On the way to Cop Central, Eve contacted Peabody. The uniform's calm, serious face floated on screen. " Dallas."

"Yes, Lieutenant."

"You hauled in Johannsen."

"Sir. I'm completing my report right now. I can send you a copy."

"Appreciate it. How did you tag him?"

"I had a porta-ident in my field kit, sir. I ran his prints. The fingers were severely damaged, so I only managed a partial, but the indication was Johannsen. I'd heard he was one of your weasels."

"Yeah, he was. Good work, Peabody."

"Thank you, sir."

" Peabody, you interested in assisting the primary in this case?''

Control slipped for an instant, just long enough to show the glint in Peabody 's eyes. "Yes, sir. Are you the primary?"

"He was mine," Eve said simply. "I'll clear it. My office, Peabody. One hour."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

" Dallas," Eve muttered. "Just Dallas." But Peabody had already broken transmission.

Eve scowled at the time, snarled at the traffic, and detoured three blocks to a drive-through cafe. The coffee was slightly less disgusting there than at Cop Central. Fueled with that and with what had probably been intended as a sweet roll, she stowed her vehicle and prepared to report to her commander.

As she rode up in the stifling excuse for an elevator, she could feel her back stiffening. Telling herself it was petty, that it should have been over, didn't seem to matter. Resentment and hurt left over from a previous case wouldn't completely fade.

She walked into the administration lobby with its busy consoles, dark walls, and threadbare carpeting. She announced herself at Commander Whitney's reception station and was asked to wait by the bored voice of an office drone.

She remained where she was rather than wandering over to look out of the window or to while away time with one of the aging magazine discs. The all-news station on screen behind her had been turned to mute and didn't interest her in any case.