The In Death Collection Books 26-29 - J.D. Robb [517]
“Okay now we’re even on the sex jokes.”
“It’s only fair. Eve, he could be an independent consultant, a brain trust, a troubleshooter. The field is wide and open. He may not work for any one company.”
“Shit. Shit.” She had to pace. “That would be even better for him, wouldn’t it? Someone who comes in, fixes things, or gives advice, but doesn’t actually do the day-to-day. It’s perfect. Damn it. I’m going to work through it all again, piece by piece. Add in the data you get me, shuffle it with the Columbia data. Then—”
“One thing you haven’t considered,” Roarke interrupted. “He’s young, smart, skilled, and he has no scruples. There are other ways for someone like that to make money, enough to buy a top-flight system and the residence to put it. You steal it.”
“Steal it?”
“In the grand old e-tradition. Hack into accounts, siphon funds off. Keep that mid-level, too—nothing too big. He knows how to use someone else’s ID to get what he wants. Identity theft’s a profitable business if you’re talented.”
She rubbed her hands together as the idea took on weight. “You risk getting caught, but he’s willing to risk. He’s careful and keeps the risk low. Why work, or work very hard, when you can just take. It’s an angle. It’s a good one.”
Her desk ’link signaled even as they walked into her office. She charged for it, scanned the readout quickly. “Yancy, give me something good.”
“I had a second session with each of the wits. I had to give them, and me, a break between, but I know we need to push. I think I’ve got something, or something close. Lola’s more sure than Marta, but—”
“Show me.”
“Hold on. Neither of them saw his eyes, because of the shades. Those and the cap hid part of his face. I’ve projected the most likely, probability eighty-seven and change, for those features. Eyes, eyebrows, forehead. Marta got a glimpse of the forehead, the upper face when he pulled off the cap, but—”
“Show me,” Eve demanded.
“Coming through, on screen and hard copy, projected, and with cap and shades.”
She leaned over her unit, studied the images that popped in split screen. Roarke walked to the printouts sliding out its slot.
Young, she thought. Early to mid-twenties by her cop gauge. Caucasian male, with even, attractive, somewhat feminine features. Small, straight nose, full lips, soft eyes, a bit heavy-lidded. The face was oval, almost classically so, and the hair dark, shaggy, trendy.
She studied the image with it, where the features were obscured by the cap and shades. And nodded.
“You gave me good, Yancy.”
“If you’re confident with it, we can send it out.”
“No media. Team members only for now. He’s going to come to the vic’s memorial, odds are. I don’t want to alert him, scare him off. Get this to the other members, with a lock on it. I’m going to start an image search, see if I can ID the bastard.”
“Good luck.”
“You gave me more than luck. This could make the difference. Send it out, Yancy, and go home.”
“You can count on it.”
When Yancy signed off, Eve considered her options, then contacted Jamie.
“Hey, Dallas.”
“You’re going to have an image coming through,” she said without preamble. “Take it and get over to Columbia. I’m going to set it up for you. I want you to start using their imaging program, see if you can get me a match.”
“It’s him.”
“It’s what we’ve got. This is locked, Jamie. Nobody but you, or McNab if you need him. It doesn’t go to any of your e-pals.”
“I get it. I know. I’ll work it, Dallas.”
“I’ll get you cleared. Work good,” she said, then blew out a breath and once again contacted Peach Lapkoff.
“Well, Lieutenant, we’re getting to be best friends.”
“I apologize for interrupting your evening. We have an image, and I’m sending Jamie over to the university, as an expert consultant, civilian, to work with your imaging program.”
“Now?”
“Now. I need you to clear this, Dr. Lapkoff, and to keep it confidential. I can’t afford a leak.”
“I’ll take care of it personally.”
“You’re making my job easier.”
“My grandfather would expect no less.”
“She’s okay,” Eve mumbled as she broke transmission.