In Death 06 - Vengeance in Death

jacket. "I'm clocking out -- on time for a change. Any hot plans for the weekend, Peabody?"
    "My usual, flicking off men like flies, breaking hearts, crushing souls."
    Eve shot a quick grin at her aide's sober face. The sturdy Peabody, she thought -- a cop from the crown of her dark bowl-cut hair to her shiny regulation shoes. "You're such a wild woman, Peabody. I don't know how you keep up the pace."
    "Yeah, that's me, queen of the party girls." With a dry smile, Peabody reached for the door just as Eve's tele-link beeped. Both of them scowled at the unit. "Thirty seconds and we'd have been on the skywalk down."
    "Probably just Roarke calling to remind me we've got this dinner party deal tonight." Eve flicked the unit on. "Homicide, Dallas."
    The screen swam with colors, dark, ugly, clashing colors. Music, low octave, slow paced, crept out of the speaker. Automatically, Eve tapped the command for trace, watched the Unable to Comply message scroll across the bottom of the screen.
    Peabody whipped out her porta-link, stepping aside to contact Central Control as the caller spoke.
    "You're supposed to be the best the city has to offer, Lieutenant Dallas. Just how good are you?"
    "Unidentified contact and/or jammed transmissions to police officers are illegal. I'm obliged to caution you that this transmission is being traced through CompuGuard, and it's being recorded."
    "I'm aware of that. Since I've just committed what worldly society would consider first-degree murder, I'm not overly concerned about minor nuisances like electronic violations. I've been blessed by the Lord."
    "Oh yeah?" Terrific, she thought, just what she needed.
    "I have been called on to do His work, and have washed myself in the blood of His enemy."
    "Does He have a lot of them? I mean, you'd think He'd just, what, smite them down Himself instead of enlisting you to do the dirty work."
    There was a pause, a long one, in which only the dirge played through. "I have to expect you to be flippant." The voice was harder now, and edgier. Temper barely suppressed. "As one of the godless, how could you understand divine retribution? I'll put this on your level. A riddle. Do you enjoy riddles, Lieutenant Dallas?''
    "No." She slid her gaze toward Peabody, got a quick, frustrated head shake. "But I bet you do."
    "They relax the mind and soothe the spirit. The name of this little riddle is Revenge. You'll find the first son of the old sod in the lap of luxury, atop his silver tower where the river runs dark below and water falls from a great height. He begged for his life, and then for his death. Never repenting his great sin, he is already damned."
    "Why did you kill him?"
    "Because this is the task I was born for,"
    "God told you that you were born to kill?" Eve pushed for trace again, fought with frustration. "How'd He let you know? Did He call you up on your 'link, send a fax? Maybe He met you in a bar?"
    "You won't doubt me." The sound of breathing grew louder, strained, shaky. "You think because you're a woman in a position of authority that I'm less? You won't doubt me for much longer. I contacted you, Lieutenant. Remember this is in my charge. Woman may guide and comfort man, but man was created to protect, defend, to avenge."
    "God tell you that too? I guess that proves He's a man after all. Mostly ego."
    "You'll tremble before Him, before me."
    "Yeah, right." Hoping his video was clear, Eve examined her nails. "I'm already shaking."
    "My work is holy. It is terrible and divine. From Proverbs, Lieutenant, twenty-eight seventeen: 'If a man is burdened with the blood of another, let him be a fugitive until death; let no one help him.' This one's days as a fugitive are done -- and no one helped him."
    "If you killed him, what does that make you?"
    "The wrath of God. You have twenty-four hours to prove you're worthy. Don't disappoint me."
    "I won't disappoint you, asshole," Eve muttered as the transmission ended. "Anything, Peabody?"
    "Nothing. He jammed the tracers good and proper. They can't give us so much as on or off planet."
    "He's on planet," she muttered and sat. "He wants to be close enough to watch."
    "Could be a crank."
    "I don't think so. A fanatic, but not a crank. Computer, run buildings, residential and commercial with the word luxury, in New York City, with view of the East River or the Hudson." She tapped her fingers. "I hate puzzle games."
    "I kind of like them." Brows knit, Peabody leaned over Eve's shoulder as the computer went to