The in Death Collection Books 11-15 - J. D. Robb [615]
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—”
“Is determined to be, unless I can bribe him into one of my R and D divisions permanently with great gobs of money.” His lips twitched. “Which I’ll certainly attempt. At the moment, he plans to ditch any thought of college and leap straight into the Academy when he hits eighteen next year.”
“So what. You’re hoping to use this assignment to turn him off that idea, into college so you can scoop his genius brain up for your own uses?”
He smiled slowly, and with great charm. “That’s a lovely thought. But actually, I thought this would be a valuable experience for him. And we need him. I’m not blowing smoke when I say that. What you need electronically is going to take considerable work and research and experimentation, all of which you required in a compressed time frame. Correct?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Look. I’m your expert consultant for a rather pathetic monetary wage, and under that agreement I have the option of selecting a technical assistant. He’s mine.”
She blew out a breath, paced to the window. Paced back. “Not just yours. It makes him mine, too. I don’t know how to deal with a teenaged type person.”
“Ah, well, I’d say you’d deal with him as you