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“I’m surprised he didn’t get through.”
“I’ve a bit more skill than a teenage boy, thanks.”
“Yeah, yeah, and bigger balls, too. I was thinking of that jammer of his. You took the prototype away from him, but I’d’ve bet a month of my piss-poor wages he had another.”
“You mean this?” Roarke pulled it out of his pocket. “I had Summerset toss his room—discreetly. When it wasn’t found there, I assumed—correctly—he had it on him. So I picked his pocket on the way into dinner last night. And slipped him another with a few particular defects.”
“Defects?”
“Gives you a quick, rather unpleasant little jolt when you begin the cloning function. That was small of me, I suppose. But he needed to be put in his place.”
Amused, she clinked her coffee mug to his. “Yeah, all in all, pretty impressive. You want in on this briefing, or do you need some more time to buy Saturn or Venus?”
“I don’t buy planets. They’re just not cost effective.” He rose.
They walked into Eve’s office to see Jamie, Feeney, and Baxter chowing down from a table set up in the middle of the room and loaded with food.
“These eggs”—Baxter swallowed, forked up another bite—“are from chickens. Chickens.”
“Cluck-cluck.” Eve walked over to snag a piece of bacon.
“You fell into gravy with this guy, Dallas. No offense,” Baxter said to Roarke, and shoveled in more eggs.
“None taken.” Amused, he nodded toward the meat platter. “Have you tried the ham? It’s from pig.”
“Oink-oink,” Jamie said, cracking himself up.
“If we’ve finished visiting the farm animals, you’ve got ten minutes to slurp the rest of this up.” Eve polished off the slice of bacon. “And Baxter, if you spread it around Central about me falling into gravy, I’ll see to it that you never have another chicken egg as long as you live.”
She scowled at her wrist unit. “Why aren’t Peabody and McNab in here?” She turned, intending to use the house ’link to roust them. Roarke stopped her with a hand to her shoulder.
“Eve.” He said it quietly, nudging her around until she faced the door.
Her throat snapped closed. Her hand went to Feeney’s shoulder in turn, squeezed hard. They watched McNab walk slowly into the room.
He used a cane. It looked almost stylish somehow—glossy black, silver-tipped. He was sweating. She could see the beads of effort popping out on his face, even as he grinned from ear to ear.
His steps were unsteady, obviously labored. But he was on his feet. Walking.
Peabody was just behind him, struggling not to cry.
Eve felt Feeney’s hand come up, close tight over hers.
“It’s about time you got up off that lazy ass of yours.” His voice was thick, but Feeney was afraid to lift a cup and drink to clear it. His hand was far from steady. “Team’s been carrying you long enough.”
“I thought about trying to pull it off for one more
day.” McNab was out of breath when he reached the table. Still, he reached out with his right hand, closed his fingers over a slice of bacon, lifted it to his mouth. “But I smelled food.”
“You wanted breakfast, you should have come in twenty minutes ago.” Eve waited until he looked at her. “Better eat fast,” she ordered. “We’ve got work.”
“Yes, sir.” He tried to sidestep to a chair, wobbled. Eve caught his elbow, held it until he had his balance again.
“Dallas?”
“Detective.”
“I figure this is the only chance I’ll ever have at this.” He gave her a hard, noisy kiss on the mouth that had Baxter applauding.
