She’d added a temp tattoo on one of those nicely lifted tits of a winged dragon inside a heart, pumped up the facial enhancements, gone wild and curly with the hair, and draped on plenty of sparkles.

No possible way she looked like a cop.

She knew the outfit worked because McNab had taken one look at her, made that flattering mmmmm sound of his, and grabbed her ass.

Undercover meant blending, and she concluded they’d passed that test, she in her plum purple and candy pink, McNab in his spring-grass green and Son of Zark tee. Hand-in-hand they glided across the lobby in her heeled shines and his ankle skids toward con registration.

In his many pockets and inside her many zips, they carried weapons-which had required a stop and private ID scan at Security-as well as badges, restraints, ’links, and communicators.

Neither expected trouble, but both sort of hoped for it.

They collected their con passes, registration packs, and freebies-which included go-cups featuring characters from a new game, some free downloads, discount chits, and map discs.

“This is the frost on the ice,” McNab decided as they moved into the first display area. “This is total. Did you see they have VR demos all day-and look, man, that’s the new 3-Z system. It’s got portable holo capabilities. Costs the earth and a couple satellites, and it’s first generation, but you can play holo without a full holo-room.”

Peabody stopped long enough to watch the demo. “The characters look like ghosts. Flat, jittery ghosts.”

“Yeah, well, it’s first generation. Give it a couple years. Tech rules, baby.”

They wandered along with aliens and warriors, villains and heroes and geeks, while the air zipped and buzzed and crashed around them.

Lines snaked for demos, for meetings with game to vid or vid to game characters. Screens exploded with battles, space wars, air-toground chases, and magic quests.

“There’s the U-Play booth.” Peabody pointed. “We should go hang around there, get some dish.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” McNab craned his head to watch the screen as she dragged him along. “I could beat that score. I have beat that score. I should sign up to play. It’s in character.”

“Later. If Dallas tags me while you’re screwing around, it’ll be both our butts. We make contact, get the feel, get all juiced about weapons, see what we see. Then you can kick ass in Worm Hole.”

“She-body.” He gave her a little one-arm cuddle. “You’re so efficient. They’ve got adults-only games one level down.”

She slanted him a look under plum-tinted lashes. “Oh yeah?”

“I checked the map.”

“Well… It would be in character. It’s all for the cause.”

“Abso. If we don’t play a few games while we’re here, somebody’ll get suspicious.”

“We’ll work our way down.” She leaned over, nipped his multi-ringed ear. “Then I’ll take you down.”

“Fighting words.” He gave her ass a nice squeeze.

People crowded in and around the U-Play booth, a colorful throng against the streams of black crepe. A poster of Bart Minnock held center stage while on-screen he conducted a seminar on game play.

Some of the attendees wept openly, while others purchased mementoes, systems, games, and action figures. All reduced ten percent, in memorial.

They worked their way in, and Peabody widened her eyes at a woman manning a section of the booth. “Is he really dead? I heard it was just a publicity stunt to kick off a new game.”

“He’s gone.” Her already red-rimmed eyes watered up. “We’re all just flattened.”

“Did you know him?” McNab asked. “Like, personally?”

“Not really. I work out of East Washington, mostly handle marketing for this region. I met him though. He was a great guy.”

“But come on.” Peabody pushed a little. “What they’re saying can’t be true. Getting his head cut off, in a holo-room. It sounds like a game to me.”

The woman’s teary eyes went cold. “He was murdered, and that’s not a game.”

“Well, Jeez, sorry. It just doesn’t sound real. I mean, who’d do something like that?”

“I hope they find out soon, and make him pay. Gaming’s lost a really bright light. And those of us with U-Play, well, we feel we lost the heart.”

“It’s really sad,” Peabody said, and added a pat-pat on the woman’s arm. “My guy here’s the big fan. We hooked work and everything to come down because we heard about it.”

“I told you it was real.” McNab tried for scolding and sorrowful at the same time. “I just want to say I really related to Bart. You know, he was the face of my generation of gamers. I bought U-Play’s first PS system, and I’ve never looked back. I got their PS-5, with the substation for Christmas last year. It really sings.”

“We’re very proud of it. Have you demo’d Excursion?”

“No, not yet.”

“Let me give you a complimentary demo copy, in memory of Bart.”

“Mag. I mean, thanks. I don’t mean-”

“I got it.” She offered the disc. “This’ll give you ten plays before it wipes. I hope you enjoy it.”

“No question. You know, some of my favorites?” McNab easily rattled off a list of games, heavy on war and weapons. “We have a Dead of Knight tournament every couple months at our place.”

“He was actually going to e-mail U-Play and invite Bart,” Peabody added, inspired.

“Oh, you should have! He might’ve come.”

“I’m thinking of having a big one next month-full costumes, props, the whole banana. Like kind of a tribute.”

“If you do, let me know.” She pulled out a card. “I might be able to get you some attention, and arrange for some freebies.”

“Hey, that’d be total. I heard a lot about Bart’s collection. I relate there, too.”

“I’ll say. My boy likes weapons, especially the phallic ones,” Peabody added with a wink. “We’ve got our game room loaded with them. We’re always on the lookout for something really tight. I like to find them and surprise him.”

“They’ve got a terrific weapons display up a level.”

“Yeah, we’re heading up there.”

“Ask for Razor, show him my card. I don’t know a lot about weapon collecting, but he knows everything. If it exists, in any form, he can find it, get it, sell it.”

“Frosty. Razor.” McNab glanced at the poster again. “I sure hope they get whoever did it.”

“We all do.”

As they left the booth, Peabody unzipped a pocket for her beeping ’link. After a glance at the display, she switched to privacy mode. “Hi, Mom!”

“Cute,” Eve said. “I’m-what the hell do you have on your face? And your hair’s all screwy.”

“Undercover, remember?” Peabody muttered. “I’m blending.”

“Where? At the Geek Skank Parade?”

Peabody narrowed her eyes. “What do you know about geek skanks? And who’s here because they do know?”

“Point taken, so never mind. I’m on my way back to Central.

Report, Detective Skank.”

“Ha-ha-ha.” Peabody sniffed. “We haven’t been here long, so we’re still feeling our way. But we just had a nice talk with one of the reps at the U-Play booth. They’ve got it draped in black, got a big picture of Bart-and they’re running a discount on for-sale merchandise due to death. Business is brisk.”

“Death sale? Interesting. I wonder whose brainchild that was.”

“We’re heading up to Weapons now. The rep gave us a contact.”

“Good. Let me know if you get a hit. How many times have you stopped to play games?”

“Not once. I swear.”

“Well, play something, for Christ’s sake. You’re supposed to be players. You can’t blend by skank alone.”

“You know, I’m starting to take the skank as a compliment. Game play’s on the slate.”

“And get back here asap. Feeney’s bitching about losing his boy.”

“We’re-” Peabody blew out a breath as Eve broke transmission. “Do I look like a skanky geek or a geeky skank?”

“If those are my only two choices, I abstain. I think you look like my one and only She-body, supreme.”