Free Brotherhood in Death by J. D. Robb Page A

didn’t.”
    She turned toward the entrance of the grand Deco building.
    â€œI never put it together he was related to Senator Mira. I mean, could they be less alike?”
    Eve frowned as she pushed through the door. “You know Edward Mira?”
    â€œYes. I mean, not personally. Politically. Free-Ager,” Peabody reminded her. “I pretty much disagree with everything he’s for, but . . .”
    Peabody trailed off, gaping and neck-craning like a tourist. “I’ve never been in here. It’s abso mag!”
    â€œStop gawking.” Eve added an elbow jab. “Be a fricking cop.”
    It impressed, sure, with its three-story entrance, the golden-red marble walls, the glow of the golden floors and palatial pillars.
    But cops didn’t gawk.
    Eve left Peabody trailing behind her—likely still gawking—and approached one of the info screens.
    Welcome. Please state your desired destination.
    â€œThe Mira Institute.”
    The image of the iconic building on screen morphed into the logo for the Institute.
    The Mira Institute occupies floors thirty and thirty-one, with its main lobby on floor thirty. Please state the party or department you wish to visit, and you will be directed.
    â€œThe main lobby works.”
    Please see the guard at the security station for screening and admittance. Enjoy your visit and the rest of your day.
    Even as Eve turned, two uniformed guards stepped in front of her.
    â€œKeep your hands visible. You need to come with us.”
    Already been screened, she thought, and their weapons had alerted security.
    â€œWe’re NYPSD. I’m going to reach for my badge. Got that?”
    She kept her moves slow just in case one of them had a jumpy stunner finger, took out her badge.
    The man she showed it to took it, ran it with a pocket scanner. “Lieutenant,” he said, handing it back. “We’ll need to see yours, too,” he added to Peabody.
    Once satisfied, he nodded and his companion stepped away, murmured into a lapel mic.
    â€œYou’re clear. Take the east bank of elevators to thirty. I’ll alert them. Otherwise, you’ll be stopped when you get off. They have secondary security on thirty.”
    â€œAppreciate it.”
    They crossed the lobby, joined a small, chatty group getting on the elevator. She smelled coffee in someone’s go-cup, so sweet it nearly made her teeth ache, and someone else’s overly floral perfume. Two women chirped like mynah birds about hitting the inventory sales downtown on their lunch break, while some guy in a Russian cossack hat droned on into his pocket ’link about a nine o’clock staff meeting.
    Eve decided if she was forced to always work in an office, she’d just jump out the nearest window and be done with it.
    The mynah birds got off on twenty. Coffee-flavored sugar on twenty-three. Drenched in flowers glided off on spike-heeled boots and a swish of black coat on twenty-seven.
    They got off on thirty with the droner.
    Reception centered around an S-shaped counter backed by a floor-to-ceiling logo in sober and serious block letters. The waiting area faced the wide window, tinted to cut the glare. Black gel sofas rangedalongside a trio of gold scoop chairs with controls in their wide backs for music, refreshment, privacy settings, and communication. A life-size portrait of Edward Mira peered down righteously from the far wall.
    A woman manned the first wide curve of the counter. She wore a black suit with thin silver piping and triangular shoulders sharp enough to slice bread. She worked busily at a muscular computer, but paused to flash a welcoming smile.
    â€œLieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody. Security notified me of your arrival. How can I help you today?”
    â€œWe need to speak to whoever’s in charge.”
    â€œOf what?”
    Eve pointed at the enormous logo. “Of this.”
    â€œI’m afraid Senator Mira isn’t in.