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“Maybe we should just toss him to the P.A. Let them sink.”
“Peabody, that’s very harsh.”
“If the two of you think you can run the good cop/bad cop routine on me,” Snyder began.
“Wouldn’t think of it.” Eve grinned fiercely. “And just FYI, I’m the bad cop. I’m always the bad cop.”
“Bitch,” Dukes muttered.
“See, he knows. To respond to the bitch comment,” Eve continued, “let me just say, you ain’t seen nothing yet, Don. We ID’d your brainchild. We duped it, and we tracked it back to the source. Your little workshop unit. Your fingerprints, your voice prints, your personal code. You and nobody else. Didn’t think we could pull it out, did you?”
Now Eve leaned forward. “I’ve got a couple of techs at my disposal that make you look like a first-year hacker.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Infected e-mail transmitted from your unit, by you, to Louis K. Cogburn, eight July 2059, at fourteen hundred hours. Infected e-mail transmitted to Chadwick Fitzhugh, eight July, at twenty-three fourteen.”
With her eyes on his, she recited every transmi
ssion she’d committed to memory. She saw the disbelief wash over his face, then the anger flood it.
She wanted the anger.
“We’ve got you nailed. They knew we’d hang you when we busted this open. You’re not a general, Don. You’re not even a soldier to the ones running this show. You’re the sacrificial lamb.”
“You don’t know squat. You’re nothing but some dried-up female trying to pass for a man.”
“Think so? I’ll show you my balls, Don, you show me yours.”
“I wish to consult with my client,” Snyder interrupted. “Privately. I wish to terminate this interview until I’ve consulted with my client.”
“You terminated them, didn’t you?” Eve demanded.
“We executed them.” Dukes spat it at her, then swiped out an arm, nearly knocking Snyder out of his chair when the lawyer tried to interrupt. “Shut up. Shut the hell up. You’re part of the problem. Just like she is. Enough money and you’d defend Satan. You help put garbage back on the street. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”
“Are you dismissing your legal representation at this time, Mr. Dukes?” Eve asked.
“I insist on consulting with—”
“Fuck you.” Dukes surged to his feet. His chair shot out, slammed into the wall. “Fuck all of you. We did something great. You think I’m afraid to go to prison for it? I served my country. I served my community.”
“How did you serve your community?”
His mouth twisted. “By exterminating cockroaches.”
“Mr. Dukes.” With admirable calm, Snyder rose. “I’ll ask you one more time to afford yourself of your right to remain silent. Lieutenant Dallas will terminate this interview and we’ll go to a consult room to discuss—”
“Get the hell out,” Dukes ordered without looking at him. “You and your cockroach brothers are fired.”
“Let the record show that Snyder and Associates are no longer attorneys of record for Donald Dukes.” Snyder picked up his briefcase, signaled to his two associates. “Lieutenant Dallas.”
“On the door,” she said, and Peabody walked over to open it and let the lawyers out.
“Donald Dukes, did you conspire to murder Louis K. Cogburn?”
His shoulders were back, his head high. And the hate pumped like sweat out of his pores. “You’re damn right, I did.”
“Did you conspire to murder Chadwick Fitzhugh?”
