Immortal in Death by J. D. Robb Page A

moment, he rubbed his joined hands against his brow. “Your resignation would not be accepted. Sit down, Lieutenant. Damn it, Dallas,” he erupted when she remained standing. “Sit. I’ll make it a fucking order.”
    “Yes, Commander.”
    He sighed, reined in his temper. “I hurt you not long ago with a personal attack that was neither appropriate nor deserved. Because of that, I damaged something between us. I understand that you no longer feel comfortable under my command.”
    “You are the best commander I’ve ever served under. I have no problem with you as my superior.”
    “But no longer friends — not even remotely.” He nodded, accepting her silence. “However, because of my behavior during your investigation of a case that was very personal to me, you should be aware that I fully understand what you’re going through on this one. I know what it is to be torn between loyalties, Dallas. While you may be unable to discuss your feelings in this case with me, I strongly suggest that you do so with someone you can trust. My mistake in the other investigation was in not sharing the burden. Don’t make the same one with this.”
    “Mavis didn’t kill anyone. No amount of evidence will convince me otherwise. I’ll do my job, Commander. And in doing it, I’ll find the real killer.”
    “I have no doubt you’ll do your job, Lieutenant, or that you’ll suffer for it. You have my support, whether you choose to use it or not.”
    “Thank you, sir. I have a request to make on another case.”
    “Which is?”
    “The Johannsen matter.”
    This time he sighed, long and deep. “You’re like a damn terrier, Dallas. You never let go.”
    She couldn’t argue the point. “You have my report on what was found at Boomer’s flop. The illegal substance has not been fully identified. I’ve done some research of my own on the formula we discovered.” She took a disc out of her bag. “It’s a new blend, highly potent, its effects would probably be fairly long term as compared to what’s found on the street. Four to six hours for an average dose. Too much more at one time would be, in eighty-eight percent, fatal.”
    Lips pursed, Whitney turned the disc over in his hands. “Personal research, Dallas?”
    “I had a connection, I used it. The lab is still working, but they have identified several of the ingredients, and their ratios. My point is, this substance would be enormously profitable, as it takes only a small amount to produce results. It’s highly addictive, and produces feelings of strength, delusions of power, and a kind of euphoria — not tranquillity, but a sense of control over self and others. It also contains some sort of cell regenerator. I’ve calculated the results of long-term addiction. Daily use for a period of five years will, in ninety-six point eight percent, result in a complete and sudden shutdown of the nervous system. And death.”
    “Christ Jesus. It’s poison?”
    “Ultimately, yes. The manufacturers certainly know this, which makes them guilty not only of distributing illegals, but of premeditated murder.”
    She let him chew over that a moment, knew the headache it would cause if and when the media dug its claws into the data. “Boomer may or may not have known about this aspect, but he knew enough to be killed for it. I want to pursue the case and, as I’m aware, I’m distracted by other matters, so I request that Officer Peabody be assigned as my aide until the matter is resolved.”
    “Peabody has little experience in illegals or homicide, Lieutenant.”
    “She makes up for it with brains and sweat. I’d like her to assist in my coordinating with Lieutenant Casto of Illegals, who also used Boomer as a weasel.”
    “I’ll see to it. As to the Pandora homicide, use Feeney.” He lifted a brow. “You already are, I see. Let’s pretend I’ve just ordered it, and make it official. You’ll have to deal with the media.”
    “I’m getting used to it. Nadine Furst is