Tyrone turned his head away from Scott. "If you do, I'll kiss your bare ass on Broadway. We don't have shit." He sounded disgusted with the performance of his bureau.
Scott puffed up a bit before answering. The pride did not go unnoticed by Duncan. "I figured out how these guys, these black- mailers, whoever they are, get their information." Scott paused for effect which was not lost on Duncan.
"I don't care anymore. I've been pulled from the case," Tyrone said sounding exhausted.
"Well," Scott smirked. "I think you just might care, anyway."
Tyrone felt himself Scott putting him into a trap. "What have you got?"
Scott relished the moment. The answer was so simple. He saw the anticipation in Tyrone's face, but they had become friends and didn't feel right about prolonging the tension. "Van Eck."
Duncan was expecting more than a two word answer that was abso- lutely meaningless to him. "What? What is Van Eck? The ex- pressway?" He said referring to the New York Expressway that had been a 14 mile line traffic jam since it opened some 40 years ago.
"Not Van Wyck, Van Eck. Van Eck Radiation. That's how they get the information."
Duncan was no engineer, and he knew that Scott was proficient in the discipline. He was sure he had an education coming. "For us feeble minded simpletons, would you mind explaining? I know about Van Allen radiation belts, nuclear radiation . . .but ok, I give. What's this Van Eck?"
Scott had not meant to humble Tyrone that much. "Sorry. It's a pretty arcane branch of engineering, even for techy types. How much do you know about computers? Electronics?"