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“I’ll fetch it and leave you two to discuss your work.”
“Dallas, this is . . . ultra.”
“It’s just Roarke,” Eve muttered into her coffee.
“Yeah, like I said. Ultra.”
Eve glanced up as he came in with more coffee. Dark and gorgeous and just a bit wicked, she thought. Yeah, she supposed, ultra was the word all right. “Well, strap in, Peabody, and enjoy the ride.”
The takeoff was smooth, and the trip was short, providing Peabody with just enough time to fill Eve in on the details. They were to report to the office of the Chief of Security for Government Employees. All data would be viewed in house, and nothing could be transferred or transported.
“Fucking politics,” Eve complained as they jumped into a cab. “Who are they protecting, for Christ’s sake? The man’s dead.”
“Standard CYA procedure. And there are always plenty of asses to cover in East Washington.”
“Fat asses.” Eve eyed Peabody consideringly. “Been to East Washington before?”
“Once, when I was a kid.” Peabody moved her shoulders. “With my family. The Free-Agers staged a silent protest against artificial insemination of cattle.”
Eve didn’t bother to muffle a snort. “You’re full of surprises, Peabody. Since you haven’t been here in a while, you may want to take in the scenery. Check out the memorials.” She gestured as they whizzed by the Lincoln Memorial and its throng of tourists and street hawkers.
“I’ve seen plenty of videos,” Peabody began, but Eve lifted her brows.
“Check out the scenery, Peabody. Consider it an order.”
“Sir.” With what on another face might have been considered a pout, Peabody turned her head.
Eve nipped a card recorder out of her bag and tucked it under her shirt. She doubted security was so tight it would involve X rays or a strip search. And if it did, she’d simply claim she always carried her spare on her person. Eve flipped a glance at the driver, but the droid had her eyes bland and on the road.
“Not a bad town for sightseeing,” Eve commented as they veered onto the vehicle bypass of the White House where the old mansion could just be seen through reinforced gates and steel bunkers.
Peabody swiveled her head, looked dead into Eve’s eyes. “You can trust me, Lieutenant. I thought you knew that.”
“It’s not a matter of trust.” Because she heard the hurt in Peabody’s voice, Eve spoke gently. “It’s a matter of not being willing to put anyone’s ass but my own in a sling.”
“If we’re partners—”
“We’re not partners.” Eve inclined her head, and there was authority in her tone now. “Yet. You’re my aide, and you’re in training. As your superior, I decide how far your butt sticks out in the wind.”
“Yes, sir,” Peabody said stiffly and made Eve sigh.
“Don’t get your briefs in a twist, Peabody. There’ll come a time when I’ll let you take your lumps with the commander. And believe me, he’s got a hell of a punch.”
The cab pulled over to the curb outside the gates of the Security Building. Eve shoved credits through the safety slot, climbed out, and approached the view screen. She placed her palm on the plate, slipped her badge into the identification slot, and waited for Peabody to mirror the procedure.
“Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and aide, appointment with Chief Dudley.”
“One moment for verification. Authorization confirmed. Please place all weapons in holding bin. Warning. It is a federal offense to bring any weapons into the facility. Any individual entering with a weapon in his or her possession will be detained.”
Eve slipped her police issue out of her holster, then, with some regret, bent down to take her clinch piece out of her boot. At Peabody’s bland look, she shrugged. “I started carrying a spare after my experience with Casto. A clinch piece might have saved me some grief.”
“Yeah.” Peabody dumped her standard-issue stunner in the bin. “I wish you’d blasted the son of a bitch.”
Eve opened her mouth, closed it again. Peabody had been careful not to mention the Illegals detective who’d charmed her, bedded her, and used her while he’d killed for profit.
“Look,” Eve said after a moment. “I’m sorry about the way things went down there. If you want to vent about it sometime—”
“I’m not much of a venter.” Peabody cleared her throat. “Thanks, anyway.”
