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“While you’re having fun, make goddamn sure none of it—not an inkling of it—leaks to Ricker. I want him closed down. If the warden has a problem, he can contact me. But Ricker is shut down tight until further notice.”
“Total,” Callendar said and signed off.
Eve added the new data, then rose to expand her murder board.
“I’m clear,” Peabody said as she came in. “Unless you want to notify next of kin tonight, we . . .” She trailed off when she noticed the additions to the board. “You got something again.”
“Callendar confirms Omega transmissions. They’re encrypted, but she says she can break that. And she matched the on-planet send-and-receive to the ’link Feeney found. She’s got the tech—” Eve tapped Zeban’s photo. “The guard Ricker’s bribing bribed him to keep them off the log, and to wipe the recording of Ricker’s shower. But she says she can reconstruct.”
“She’s good. McNab says straight up. That’s a lot of bribing.”
“Yes, bribing on a penal colony. I was shocked. It’s a food chain,” Eve muttered. “Ricker at the top. You’ve got Sandy, and Rouche, Zeban, and probably more under that. But there’s the link between Ricker and Sandy. That level. We need to fill that one in to make it all hold.”
She turned around, frowned. “What time is it in France?”
“Um.”
“I don’t know either. I shouldn’t have to know. Roarke would know, but he’s in Vegas. I don’t know what time it is there, either.” She waved her hand before Peabody could inform her. “Find me the head French cop, the one who handles the area where Rouche’s ex lives. I want her watched. I need her communications monitored.”
“You might have better luck with Global.”
“They’re greedy. They’ll want her for their own. Let’s try the locals first.”
It took persuasion, cajolery, and in the end the mention of illegal funds and considerable merchandise purchased with those illegal funds—all housed in France—to ensure cooperation.
The possibility of confiscating a few million was worth the time and effort to sit on one Luanne Debois, and to monitor her communications.
“It’ll take time,” Eve complained as they rode down to the garage. “Proper authorization—meaning bureaucratic crapola—before they can implement the watch. But he got a sparkle in his eyes when I outlined the money laundering, seeing as the result of it’s sitting, primarily, on his turf.”
“You get that, and Callendar comes through, we’ll pin Ricker. Doesn’t pin or even identify his next in command here.”
“Working on it.”
Peabody stopped and narrowed her eyes when Eve stepped up to her vehicle.
“I don’t get it. I just don’t get how come you have to pick something so ugly when you could have anything. Like the 2X-5000, or the big, burly all-terrain, or—”
“I didn’t pick it; Roarke did.”
“You’re shattering all my hopes and dreams.”
“Because he’s smart enough to know it blends. Nobody’ll look twice at it. Do you want a ride home or not?”
“I’m not going home.” Peabody jumped in before Eve. “I’m going back to your place. All my stuff’s there, and that’s where McNab’s coming when he gets back. Plus, brunch.”
Eve felt the warning throb behind her eyes. “They’re not still there. Are they? Why?”
“Because that was the plan, and yes, they are. I checked in.”
“I was going to go by the morgue.”
“Why?”
“Because. We could’ve missed something.”
“I’ll tag the morgue from here while you drive us to a magolishous breakfast buffet.”
Life had to be, Morris had said, or what was the point? At the moment she might wish it would be elsewhere, but she accepted defeat. She could work from home, she told herself. Hide out in her office until the houseload of women finally went away. She could work on pinning down that last link while she waited for Callendar to come through.
