Page 89 of Calculated in Death

“Pretty okay.” Her shoulder didn’t grind, but it did groan a little when she rolled it. A hot shower, she decided, would take care of it.

He circled his finger as he had the night before, and as she had the night before, she rolled her eyes and turned. “More like South America now,” he decided. “An improvement.”

But he didn’t like the sickly yellow bruising across her chest.

“When I find that fucker, he’s going to have a continent on his ass.”

“Go for Asia,” Roarke suggested. “It’s bigger.”

“An Asian ass-kicking. I can do that.”

He thought she’d have to beat him to it, but didn’t mention it.

She angled around to take a look at her butt in the mirror. Better. A lot better. “I dreamed about flying babies. You can’t catch them all.”

“That’s... unfortunate.”

“I’ll say. They’d hit the ground and pow.” She threw her hands up in the air. “All this stuff came gushing out.”

“Really, Eve, you’ll put me off breakfast.”

“Not guts and stuff. It was like little weird toys and shiny candy. Like they were those piñata things people bust up for what’s inside.”

He lowered the tablet to study her. “You have such a busy, fascinating brain.”

“And the vic’s there, too, sitting on one of those benches on the High Line. She keeps saying two and two makes four. Over and over. I mean I get it, numbers don’t lie, numbers add up, but she’s sitting there, chanting that and working on one of those ancient adding things.”

“An abacus?”

“What’s an abacus? Oh, right, one of those—” Standing naked but for the pack on her shoulder, her hair in tufts, she slid her fingers through the air. “No, it was one of those—” Now she tapped her two index fingers in the air, then swiped her hand.

“An adding machine.”

“Yeah. I’m trying to catch all those flying babies and she’s tapping away, muttering basic math. It was distracting. I probably missed a few because she wouldn’t give it a rest. Anyway, weird.”

Weird indeed, he thought as she went into the bathroom, but not a nightmare.

He rose, got a fresh med pack, the wand, programmed coffee. After a brief consideration, he opted for cheese and spinach omelets. Enough cheese and she wouldn’t bitch about the spinach. He thought she could use the protein and the iron.

When she came out, wrapped in a robe, he had the food and the first-aid tools set out. She eyed them both suspiciously.

“What’s in those eggs?”

“Eat them and find out. I’ve been playing with some of the data my auto-search spit out. It’s interesting.”

“What have you got?”

“Eat and find out.”

She sat, but went for the coffee first. “Does two and two make four?”

“I think not in this case. There’s a payment here of just over two hundred thousand to IOC. A search for IOC turns up several companies and organizations including a porn site billed as the Intense Orgasm Companion, which deals in vids, toys, enhancements, real-time vid or VR sex with a licensed companion, contacts to LCs who are affiliated with the site and will make house calls. And so on.”

Sex, she thought, never failed to sell.

“I don’t think Alexander funneled two hundred K out of his company for porn.”

“I tend to agree. I lean toward Investment Opportunity Corporation, a smallish outfit based in Miami, but claiming national coverage. They buy and sell properties—primarily commercial, but also residential. Developed or zoned for development.”