Page 117 of Fury In Death
“Next to nothing,” she said with a smile. “I have gone with him a few times on work travel, when that work allowed or when I could link my own work to that location. But science? A mystery to me. I know his work, and the work done at Banner-Wyst, is important, but the details of how that work’s done remain a mystery.”
When Peabody came back, Eve read her look, rose. “We appreciate you taking the time to speak with us.”
“Of course. I wish I could help. I’ll certainly let Jack know when I hear from him. He’s been so upset, as you can imagine. I hope the work he was sent to do takes his mind off it all, for a while. Should I tell him to contact you?”
“We’d appreciate it. Thanks again.”
“Oh, let me clear our elevator to take you down.”
Peabody reported as soon as the doors shut. “The droid said O’Brian rushed in, told him to pack and fast, for an extended trip. O’Brian packed another bag, and a briefcase, personally. He instructed the droid to tell Dossier he’d been called out of town on a work emergency and was flying to Central America.”
“He’s not anywhere near Central America.”
“Nope. The droid asked if he should book the flight, the car service, and O’Brian said he’d already taken care of it. He’d contact Dossier when he was able. To tell her he was sorry. Very sorry.”
“After you finish with the shuttle, check his financials. See how much he cleared out. His wife’s going to get one hell of a shock.”
“Yeah. She seemed like a nice woman.”
“Too bad she has lousy taste in husbands.”
Peabody wasn’t as fast as Roarke—nobody was—but she came through.
“Going by timing, and single male passenger? We’ve got a Seth Connor heading to Bora Bora.”
“Bora Bora?”
“Yeah. He may be sorry for ditching his wife, but it looks like he plans to enjoy himself in tropical breezes.”
“That’s probably accurate, but we’re going to check, see if he juggled names again, bounced from there. Financials first. No, look for the bounce.”
Eve tagged Roarke.
“And here we are again.”
“You’re wearing a T-shirt, and you’re all sweaty.”
Peabody looked up from her PPC, leaned to the left to check out the screen. And said, very, very quietly, “Oh yes.”
“I had an hour, so I’m using the gym.”
“That’s not our gym.”
“No, it’s the one at my offices. What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”
“I thought I’d give you another present.”
Laughing, he dried his face with a small white towel. “And whose financials am I prying into?”
“John—goes by Jack—O’Brian.”
“Done that, haven’t I?”
“Do a quick one, see how much is left in the accounts you looked at.”
“Ah. On the run, is he then?”
“Don’t think like a cop if you don’t want to hear you think like a cop. Either Peabody or I can do it, but—”
