Seduction in Death

by J. D. Robb

  “You’re in my office. It appears I am cooperating.”

  Annoyed, Eve strode up the steps to the platform. She saw cold fury wash over his face as he was forced to tip his head back. “Peabody. Stills.”

  Though she knew it was small of her, Peabody enjoyed watching her lieutenant screw up the power structure of the room. “Yes, sir.” She passed the photos up.

  Eve laid them on the pristine surface of the desk. “Do you recognize any of these women?”

  “I do not.”

  “Bryna Bankhead, Grace Lutz, Moniqua Cline. Ring any bells?”

  “No.”

  “Funny as their names and faces have been all over the media the last few days.”

  His stare never wavered. “I’ve been off planet, as you know.”

  “Last I heard they had media transmissions on Tarus II.”

  “I don’t have time for gossip and media blathering. Nor for guessing games. Now, Miss Dallas, if you’d tell me what it is you wish to discuss—”

  “Lieutenant Dallas. You were involved in a research project partnered by J. Forrester and Allegany Pharmaceuticals that involved experimentation with certain controlled substances.”

  “Research on sexual dysfunction and infertility. Successful research,” he added, “that resulted in two landmark medications.”

  “The project was aborted due to cost overruns, lawsuits, and rumors of substance abuse and sexual misconduct by project staff.”

  “Your information is flawed. Abuse was never substantiated. The project produced important results and simply ran its course.”

  “Apparently someone’s still experimenting. Two women are dead, another’s in critical condition. They were given fatal doses of the substances commonly known as Whore and Wild Rabbit, in combination. Someone has a substantial supply of both, or the means to create them.”

  “Drugs used to benefit mankind can and will be abused in the wrong hands. It’s not my job to police the masses. It’s yours.”

  “Who on your former research team might have those wrong hands?”

  “All doctors and technicians who were involved were thoroughly screened and hand selected.”

  “And still, there was recreational and criminal use. This isn’t gossip or blathering,” she said before he could interrupt. “This is a murder investigation. Sex and power, that’s a heady temptation.”

  “We were scientists, not sex mongers.”

  “Why are all the records sealed? Why are there seals on all the civil cases brought against the project?”

  “No civil cases were ever brought to trial. No charges of misconduct were ever pressed. Therefore, it’s a matter of privacy to seal records of frivolous suits that impinged upon the names and reputations of those associated with the project. Of maintaining dignity.”

  Eve pushed the photographs closer. “Someone invaded their privacy, Doctor. Big-time. And didn’t leave them with their dignity.”

  “That has nothing to do with me.”

  “The project made a lot of money for its top people and its initial investors. It takes a lot of money to play with these particular illegals. I’m looking for two men, men with the means to buy or create substantial quantities of those illegals. Men with expert knowledge of chemistry and electronics. Men who consider women not only fair game, but disposable entertainment. Sexual predators, Dr. McNamara. Who worked with you, who fits that bill?”

  “I can’t help you. Your problem has nothing to do with the project, nothing to do with me. The project created medication that changed lives. I won’t have you besmirch my work or my reputation because you’re unable to do your job.”

  He shoved the stills back toward Eve. “It’s more likely these women invited, even encouraged the use of the drugs. Any woman who agrees to meet a man she knows only through mail is soliciting a sexual advance.”

  “I guess she solicits them just because she was born with tits.” Eve scooped up the stills. “It sounds like you caught some blathering after all. I never mentioned how these women met their attackers.”

  “Your time’s up.” He pressed a button under the desk and the doors opened. “If you wish to speak with me again, you’ll have to contact my attorneys. If I hear any public mention of my name, this facility, or the project in connection with your investigation, they will be contacting you.”

  She debated hauling him in then and there, then punching her way through the legal uproar. The media would go wild, and the case could potentially be damaged by the exposure. “I always wonder how it is some doctors have such little respect for human life.” She stepped off the platform, handed the stills to Peabody. “We’ll talk again,” she told him and strode out just before the doors clicked shut at her back.

  “He’s a creep,” Peabody said. “A misogynist and a demigod.”

  “And he knows something. I want a low profile on this, so we play it by the book with him. Contact his reps and arrange a formal interview at Central. We’re going to put some pressure on breaking those sealed records. Get yourself back to Central and start the paperwork.”

  “He’ll fight it.”

  “Yeah, but he’ll lose. Eventually. I’m working from home. I’ll pass on data as I get it.”

  Roarke was already there when she arrived, but she left the door between their offices closed. She sat at her desk and began generating a series of reports. She knew enough about politics and demigods to be certain she’d have to cover her ass as far as McNamara was concerned. Men like him didn’t just call lawyers. She had no doubt her commander’s, the chief’s, the mayor’s, even the governor’s ears would be ringing with her name in very short order.

  She could handle the heat, but she didn’t want the fire taken off the case while it was scorching her ass.

  When she was satisfied she transmitted copies to all appropriate parties. Next came the pitch to break sealed files for investigatory use in multiple homicides. It was a tricky business, and even if the request went through, it would take precious days.

  There was a quicker way. She glanced up at the door that joined her workspace with Roarke’s. Quicker, slicker, and virtually undetectable if she gave him the job.

  She’d crossed that line before and would again if she had to. But for now, she’d try the system.

  “Computer.” Absently she rubbed at the back of her neck. “All available data on McNamara, Dr. Theodore, display on wall screen.”

  WORKING . . . DATA DISPLAYED.

  She rose, working the tension out of her shoulders as she read the information. The man was eighty-six, and obviously made good use of his face and body sculptors. His education and work records were impressive. He’d had one marriage, and one child from it—a daughter.

  Eve pursed her lips and speculated.

  When she heard the door behind her open, she spoke without turning. “You’ve got a man who doesn’t particularly like women as a species, considers them inferior. Well, to be fair, considers everyone inferior, but I got a definite vibe women were lowest on his feeding chain. Called me ‘miss,’ ” she grumbled.

  “And lived?” Roarke stepped behind her and began rubbing her shoulders. It passed briefly through her mind that he had some sort of weird psychic ability to hit just the right spot.

  “I’d have knocked him around for it, but he’s almost ninety. Anyway, a guy like this has one kid and that kid turns out to be a female. That’d be a disappointment, wouldn’t it?”

  “I suppose it would, if he’s an asshole.”

  “Yeah, he’s an asshole. So, why didn’t he try again, until he got it right? If the wife was the problem, fertility or otherwise, there are plenty of ways around it. Even forty, fifty years ago, there were ways around it. But maybe he didn’t have enough soldiers to do the job. What a pisser.”

  “Speaking as a man, I can say that finding oneself unable to create a child would be difficult to accept.” He brushed his lips over her hair. “And if a child was desired, I’d do whatever could be done to fix the p
roblem.”

  “Fertility tests . . . they must be really personal, embarrassing. Especially for a guy with a really whopping ego.” She glanced over her shoulder.

  “Are you asking my opinion as you assume I have a really whopping ego?”

  “We could fill Madison Square with your ego, pal. It just runs different than this jerk’s. Maybe it explains why he shifted gears from private practice into research—sexual dysfunction and fertility research. Let’s take a look at the daughter. Computer, standard background run on Dunwood, Sarah. Née McNamara.”

  WORKING . . .

  “To show how good-natured I am,” Roarke began, “I’ll ignore that insult and tell you I’ve just finished my assignment. Transmissions are blocked, and will be diverted to an account I’ve just created for you.”

  “I didn’t ask you to divert them.”

  “Two services for the price of one.” He whipped her around and crushed his mouth to hers. His hands gripped her butt, squeezed, and molded her body against his. “There. That ought to cover it.”

  “Stop trying to cloud my brain. I’m on the clock.”

  DATA ACCESSED . . . DISPLAY OR AUDIO?

  “Display,” Eve said even as Roarke ordered audio.

  CONFLICTING COMMAND. HOLDING . . .

  “Cut it out,” Eve ordered as he tugged her shirt from her waistband. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Apparently not a thing.” But he laughed and let her muscle away. “Display data.”

  “She’s fifty-three,” Eve said. “Followed in Daddy’s footsteps right down the line. Same schools, same training, same hospital residency. And straight into research. One marriage. One child. Carbon copy. Except she got the boy. And look at his DOB. Only a year after the start of the project. She’d already been married eight years. Wouldn’t surprise me if she not only worked on the project, but was part of the study.”

  She blew out a breath. “And what the hell does that have to do with murder? There’s a connect. I know there’s a connect. Her husband was part of the team, too. But he’s too old for these hits. And the son’s too young. What is he twenty-one, twenty-two? He was an infant during the heyday of the project. Still . . . Computer, access all available data, Dunwood, Lucias. Display on wall screen.”

  WORKING . . .

  While his data was being accessed a few blocks away, Lucias strolled into the formal parlor of his townhouse. His grandfather rarely paid personal calls, and certainly never spur-of-the-moment visits.

  If the king dropped by, there was a reason. Speculating on what it might be had Lucias’s palms going damp. He wiped them distractedly on his slacks before he entered the room, smoothed them over his tight red curls, then fixed a pleased and welcoming expression on his face.

  “Grandfather, what a wonderful surprise. I didn’t realize you were back.”

  “I arrived last night. Where is Kevin?”

  “Oh, at his computers, where else? Shall I arrange for drinks? I have a very nice scotch. I think you’ll approve of it.”

  “This isn’t a social call, Lucias. I want to speak with Kevin as well.”

  “Of course.” The sweat that had dampened his palms ran in a thin, nasty line down his back. He gestured casually to the waiting server droid. “Tell Mr. Morano my grandfather’s here and wishes to see him.”

  “Immediately,” McNamara added.

  “Of course. And how was your trip?” Lucias went to the antique cabinet that held the liquor. His grandfather might not want a drink, but he needed one.

  “Productive. A word you’ve become unfamiliar with since you graduated college.”

  “With honors,” Lucias pointed out and poured scotch neat into heavy crystal. “Just taking a sabbatical after years of study. And actually, I’ve been doing some work in my lab. A pet project. You know all about pet projects, after all.”

  McNamara turned away briefly. The boy was a disappointment to him. A severe disappointment. He had helped create him, handpicking the man he’d deemed best suited for his daughter. A man much like himself—intelligent, driven, strong. Ambitious.

  Their inability to conceive a child had been a monumental frustration for him, but had helped him launch the project. The project that had advanced his career, created his grandson. And had very nearly ruined everything.

  Still, he had risen above it. His name had never been marred. And never would be.

  And hadn’t he nurtured the child? Educated him, molded him, given him every opportunity to refine and develop the superior mind he’d been born with?

  Instead, the boy had been spoiled. His mother’s doing, McNamara thought grimly. A woman’s weakness. She’d pampered and coddled him. Had ruined him.

  Now, he was very much afraid that child had put his name, his career, his reputation in the greatest jeopardy.

  “What have you done, Lucias?”

  Lucias downed the scotch, poured more. “I’m not prepared to talk about the experiment, though it’s coming along quite well, I believe. And how is Grandmother?”

  “As ever.” He took the glass Lucias offered, studied his grandson’s face. And saw what he had always seen. A blank wall. “She misses you. It seems you had no time to visit her, or call, while I was away.”

  “Well, I’ve been a busy little bee.” The whiskey helped, considerably. “I’ll be sure to make time for her very soon. Ah, here comes Kevin.”

  He went back to pour a drink for his friend, and yet another for himself.

  “Dr. McNamara, what a delightful surprise.”

  “So I just said myself.” Lucias handed Kevin the glass. “It isn’t often we’re so privileged. That will be all,” he said to the droid, then dropped into a chair. “Now, what shall we talk about?”

  “I want to see your lab,” McNamara demanded.

  “I’m afraid not.” Lucias sipped scotch. “You know how we mad scientists are about our experiments. Hush-hush. Top secret. After all, I learned all about the sacrosanct from you, didn’t I?”

  “You’ve been using illegals again.”

  “No, I haven’t. I learned my lesson. Didn’t I, Kevin? We both learned our lessons well when you had us tucked quietly away in rehab on Delta last year. Hush-hush,” he said again and nearly giggled. “Top secret.”

  “You’re a liar.” McNamara exploded, striding to his grandson, knocking the heavy glass from his hand. “Do you think I can’t recognize the signs? You’re using again. Both of you. Destroying your minds, your futures for a weakness, a temporary indulgence.”

  “That glass was an heirloom.” Lucias’s hands wanted to shake, but with anger as much as the innate fear, the bone-deep loathing his grandfather always brought to him. “You should have more respect for family, Grandfather.”

  “You speak to me of respect? The police came to my office today. They questioned me. I’ve been ordered into Interview tomorrow, and there’s a request being processed to open the sealed files on the project.”

  “Oh-oh.” Lucias’s bright blue eyes twinkled, a mischievous boy caught in a prank, as he looked at Kevin. “Now that would be quite the scandal. What do you think, Kevin, about having all those secrets, the grand passions that conceived us both, revealed?”

  “I think it would be embarrassing, in some quarters.”

  “Yes, indeed. Couples, well, coupling, under the fierce scrutiny of the exalted Dr. Theodore McNamara. No candlelight and music to romanticize the exercise. No indeed. No muss, no fuss. Just a clinical process hyped by sexual enhancement drugs with one purpose. Us.”

  He laughed now and swilled back scotch. “And a rousing success it was.”

  “Medical advancement. Procreation of the species.” McNamara’s voice trembled with rage. “I had assumed, incorrectly it seems, that both of you were mature enough to understand the scope of what you were part of.”

  “But then we weren’t really part of it, were we?” Lucias countered. “We were simply part of the results. I don’t believe we were given a choice in the matter. I don
’t believe a number of the participants were, either. Isn’t that what we discovered, Kev, when we read through the files?”

  “Those files are sealed,” McNamara said.

  “Seals were made to be broken.” Lucias continued. “Just like rules. You broke a number of rules, Grandfather, in the name of science. Why shouldn’t Kevin and I do the same, in the name of . . . entertainment?”

  “What have you done?” McNamara demanded.

  “Nothing to concern you.”

  “It concerns me when I’m ordered into Interview. And it best concern you as well, as questions will be asked about murdered women that lead to you.”

  “To us?” Kevin set down his drink. “But that’s not possible. How could they know—”

  “Shut up.” Lucias sprang to his feet. “What did they say about us? What did you tell them?”

  “I didn’t want to believe it.” McNamara braced a hand on the back of a chair, forced himself to stand when he wanted to sink. “You murdered those women.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Murder? You’ve lost your mind. If you’re in some sort of trouble with the police—” Lucias’s tirade was cut short as McNamara slapped him.

  “You disgust me. All of my hopes for you, my dreams, and look at you. You’re worthless, you and your pathetic friend. All of your talent, wasted, wasted on games, drugs, and your selfish pursuit of pleasure.”

  “You created me.” Tears, hot with humiliation from the slap, stung Lucias’s eyes. “You made me.”

  “I gave you all that was in my power to give. Every advantage. And it was never enough.”

  “You gave me orders! Expectations. I’ve detested you all my life. I live as I choose to live now, and there’s nothing you can do.”

  “You’re right. Quite right. And nothing I will do. I won’t clean up your mess this time. I won’t pay to have you protected, nor will I sacrifice myself to shield you. When they find you, and they will find you, I won’t lift a hand.”

  “You won’t let them take me. I’m all you have.”