Mostly, unless it related to a case, she liked to remain as oblivious as possible to emotional vibrations. But there'd been so many of them winging around in her office, she'd been tempted to duck and cover. Here, the air was smooth and placid. She settled down at one of the desks, input the fresh data into the file. "Computer, factoring new data, run probability scan on subject Carlo as alias for suspect." Working... probability subject Carlo as alias for suspect is ninety-six-point-two percent "Yeah, that's what I think. Second run. Probability subject Carlo manufactures illegals he subsequently sells." Working... insufficient data for scan. Request further input to complete. "That's where you're wrong." She pushed away from the desk to pace on the faded roses on the antique rug. "He makes it, he bottles it, he sells it, he uses it. Control. It's all about control. Sixty thousand a year from one client for what, three ounces of that shit?
