"The sins of the father don't always transfer. Still, medical knowledge would have come in handy in these particular murders. We'll hold these two, but put them at the bottom of the list. Bring up the next group."

"Rileys. Father, four brothers – "

"Four? God Almighty."

"And all of them a terror to decent citizens everywhere. Take a good look at Brian Riley. He once kicked my head in. Of course two of his brothers and a close personal friend were holding me down at the time. Black Riley, he liked to be called."

Roarke reached for a cigarette as the old, well-buried bitterness punched its way free. "We're of an age, you see, and you could say Riley had a keen dislike for me."

"And why was that?"

"Because I was faster, my fingers lighter." He smiled a little. "And the girls preferred me."

"Well, your Black Riley's been in and out of cages most of his young life." Eve angled her head. Another good-looking man, she mused, with fair hair and sulky green eyes. Ireland appeared to be filled with handsome men who looked for trouble. "But he hasn't served any time in the last few years. Employment record's spotty, mostly as head knocker at bars and skin clubs. But this is interesting. He worked security for an electronics firm for nearly two years. He could have picked up quite a bit in that amount of time if he has a brain."

"There was nothing wrong with his brain, it was his attitude."

"Right. Can you get into his passport?"

"The official one, easily enough. Give me a minute."

Eve studied the image while Roarke worked. Green eyes, she mused. The kid – Kevin – had said the man he'd seen had green eyes. Or he'd thought so. Of course eye color could be changed as easily as a spoiled child's mind.

"Immigration records, screen four," Roarke told her.

"Yeah, he's visited our fair city a time or two," Eve noted. "Let's log these dates, and we'll see if we can find out what he was up to while he was here. Were the brothers close?"

"The Rileys were like wild dogs. They'd have torn out each other's throat for the same bone, but they'd form a pack against an outsider."

"Well, let's take a good, close look at all four of them."

By three a.m. she was losing her edge. The data and images on screen began to blur and run together. Names and faces, motives and murder. When she felt herself drifting to sleep where she stood, Eve pressed her fingers hard against her burning eyes.

"Coffee," she muttered, but found herself staring at the AutoChef without a clue how to operate it.

"Sleep." Roarke pressed a mechanism that had a bed sliding out of the wall.

"No, I just have to catch my second wind. We've got it down to ten possibles. And I want to look harder at that Francis Rowan who became a priest. We can – "

"Take a break." He came up behind her, guided her toward the bed. "We're tired."

"Okay, we'll take a nap. An hour." Head and body seemed to float apart as she slid onto the bed. "You lie down too."

"I will." He lay beside her, gathered her close. He could feel her fall into sleep, a lazy tumble that had the arm she'd tossed around his waist going limp.

He stared at the screens a moment longer, into the void of his past. He'd separated himself from that, from them. The boy from Dublin's sad alleys had made himself rich, successful, respected, but he'd never forgotten what it was to be poor, a failure and disdained.

And he knew, as he lay in the soft bed on smooth linen sheets in a magnificent house in a city he'd made his home, that he would have to go back.

What he might find there, and in himself, troubled him.

"Lights out," he ordered, and willed himself to follow Eve into sleep.

It was the beep of an incoming transmission that woke them both three hours later. Roarke swore when Eve jerked up and the top of her head caught him smartly on the jaw.

"Oh, sorry." She rubbed her head. "Is that yours or mine?''

"Mine." Gingerly he rotated his jaw. "It's a warning alarm. I have a conference call set up for six-thirty."

"I've got McNab and Peabody here at seven. Christ." She scrubbed her hands over her face and, when her fingers dipped below her eyes, studied him. "How come you never look ragged in the morning?"

"Just one of those little gifts from God." He scooped back his hair, which managed to look sexily tousled. "I'll shower in here, save time. I should be finished up with this call by the time McNab gets here. I'd like to work with him this morning."

"Roarke – "

"The transmission didn't come from this house. So I have an electronic leak somewhere. I know the setup here, in and out. He doesn't." He added a bit of charm to his smile. "I've worked with Feeney."

"That's different." But since she couldn't explain how it was different, she shrugged. "McNab has to clear it. I won't order him to work with a civilian."

"Fair enough."

By eight, Eve had Peabody installed in a temporary office down the hall from her own. It was actually a small and elegant sitting room off a sweeping guest bedroom, but it was equipped with a tidy little communication and information center for the convenience of overnight associates who often visited.

Peabody gawked at the original pen-and-ink drawings covering the walls, the hand-knotted area rug, the deep silver cushions spread over an S-shaped settee.

"Pretty grand work space."

"Don't get used to it," Eve warned. "I want to be back at Central by next week. I want this closed."

"Sure, but I'll just enjoy this while it lasts." She'd already eyed the mini AutoChef and speculated on what it might offer. "How many rooms are in this place?"

"I don't know. Sometimes I think they mate at night and make more little rooms that grow into big rooms, and mate at night -" Eve stopped herself, shook her head. "I didn't get much sleep. I'm punchy. I've got data here that needs a fresh eye and organizing."

"I got eight straight. My eye's fresh."

"Don't be smug." Eve pinched the bridge of her nose. "This data is unofficial, Peabody, but I think our man's in here, somewhere. There's a temporary block on this computer so that your work will bypass CompuGuard. I'm working on a way around that, but until I figure it out, there's no fancy way to put this. I'm asking you to break the law."

Peabody considered for a moment. "Is that AutoChef fully stocked?"

Eve had to smile. "Around here? They always are. I have to get something to Whitney by this afternoon. I'm putting what I can together. Since this guy doesn't wait long between hits, we're in a squeeze."

"Then I better get to work."

Eve left her to it, but when she walked into her office, she found McNab and Roarke huddled together. The snazzy black armor of her computer was on the floor. Its guts were exposed, its dignity in ruins. Her desk 'link was in several unidentifiable pieces.

"What the hell are you two doing?"

"Men's work," Roarke said and flashed her a grin. His hair was tied back, his sleeves rolled up, and he looked to be having the time of his life.

She would have mentioned men and their toys, but decided it would be a waste of breath.

"If you don't get this back together, I'm taking over your office."

"Help yourself. You see here, Ian? If we interface this it should open the whole system long enough for us to see if there's a leak."

"Don't you have a thing that does that?" she demanded. "A scanner?"

"This is the best way to keep a scan from showing up." McNab spared her a look that clearly told her she was in the way. "We can search, and nobody – especially our mystery caller – will know we're looking."