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“The department’s issued statements. You’ll both need to read them.” Eve walked to her desk, gave herself time to settle. “They won’t preclude or censor anything you feel you want to say, but they’d like you to get in the bullet points, and some of the language. It’s important NYPSD show unity in this regard. Nadine can do the interviews here.”
She turned back. “Now maybe we can get down to the business of cop work. We need to determine the nature of the virus in the units, and that can’t be done until we have some sort of shield against that virus.”
“I’ve done a bit of work on that,” Roarke told her. “And taken the liberty of calling in a technical adviser.” He turned to the ’link. “Summerset, send him up.”
“You should’ve cleared this with me,” Eve began.
“You need specific skills for this. Feeney and McNab need more than me. And I need more than an assistant. I’ve someone who’s been doing some very innovative work with my R and D departments, and I don’t think you’ll find anything to worry about regarding his loyalty or his clearance.”
Eve looked at the doorway. And her jaw dropped. “Well, for Christ’s sake, Roarke, I can’t use a kid for this.”
Chapter 8
“Genius has no age.”
So said Jamie Lingstrom as he strutted into her office on a pair of dilapidated airboots.
He wore his sandy hair short and spiked on top with a longer hank in the front that flopped over his forehead. The only piercing—apparently—was to accommodate the tiny silver hoop at the tail of his left eyebrow. His face had done some fining down since the last time she’d seen him, and right now his mouth was twisted into a smirk.
He’d always been cocky.
His grandfather had been a cop, who’d gone down while unofficially investigating a cult. The cult had killed Jamie’s sister and had come uncomfortably close to sacrificing Eve.
He’d sprouted up at least two inches. When did kids stop growing? she wondered. He was sixteen—no, likely seventeen by now. And he should have been doing whatever teenagers did rather than standing in her office with that cocky expression.
“Why aren’t you in school?”
“I do the home thing mostly, on work program. You get to do hands-on-the-job crap as long as it’s with a business that contracts through the school and shit.”
Eve turned to Roarke. “One of yours.”
“Actually, I have several companies that contract with the education program. The youth of today, after all, is the hope of tomorrow.”
“So.” Jamie scanned the room then dipped his thumbs into the front pockets of baggy jeans with holes at both knees. “When do we get started?”
“You.” Eve jabbed a finger at Roarke. “There.” Pointing at his office, she strode in ahead of him, slammed the door smartly.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Bringing in an expert assistant.”
“He’s a kid.”
“He’s a brilliant kid. You do recall how he managed to bypass the security here with a homemade jammer?”
“So he got lucky.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it.” That particular homemade had been refined, adjusted, expanded. “He has more than a knowledge of electronics—though he has that in spades, I can promise you. He has a feel, an instinct that’s very rare.”
“I’d like to keep his brain inside his head, at least until he turns twenty-one.”
“I’ve no intention of allowing him to do anything that puts him in physical jeopardy.”
“Neither of us intended that last fall, either, but he came damn close. And he’s, well, he’s like Feeney’s family.”
“Exactly. It’ll give Feeney a lift to work with him. The fact is, Eve, we need someone like him. Someone with an open mind and a quick brain. He won’t automatically think a thing can’t be done because it’s not been done before.” Roarke spread his hands. “He’ll see possibilities. He wants to be a cop,” he added before Eve could speak.
“Yeah, I remember, but—”
