman, William Garnet, and anybody else I believe is potentially connected will be recorded and copied to you for IAB. I’ll be wired, as will Peabody.”
    “You’re going to get in her face with Keener.”
    “I’m going to crawl up her ass with Keener.”
    “How?”
    Okay, Eve thought, she had him now. Invested, he’d not only assist, but he’d keep her team covered from any internal backlash.
    “I’ve deduced he was her weasel by reading his file—which happens to be true. Plus, my mythical weasel knew him. I know how to handle that end.”
    “And I know how to handle mine. I have to tell my captain something. So . . . I’ve got a possible line on something major, but need some time to suss it out further before involving the Bureau. He’ll press me some, but he