Her face flushed. "Maybe I'm tired of getting the runaround from firms who're more interested in running up their expense accounts than finding my husband."

Jesus, did this one love the melodrama! But it didn't quite scan. Something in her manner. Like she knew the femme fatale act wasn't working on me, but kept at it, just to be irritating.

As if to prove me right, she drew on her cigarette, French inhaling. It was a teenager's trick, but with those ruby lips and lapis lazuli eyes, she made it dangerously interesting.

"My husband is a scientist, Mr. Donner. A geneticist."

Which meant well-paid, but not rich. That tended to nix a professional snatch-for-cash scenario, unless...

"Do you have money, Ms. Struldbrug?"

She smiled, her tongue peeking between her teeth. "Yes."

"Have you checked your accounts? Assets?"

"They haven't been touched."

"And you haven't heard from anyone? No ransom demands?"

"No."

"How long has he been missing?"

"Three weeks."

Hmm. She hadn't given my predecessors much time to work.

"Tell me about the night he disappeared."

"That night, he called from work. He spoke to Maria, our housekeeper."

"What time?"

"Around seven-thirty. I was out, so he tried my implant. He left a voice mail."

"Why didn't you answer your... implant?"

"Probably in a meeting."

"What was the message?"

"Something about a breakthrough at work. He was excited, rushed. He said he'd be home soon. He never arrived."

"What time did you get home?"

"Around eleven-thirty."

"And Maria said he'd never come home?"

"Maria was gone by then. But I saw no sign that he'd come home and gone back out."

"You said he sounded excited. Sure he wasn't afraid?"

"I know the difference. He was jubilant, arrogant. He had reason to be. His research will change the world."

I thought I kept my face pretty even.

"That's not a wife's simple pride speaking, Mr. Donner. It's an employer's critical assessment. Morris' research division works for us." I guess I looked blank. She smiled. "Don't tell me you don't know who I am!"

Uh-oh.

"My brother, Adam, is President and CEO of Surazal. I am the Director of Research and Development."

After a few ticks of the clock, my mind rebooted enough for me to simply be in total shock. Why didn't Bart warn me? I stood, poured myself a double and threw the whole thing back.

"Surazal," I said. "The company that's building the Blister. The company that runs this city."

She looked weary of the question. "I think the Mayor would take issue with that."

"But it brings me back around to 'why me'?"

Her eyes flashed. The lady wasn't used to explaining herself. But playacting her peon wouldn't get either of us what we wanted.

"Ms. Struldbrug-"

"Nicole, please."

"Nicole. With the resources you command, it seems unlikely that you would hire someone freshly reborn, someone who barely knows his way around town."

"The police are at a standstill. The other firms have gotten nowhere. Detective Hennessy recommended you. It's as simple as that."

Simple as that. Except she was full of shit.

Then I had it. Duh. "And maybe you want a reeb."

Her eyes twinkled, but she issued neither a confirmation nor denial. "Morris was close to unraveling the secrets of reborn DNA when he disappeared."

"And you believe the nature of his work will give me what? An added incentive to find him?"

She leaned in and her perfume, expensive and subtle, closed the gap between us. "I thought your type was keen to prove you're not monsters."

"I know what I am," I said, without letting too much heat into my voice.

"I thought you were a detective," she said, giving me another once-over. "You're certainly dressed like one." I was wearing the suit from the processing center. A double-breasted pinstriped affair with lapels a mile wide. Topped off with a suede fedora, wing-tipped shoes. I hadn't had a chance yet to find something more to my own tastes.

"Don't you like my clothes?" I said.

"Au contraire. You look yummy." She shifted gears smoothly from amused to worried. Her lips trembled just the perfect amount. "Since another member of my genetics team has been murdered," she said, "you can see-"

"Wait a minute. Who was murdered?"

"I thought Detective Hennessy briefed you about all this."

"Apparently there's a lot he skipped."

"Dr. Smythe. He was also on the Reborn DNA Project with Morris. He was found dead two days before Morris disappeared."

"They work in the same lab? How do you know your husband didn't kill this Doctor Smythe and then flee?"

A laugh. "Morris, violent? Please. He's a ninety-pound weakling."

"What were they working on?"

"As I said, reborn DNA. Beyond that, I don't really know."

"You don't know?"

"Surazal is a multi-trillion dollar operation with fifteen major divisions, Mr. Donner, including research, security, drug manufacturing, Blister construction, and civil administration. My R&D department alone has over fifty-seven active projects. Forgive me if I don't know the details of every one of them."

"No," I replied. "But certainly the project your very own husband was working on."

She just looked at me.

"What'd you give him for his last birthday?"

She hesitated. Then a slow smile broke over her face. "Fine," she said. "He's not my husband."

"Thanks for coming by," I said.

She didn't move. "I'm sorry I lied," she said, without a flicker of remorse. "But I had to test you."

"Thanks for coming by," I said.

"You don't want to pass up this opportunity."

"I have to trust my clients."

"If you couldn't sleuth out my true relationship with Morris, you wouldn't be the man for the job, now would you? But you passed with flying colors." She gave me a look that made me glad my clothes were fire resistant. "Everything else I told you is true. Oh, please. Can't we start over? Dr. Crandall's work is vital to my company."

"Why?"

"Because it's possible we could cure the Shift!"

"That would cost you, though, wouldn't it? All those juicy contracts for magnetic domes and security?"

"That's an incredibly cynical statement."

I rubbed my face. "Who can give me the details about this DNA project?"

"Dr. Maurice Gavin oversees the project directly. I can arrange an appointment."

"Good."

"Then you'll take the case?"

I had no patience for liars and game-players. But I needed a stake. And if said no, it might hurt Bart. She had the juice and black widow malice to make things tough for him. So I nodded, already feeling trapped.

"Do you think he's still alive?" she said.

"Might be as simple as he ran off with a woman."

Her laughter was musical. "Oh, you can rule out anything as tawdry as that. Morris's work was his life. Utterly."

"Drugs? The ponies?"

"No, as I said, he was a real straight shooter."

I unplastered myself from the wall. "Okay, Ms. Struldbrug. That'll get me started."

I escorted her to the door. She turned and moved in, abruptly too close. Apprehension filled her face. I could feel her heat, smell her cinnamon breath.

"Two of my people, missing or murdered, Mr. Donner. What if I'm next?"

"You have security," I said.

"The best in the world and worthless. You know that." She was right. A fanatic could always beat protection, no matter how good. All it cost was his own life.

She radiated anxiety like a furnace. Somewhere, my alarms went off again. Her lids fluttered. "It's so hot," she said. Then she was sagging against me. I grabbed her to keep her from sliding to the floor. Her breath washed across my neck. I pushed her back, but she clung, lips rubbing across the angle of my jaw. I pushed her away more strongly. Her feet found purchase and she took a step back, straightening her blouse. She reached out and wiped lipstick from my cheek. I flinched like I'd been touched by a snake.

"Something to remember me by," she said.

"The money's enough."

She smiled then, unreadable, and slipped out the door.

Slowly, very slowly, I leaned against the door jam.

I didn't kiss her, Elise, I didn't kiss her.

I walked over to the cracked mirror, found an intact piece, and scrubbed the remaining lipstick from my face, feeling like territory that had been marked by a predator.

I stood that way for a while, smoking and looking at my shattered reflection.

10.