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d left for landing on the heliport of the adjoining hospital facilities.
She saw a half dozen medical personnel waiting for the transport, and imagined the noise was horrendous. But inside the breezeway the air was silent, cool, and faintly floral.
It appeared Dr. McNamara had disconnected himself from the petty pains and troubles of those his facility served.
The breezeway opened into the office area done in stark white. Walls, rugs, consoles, chairs, even the uniforms of the drones who went silently about their business were unrelieved white.
It was, Eve thought, like walking inside an eggshell.
They passed through a set of glass doors that whisked open silently at their approach, and moved down yet another corridor. At the end loomed a set of glossy white doors. The woman knocked with a kind of fearful reverence.
The doors slid apart, but the woman stood where she was. “Lieutenant Dallas and aide, Dr. McNamara.”
“Yes, yes. See that we’re not disturbed. Ten minutes. Come in, Lieutenant. My time is very valuable.”
He sat in front of a wall of glass at a desk so massive and white it resembled an ice floe. It stood on a platform three steps above the rest of the office so that McNamara peered down, an eagle on his perch, at lesser mortals.
His hair was white—a sleek, close-cut cap that hugged his skull. He had a long, hollowed face dominated by dark, impatient eyes that scowled beneath the white peaks of his brows. His black suit was a slash of power against the frigid white of the room.
“Golly,” Peabody said under her breath, “it’s the great and powerful Oz.”
“State your business,” he demanded. “I’m a busy man.”
And one who liked to intimidate, Eve mused. They were not invited to sit, but even standing she was forced to look up to meet his gaze.
“You’d have saved us both time if you’d returned the transmissions I sent to you on Tarus II.”
“The consult session was my priority. I am not attached as a medical consultant to the NYPSD.”
“Which makes you a civilian, and gives me the authority to continue this interview at Cop Central, which I will enforce if necessary. Now, we can continue this pissing contest or you can agree to cooperate.”
“You’re in my office. It appears I am cooperating.”
Annoyed, Eve strode up the steps to the platform. She saw cold fury wash over his face as he was forced to tip his head back. “Peabody. Stills.”
Though she knew it was small of her, Peabody enjoyed watching her lieutenant screw up the power structure of the room. “Yes, sir.” She passed the photos up.
Eve laid them on the pristine surface of the desk. “Do you recognize any of these women?”
“I do not.”
“Bryna Bankhead, Grace Lutz, Moniqua Cline. Ring any bells?”
“No.”
“Funny as their names and faces have been all over the media the last few days.”
His stare never wavered. “I’ve been off planet, as you know.”
“Last I heard they had media transmissions on Tarus II.”
“I don’t have time for gossip and media blathering. Nor for guessing games. Now, Miss Dallas, if you’d tell me what it is you wish to discuss—”
“Lieutenant Dallas. You were involved in a research project partnered by J. Forrester and Allegany Pharmaceuticals that involved experimentation with certain controlled substances.”
“Research on sexual dysfunction and infertility. Successful research,” he added, “that resulted in two landmark medications.”
“The project was aborted due to cost overruns, lawsuits, and rumors of substance abuse and sexual misconduct by project staff.”
