"Robb, J D - In Death 14 - Interlude In Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robb J D)

was good for comfort. The flimsy layers of it barely shielded the essentials.
Still, as her fashion sense could be etched on a microchip with room to spare,
she had to figure Roarke knew what he was doing.
At the sound of the mixed voices rolling out of the ballroom as they
approached, Eve shook her head. "I bet half of them are already in the bag.
You're serving prime stuff in there, aren't you?"
"Only the best for our hardworking civil servants." Knowing his woman, Roarke
took her hand and pulled her through the open doorway.
The ballroom was huge, and packed. They'd come from all over the planet,
and its satellites. Police officials, technicians, expert consultants. The
brains and the brawn of law enforcement.
"Doesn't it make you nervous to be in the same room with, what, about four
thousand cops?" she asked him.
"On the contrary, Lieutenant," he said laughingly. "I feel very safe."
"Some of these guys probably tried to put you away once upon a time."
"So did you." Now he took her hand and, before she could stop him, kissed it.
"Look where it got you."
"Dallas!" Officer Delia Peabody, decked out in a short red dress instead of her
standard starched uniform, rushed up. Her dark bowl of hair had been fluffed and
curled. And, Eve noted, the tall glass in her hand was already half empty.
"Peabody. Looks like you got here."
"The transport was on time, no problem. Roarke, this place is seriously iced. I
can't believe I'm here. I really appreciate you getting me in. Dallas."
She hadn't arranged it as a favor, exactly. If she was going to suffer
through a seminar, Eve had figured her aide should suffer, too. But from the
look of things Peabody seemed to be bearing up.
"I came in with Feeney and his wife," Peabody went on. "And Dr. Mira and her
husband. Morris and Dickhead and Silas from Security, Leward from Anti-Crime --
they're all around somewhere. Some of the other guys from Central and the
precincts. NYPSD is really well represented."
"Great." She could expect to get ragged on about her speech for weeks.
"We're going to have a little reunion later in the Moonscape Lounge."
"Reunion? We just saw each other yesterday."
"On-planet." Peabody's lips, slicked deep red, threatened to pout. "This
is different."
Eve scowled at her aide's fancy party dress. "You're telling me."
"Why don't I get you ladies a drink? Wine, Eve? And Peabody?"
"I'm having an Awesome Orgasm. The drink, I mean, not, you know, personally."
Amused, Roarke brushed a hand over her shoulder. "I'll take care of it."
"Boy, could he ever," Peabody muttered as he walked away.
"Button it." Eve scanned the room, separating cops from spouses, from techs,
from consultants. She focused in on a large group gathered in the southeast
corner of the ballroom. "What's the deal there?"
"That's the big wheel. Former Commander Douglas R. Skinner." Peabody gestured
with her glass, then took a long drink. "You ever meet him?"
"No. Heard about him plenty, though."
"He's a legend. I haven't gotten a look yet because there's been about a
hundred people around him since I got here. I've read most of his books. The way
he came through the Urban Wars, kept his own turf secure. He was wounded during
the Atlanta Siege, but held the line. He's a real hero."