In Death 08 - Conspiracy in Death

line, desperate for what I can give them.
    And pay whatever is asked.
    Within a year, my name will be on the lips of kings and presidents. Glory, fame, wealth, power. They are at my fingertips. What fate once stole from me I have snatched back tenfold. Grand health centers, cathedrals to the art of medicine, will be built for me in every city, in every country on this planet, and everywhere man races to beat death.
    Humanity will cannonize me. The saint of their survival.
    God is dead, and I am His replacement.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
    How to do it was problematic. She could copy the data and send it to Feeney along the same route she had the other information. He'd have it in hand the next day. It would be enough for a warrant, for search and seizure, to drag high-level staff members into interview.
    It was a way, a completely unsatisfying way.
    She could go to the Drake Center herself, punch her way into the lab, record the data, the samples, pound on high-level staff members until they spilled their guts.
    It was not the way, but it would have been very satisfying.
    She tapped the disc she'd copied on her palm. "Feeney will close it within forty-eight hours, once he has this. It may take longer to round up everyone involved on at least two continents. But it'll stop."
    "We'll put it in overnight now." He laid his hands on her shoulders, massaged the tension and fatigue. "I know it's hard not being there at the end of it. You can comfort yourself knowing there wouldn't be an end in a couple of days unless you'd found the answers. You're a hell of a cop, Eve."
    "I was."
    "Are. Your test results and Mira's evaluation will put you back where you belong. On the other side of the line." He leaned down, kissed her. "I'll miss you."
    It made her smile. "You manage to wiggle in, whichever side of the line I'm on. Let's get this data on its way. Then we'll watch the cleanup on-screen in a day or two, like normal citizens."
    "Wear your coat this time."
    "My coat's trash," she reminded him as they came down the stairs.
    "You have another." He opened a door, took out a long sweep of bronze cashmere. "It's too cold for your jacket."
    Eyeing him, she fingered the sleeve. "What, do you have some droids in a room somewhere manufacturing these?"
    "In a manner of speaking. Gloves in the pocket," he reminded her and shrugged on his own coat.
    She had to admit, it was nice to be wrapped in something warm and soft against the bitter air."Once we dump this data, let's come back, get naked, and crawl all over each other."
    "Sounds like a plan."
    "And tomorrow, you go back to work and stop hovering."
    "I don't believe I've been hovering. I believe I've been playing Nick to your Nora, and quite well."
    "Nick who?"
    "Charles, darling. We're going to have to spend time educating you in the entertainment value of classic early-twentieth-century cinema."
    "I don't know where you find time for that stuff. It must be because you don't sleep like a regular human being. You're out there piling up billions and buying small worlds and -- which reminds me, we need to discuss this idiotic idea of yours about stuffing money in some account for me. I want you to take it back."
    "All five million plus, or less the half million you're donating to the Canal Street Clinic?"
    "Don't get smart with me, pal. I married you for your body, not your bucks."
    "Darling Eve, that's so touching. And all the while I thought it was my coffee connection."
    Love could swamp her at the oddest times, she realized. "That didn't hurt. Tomorrow, you do whatever it is you do to zap it back out and close it down. And next time you... Louise. Oh Christ. Head to the Drake! Head there now! Damn it, how did this slip by us?"
    He punched up speed, clipped the curb at the corner. "You think they'll go after her?"
    "They took out Jan. They can't let Louise talk." Ignoring jams and privacy, she used the car 'link and tagged Feeney on his communicator.
    "Get to the Drake," she told him. "Get to Louise. I'm on my way, ETA five minutes. They'll go for her, Feeney. They've got to go for her. She had data."
    "We'll head out. She's under guard, Dallas."
    "It won't matter. The uniform won't question a doctor. Contact him, Feeney, tell him not to let anyone in that room."
    "Confirmed. Our ETA fifteen minutes."
    "We'll be there in two," Roarke promised her as he flew across town. "Waverly?"
    "Current president of AMA, chief of surgery, organ specialist, board member. Affiliated with several