The In Death Collection Books 21-25 - J. D. Robb [73]
Two blocks from home she spotted him in her rearview. It amused her enough to have her use the dash ’link.
“I can spot a tail, pal.”
“I’m always delighted to see yours. Your message didn’t sound urgent, but it did sound intriguing.”
“I’ll fill you in in a few. Just in case, you got a full dish tomorrow?”
“A bit of this, a bit of that. All portions in my endless feast of world domination and turkey hoarding.”
“Kick free for a couple hours?”
“Will it involve sweaty and possibly illegal sex acts?”
“No.”
“In that case, I’ll just have to check my schedule.”
“If the time you put in helps me close this case, you get the sweaty and illegal sex act of your choice.”
“Well, fancy that. As luck would have it, I believe I have a couple hours free tomorrow.”
She laughed, and led the way through the gates toward home.
“I don’t think we’ve ever done this before,” she said when they both stepped out of their vehicles. “Gotten home at the same time.”
“Then let’s do something we rarely do, and take a walk.”
“It’s getting dark.”
“Plenty of light yet,” he disagreed, and slung a friendly arm around her shoulders.
She fell into step with him. “What do you know about Unilab?”
“A multipronged organization, roots in the Urban Wars. Humanitarian prong provides permanent and mobile laboratories for volunteer medical groups. UNICEF, DWB, Peace Corps, and so on. Its medical research prong, with its main base here in New York, is considered one of the top in the country. It also has clinics in urban and rural areas worldwide to provide care for the financially challenged. Your first victim was one of the founders.”
“And with him dead, his cofounder dead, his son dead, Unilab might be interested in an outside source with plenty of moolah.”
“Most are interested in moolah, but why do you suppose the board of directors of Unilab would be interested in mine, particularly.”
“Because it goes along with your brain, your contacts, your savvy. Seems to me if you made interested noises they’d agree to a meet, and a grand tour.”
“More likely to get a warm welcome if there was the carrot of a substantial donation or endowment.”
“If you took that angle, would it look wrong for you to take along your medical expert?”
“No. It would look wrong if I didn’t have an entourage.” As they walked, soft lights winked on at ground level, triggered by motion. He wondered if he should plan any outdoor activities on the grounds for the children. Perhaps he should have some playground equipment installed.
Perhaps he was making himself crazy.
“What are we looking for?” he asked Eve.
“Anything. The place is huge. I’d never get a warrant to go through the whole facility. If I tried they’d get a TRO, tie me up for months. If there’s anything to find it’d be gone if I ever broke that down. If they’re doing illegal gene engineering or manipulation, it’s likely they’re doing the serious work elsewhere. Private property.”
“Like the school.”
“Yeah. Or some underground bunker in Eastern Europe. Or off planet. It’s a great big freaking universe. But it strikes me that Icove, both Icoves, would want somewhere to work close by. The Center’s the likely candidate.”
She gave him a thumbnail progress report as they strolled around the house. Twilight softened and cooled toward dark.
“Perfect children,” Roarke declared. “That’s where you’re headed.”
“I think that’s what drove him. He worked with children in his early career. He had a child. He lost one along with his wife. A female child. He has the ability through surgery not only to rebuild or repair, but to change—improve. Perfect. His close friend and associate is a geneticist, with radical leanings. I bet he learned a lot about gene research and treatment. I bet the good doctors had a lot of intense conversations.”
“Then another child falls into his hands.”
“Yeah. With a connection to Samuels. Funny Wilson and his wife weren’t named guardians—and I have to dig there. But they control her. Adults control children, especially if they isolate them.”
Roarke turned his head, brushed a kiss over her hair. A silent