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“Maybe I forgot.”

“Maybe you thought I wouldn’t notice. But that’s okay, we’ll have her give us both the works when I get back.”

“Don’t threaten me, pal.”

“You’ll cave.” Mavis twirled a silver curl around her finger, then grinned. “Hey, Peabody!”

“Hi, Mavis.” Peabody stepped closer. “Great hologram.”

“Roarke has the best toys. Whoops, gotta go. Leonardo says it’s time to get ready. Watch this.” She twirled, blowing kisses, then winked away.

“How does she move like that on those heels?” Peabody wondered.

“Just one of the many Mavis mysteries. What have you got on the van?”

“Pretty sure I tagged it. Black Airstream, 2058 model, loaded.” She offered Eve a hard copy data printout. “Registered to Cassandra Unlimited.”

“Bull’s-eye.”

“But I checked the address. It’s bogus.”

“Regardless, it ties Fixer in and gives us a target. Did you do a search on Cassandra Unlimited?”

“Not yet. I wanted to give you this first.”

“All right. Let’s just see.” Eve swiveled back. “Computer, search and report all data on Cassandra Unlimited.”

Working . . . . No data in banks on Cassandra Unlimited.

“Yeah,” Eve murmured. “That would’ve been too easy.” She sat back a moment, closing her eyes as she considered. “Okay, try this, search and list all companies and businesses with Cassandra in the title. Keep it to New York and New Jersey.”

Working . . . .

“You think they’d use the name?” Peabody asked her.

“I think they’re smart, but they’re cocky. There’s a way to run it down. There’s always a way.”

Data complete. List as follows . . . . Cassandra’s House of Beauty, Brooklyn, New York. Cassandra’s Chocolate Delights, Trenton, New Jersey. Cassandra Electronics, New York, New York.

“Stop. All data on Cassandra Electronics.”

Working . . . . Cassandra Electronics, 10092 Houston, established 2049, no financial or employee data in banks. A branch of Mount Olympus Enterprises. No available data. Encoded block illegal under federal law and will be reported automatically to CompuGuard.

“Yeah, you do that. The data’s there. It’ll be there somewhere. Verify address on Houston.”

Working . . . . Address is invalid. No such address exists.

Eve rose, circled the room. “But they put it in. Why bother to register the companies, risk an automatic search by CompuGuard, an IRS probe?”

Peabody took the opportunity to program more coffee. “Because they’re cocky?”

“That’s just exactly right. They don’t know the van was spotted and tagged, but they had to know I’d do a run on the name Cassandra and click into it.”

She took the coffee Peabody offered absently. “They want me to waste my time on it. If they can get an illegal into the data system, they’ve got funds and superior equipment. They aren’t worried about CompuGuard.”

“Everybody’s worried about CompuGuard,” Peabody disagreed. “You can’t get by them.”

Eve sipped her coffee and thought of Roarke’s private room, his unregistered equipment, and his talent for skimming smoothly by CompuGuard’s all-seeing eye. “They did,” was all she said. “We’ll dump this on EDD.” Officially, Eve thought. Unofficially, she would ask her clever husband what he could do. “For now we’ll just wait.”

She turned back to the machine, called up the four companies that manufactured politex. Roarke Industries, she noted, Branson Toys and Tools, Eurotell Corporation, and Aries Manufacturing.

“Peabody, any of these named for those god people?”

“God people? Oh, I get it. Aries. I think he’s a god of something or other, and I know he’s a sign of the Zodiac.”

“Greek?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s see if they follow pattern.” She ordered the data search and found Aries listed at an invalid address and attached to Mount Olympus.

“They’re certainly tidy.” Eve stepped back, leaned against the counter. “If they have a pattern, we can start predicting. Like Cassandra,” she said with a cool smile.

She sent Peabody off to transfer the data and start an updated report. Then, switching to privacy mode, she called Roarke’s office.

“I need to speak with