She drew the disc she'd logged out of U-Play from the right cup of her bra. Probably a silly and overly girly place to keep it, she thought, but she'd figured nobody could steal it unless they killed her first.She kicked off the new shoes that hurt her feet, then walked barefoot to her holo-room.

She loved holo. She could go anywhere. She'd seen the world with holo-not to mention worlds that only existed there and in the imagination.

Benny's research was so thorough. She'd wandered Piccadilly Circus, shivered by a loch in Scotland, explored the Amazon jungles.

She didn't need a crowded transport, the hassle of customs, the inconvenience of hotels where countless others had slept on the bed before you.

She only needed holo.

Even as she slid the disc in, her mood lifted. She set the program, then took a long, calming breath.

The heat enveloped her, the heavy, wet heat of a tropical jungle. Instead of the black suit she never intended to wear again, she was clad in the thin, buff-colored cotton, the sturdy boots, the cocky, rolled brimmed hat of a treasure hunter.

She loved this game for the puzzle, the strategy, the twists and turns-and yes, especially now-for the upcoming battles-fists, weapons, and wits -with any who opposed her on her search for the Dragon's Egg.

She opted to start at the beginning of the first level, and her arrival at the ancient village of Mozana. I t would take hours to run the entire game, but that was all good, she decided. She wanted nothing outside of this, wanted to think of nothing else, maybe forever.

She went through the steps and stages, the meets, the bartering, the purchase of supplies.

In one part of her mind she was Cill the treasure hunter-ruthless, brave, and cunning. In the other she remained Cill the programmer, observing the tiny details of the images, the movements, the audio, searching for any flaws.

She hiked through the heat, watched a snake coil itself on a limb and hiss. She waded through rivers, and raced to the mouth of a cave as the ground shook with an earthquake.

And there, by the light of a torch she found the cave drawings. Carefully, as she had countless times before in development, she copied them in her notebook by hand, and took photographs with her camera.

The simplicity of the first level would pull the gamer in, she thought. They want to move up, move on, face more challenges. As she did.

She gathered clues, racked up points, mopped the sweat off her brow, wetted her throat with water from her canteen.

I t tasted sweet and clear, and the salt from the sweat stung her eyes.

I t was perfect, she decided. So far.

On level three, an arrow whizzed by her head. She knew the path to take-which was maybe cheating a little. But it was fun! And work, too, she reminded herself as she charged up the steep path, her breath huffing out. Her boots skidded on mud from a recent storm, and when she went down, she felt the warm, wet dirt ooze between her fingers.

Up and running again, dodging left, right as muscle memory guided her.

Come on, she thought, yeah, come on! as her fingers reached for the Bowie in her belt.

The rival she'd named Delancy Queeg stood in the path, his knife already drawn.

"The henchmen you hired need more endurance," she said.

"They drove you where I wanted you. Go back now, and I 'll let you live."

"Is that what you said to my father before you slit his throat, you bastard?"

He smiled-tanned, handsome, deadly. "Your father was a fool, and so is his daughter. The Dragon's Egg is mine. I t's always been mine." He waved a hand, and she glanced behind long enough to see five bare-chested natives with bows ready.

"Not man enough to take me alone?" she demanded.

"Go," he ordered them. "You've done what you were paid to do."

Though they slipped away, she knew he was a liar. They would lie in wait. She would have to be quick.

She shifted her grip on the knife to combat stance, and began to circle on the narrow, muddy path.

Jabs, feints, and the scrape of blades. Perfect, she thought again, no tweaking necessary. She smelled blood where she'd nicked the bastard Queeg's arm, just above the wrist.

He'd cut her next, she thought, anticipating the next moves in the program as she played it. After he sliced her shoulder he'd smile, thinking he had the advantage.

Then she'd plunge it into his side, and leap from the cliff into the rock-strewn river below as arrows flew around her.She considered dodging the slice since she knew when it was coming, and from where, but it was better to study the details, to look for flaws if she played it by rote rather than mixing it up.

His knife struck out fast, the tip ripping through cotton and flesh. But instead of the expected jolt, she felt the tear, the fire of it.

She stumbled back, dropping her knife as she brought her hand up, felt the blood as warm against her fingers as the mud had been. In disbelief, she watched the knife drip with it.

Real, she thought. Not holo. Real.

As Queeg's lips spread in a feral smile, as his knife began another downward arc, she slipped on the muddy path and tumbled over the cliff with a scream snapped off by the rocks and rushing water below.

The next morning, Benny paced Var's office. "I 'm going to try her again."

"You tried her five minutes ago." Standing at his window, Var stared out in the direction of Cill's building. "She's not answering the 'link." He rubbed his hands over his hair. "Or e-mail, or text, or any damn thing."

Frustration in every line of his face, he turned back. "You're sure she didn't say anything to you about not coming in today?"

"No, I told you, just the opposite. She said she'd be in early. She didn't want to stay at her place any longer than she had to. I told her she could bunk at my place. You know how she is about her things, her space."

"Yeah, she said the same to me, and that if she didn't go back and stay the night, she'd probably never go back at all. Goddamn it." He looked at the time. "She's probably just overslept, that's all. Maybe she took a sleeper-"

"Maybe she took too many sleepers."

"Jesus. We should go over. We'll go over and check on her. Just in case... Probably just tuned out for a while, but we should check."

"Let's go now. Neither of us is going to get any work done until we do. She logged out her copy of Fantastical," Benny added as they caught an elevator down.

"She did? Well, that's good. That's good. Work's good for her, and it's probably why she's tuned out. Sure. She got caught up, worked late, took a sleeper. Probably didn't crash out until dawn or something."

"That's probably it. Yeah, that's probably it, but everything's so screwed up."

He looked at the flowers, thought of Bart.

"I know." Var laid a hand on Benny's shoulder. "Let me tell Stick we're going off-site for a few minutes."

When they got outside, they walked fast. "She'll probably be steamed supreme that we woke her up," Var commented and managed a smile.

"Yeah, I can hear her now. 'WTF! Can't I catch a few extra zees?' We'll cage some coffee off her."

"Now that's a plan. Hell of a storm last night, huh?"

"The sky was lit up like the raptor battle in Third Planet. Serious window-shaking storm. Cooled things off a little."

"Yeah." When they reached the building, Var punched in the code for Cill's visitor alert.

They waited, hands in pockets. Moments later, the comp announced no answer at the residence. When Var started to try again, Benny shook his head.

"Let's just go in. Let's go." He used the swipe Cill had given him, the palm plate, then the entry codes.

"Just tuned out," Var said under his breath as they headed to her apartment. "That's all it is; she's just tuned out."

Benny used the side of his fist, gave the door a good pounding.

"Jesus, Ben."

"I 'm not waiting." Again he used the swipe, the palm, and the two sets of codes. He pushed the door open partway, called her name.

"Cill! Hey, Cill! I t's Benny and Var."

"Yeah, don't pull out the pepper spray!"

"Cill?" Benny shoved the door open the rest of the way, hesitated a moment as he looked around the living area. He saw the shoes, the new ones, her bag. Pointed to the bag. "She's here. She never walks out the door without her sack full of stuff. I 'm going to check the bedroom."

"I 'll look in the office."They separated.

"She's not in here," Benny hurried out again. "I can't tell if the bed's been slept in because it always looks like that."

"She's not in the office, the spare, the kitchen. She's-"

"The holo-room!" Spinning on his heels Benny ran for it. He started to enter the code.

"I t's not locked, man." Var jerked a head up to the green light, opened the door.

Benny shoved by him. "God! Oh God, Cill!" He sprinted to where she lay crumpled and bloody, and very, very still. "Call nine-one-one!" he shouted.

"Hurry. Hurry."

Var whipped out his 'link, hit the emergency key. "Is she alive? Benny, Benny, tell me she's alive."

"I don't know." He took her hand, stroked her cheek. And as Var's voice came from behind him, as if through a long, dark tunnel, he gathered the courage to press his fingers to the pulse in her throat.

In her office, Eve prepped for the briefing. She'd requested Mira's attendance. She needed a professional opinion of her conclusions after having seen and analyzed each partner's apartment. With any luck, EDD would give her something concrete to add to that, and they could pull in her lead suspect.

She looked up as McNab pranced in.

"She's good," he said as he offered Cill's journal to Eve. "I 'm better. Thought you'd want it right away."

"You thought right. Did you read it?"

"No, I wasn't authorized to... maybe a couple pages," he admitted under Eve's cool stare. "I t's just-or what I read was just stuff. Daily stuff, some work shit, that kind of thing. Maybe she wrote a little about this guy she went out with a couple months ago. She decided he was a loser. I have to agree."

"Just a couple pages."

"Maybe what you'd call a few. Just to make sure there weren't any glitches."

"I 'm going to let you get away with that because you saved me from having to press her to open it. You've got over an hour before the briefing. Go away-and don't bother my partner."

"I wouldn't be a bother," he began, but her communicator signaled and he slipped out.

"Dallas."

Dispatch, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. Report to 431 Spring Street, Apartment 3.

"Cilla Allen's residence. Is she dead?"

Negative. Allen, Cilla, is being transported to St. Ignatius Hospital by emergency unit. Condition critical, multiple injuries. Report to officers on- scene and secure.

"Copy that. Dallas out."

She swung into the bullpen. McNab, who was bothering her partner, started to grin. Then saw her face. He laid a hand on Peabody's shoulder briefly. "Shit."

"Cill's being transported to St. Ignatius, critical condition. Let's go."

"What happened?" Peabody asked as she shoved up to follow Eve's long stride.

"That's what we're going to find out." She shook her head as Peabody started to speak again. "Try U-Play. I want to know if Var and Benny are there, and if so, I want you to verify that by speaking to them."

Peabody followed orders as they rode down to the garage. "Not there. Both of them left, together, about a half hour ago."

"T ogether," Eve murmured, nodded. "Yeah, that's a good play. I want a guard on her-in the ER, the OR, ICU, whatever and wherever. She's under our watch as of now, twenty-four/seven. See if we can get any details on her injuries, her condition. I don't want to hear multiple injuries, critical. I want some fucking details."

"Yes, sir." Peabody slanted a glance toward Eve as they jumped into the vehicle.

She braced herself as Eve peeled out.

CHAPTER 18

Eve ignored the retro-style elevator and bounded up the steps. "Report," she ordered the officer on the door as she grabbed Seal-I t from her field kit.