Remember When

long-term, trusted, considered above reproach."
    Eve studied the window displays as she spoke, and the people who stopped to huddle at them, dreaming over that shine. Gold and silver-metals; rubies and emeralds, and diamonds bright as the sun-stones. Since they couldn't be consumed for fuel, didn't keep you warm in the winter, it was tough for her to relate to the pull.
    Yet she wore a circle of gold on her finger and a bright, glittering diamond on a chain under her shirt. Symbols, she thought. Just symbols. But she'd fight for them, wouldn't she?
    "Inside man has to walk out, too," she went on, "practically on their heels, and go straight under.
    Finger's going to point at him, he knows that going in. But he wants what he wants and he tosses everything else away for it. And gets taken out before he can pat himself on the back. Crew did him, so Crew had to know how to get to him. Not only his location, but how to lure him out."
    She looked up, as a tourist might, to the upper floors. No people glides on a building like this.
    There wouldn't have been any early century either, she mused. It had been rehabbed and rebuilt after the wars but was, essentially, the same as the history image she'd studied.
    And leading down from the corner it dominated were shop after shop, display after display of body adornments. This single cross-town block held millions in merchandise. It was a wonder it wasn't hit on a daily basis.
    "They didn't even bother to take out the security cams," she commented. "In and out and no sweat. But the cops would've ID'd them eventually. Every one of them had a sheet but the inside guy, and his gambling problem would've flagged him. So they were just going to stay under, keep the stones tucked away, wait for the air to cool. Then poof. You know why it might've worked?"
    "The investigation would have focused, at least initially, on the inside man. They'd figure he cracked up, planned and executed. He's gone, diamonds are gone. They move on him."
    "Yeah, while the rest of them scatter and wait it out. Crew was smart to eliminate him, but he went off when he didn't dispose of the body. Smarter, much smarter to dump the guy in the river so the cops waste time and resources looking for a dead man. Didn't think it through all the way, because he wanted what he wanted, too. Once he had it, he just wanted more. That's why he ended up dying in prison. This guy, our guy, he's a little smarter."
    She studied a group of three women who stopped by a display window to make ooohing noises and exclamations. Yeah, the stuff was shiny and sparkly. She wasn't entirely sure why people wanted to shine and sparkle, but they did-and had since the dawn.
    "But he's just as obsessed," Peabody commented. "Crew was obsessed with the diamonds, I think.
    That's what I get from the book. He had to have all of them. He couldn't settle for his cut, no matter what it took. I think this guy's the same in that area. Obsessed. Even possessed, in a way.
    Like they were-the diamonds-cursed."
    "They're carbon-based stones, Peabody. Inanimate objects." Unconsciously she rubbed a finger over the tear-shaped diamond she wore on a chain under her shirt. "They don't do anything but sit there."
    Peabody looked back in the window. "Shiny," she said again with her eyes unfocused and her jaw slack.
    Despite herself, Eve laughed. "Let's get out of this heat and go see Gannon."

24
    The Rembrandt, Eve discovered, was one of those small, exclusive, European-style hotels snuggled into New York almost like a secret. No sky-reaching towers or mile-wide lobby, no gilt-encased entrance. Instead it was a lovely old building she assumed had once been a high-dollar residence in a style that murmured elegant discretion.
    Rather than her usual snarling match with a doorman, this one trotted over in his sedate navy blue uniform and cap to greet her with a respectful nod.
    "Welcome to the Rembrandt. Will you be checking in, madam?"
    "No." She flashed her badge, but his polite manner took some of the fun out of it. "I'm here to see a guest."
    "Shall I arrange parking for you during your visit?"
    "No, you should leave this vehicle exactly where I've put it."
    "Of course," he said without a wince or a gasp, and sucked the rest of the wind from her sails.
    "Enjoy your visit at the Rembrandt, Lieutenant. My name's Malcolm if you need any assistance while you're here."
    "Yeah. Well. Thanks." His manner took her off-guard enough to have her break her own firm policy.