“I’m putting up the current crop of persons of interest on a separate board,” she told Eve. “Otherwise, the visual gets complicated to the eye.”
As she’d done exactly the same in her home office, Eve nodded. “We’ll need a third board. I have another angle I pulled out before I handed it off to Jenkinson. What do you know about the Urban Wars–era cult Red Horse?”
“Hard-line religious cult. Doctrine based on specific interpretations of Revelation. They were fanatics, dedicated to preparing for the end-time, which they believed had begun with the upheaval leading up to the Urban Wars. In their skewed vision, they saw themselves as servants or followers of the second horse—the red horse, of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, which represents war, or general violence. Small, scattered groups attacked, bombed, set fires as part of their mission, and abducted children—no older than eight—as they believed their minds and souls were still pure enough to be indoctrinated. When the general population was destroyed, they would inherit the earth and repopulate it with true believers. They called this The Purging.”
Eve stared at her with narrowed eyes. “How the hell do you know all that?”
Just a bit smug, Peabody buffed her nails on her cranberry-colored jacket. “We studied it in school.”
“I thought Free-Agers studied herbs and flowers and fluffy woodland creatures, and how to weave blankets.”
“That—and a bunch of stuff. They also teach about wars, history, religious intolerance. You know, the ills of society and stuff. So you get the knowledge, the big pictures, and are free to choose your own path.”
“Huh. Have you read Revelation?”
“Some of it. It’s really scary.” Smug died off in a shudder. “It gave me nightmares.”
“Killer angels, pestilence, fiery pits, and death. I can’t imagine why. When we get to that part of the briefing, you summarize, just like you did for me.”
“This was Red Horse?”
“You were doing so well, now you’re jumping to conclusions. Detectives detect, they don’t jump. Plus it’s a stupid name for a murderous cult. It sounds like they should be frolicking in a meadow.”
“Maybe that was the point.”
“Maybe so.”
“They killed families, Dallas, sick people, old people, doctors. They took the kids, unless they were nine or ten or teenagers. Then they killed them, too. There weren’t any kids in the bar.”
“I’ll explain the possible connection. Just set up the third board.” She handed over a folder with attached disc. “I need a few minutes. Nadine waylaid me.”
She sat at the conference table, pulled out her PPC to review her notes. Moments later, Mira came in.
“I’m early, I know, but I wanted to look over the …” She trailed off as she saw the boards. “That’s considerable progress.”
“It’s a hell of a lot more names, faces, possibles, and angles. I haven’t decided if that’s progress.”
“Motives. Money, power, jealousy, revenge.”
“Line up the usual suspects.”
“And religious fanaticism,” Mira added with fresh interest. “The Red Horse cult? They were broken before the end of the Urbans. Do you believe they’ve reformed?”
“I doubt it, but fanatics find like minds.”
“I don’t see the connection.”
“I’ll explain.”
“They were greatly feared for the few years they purged. I had friends in Europe, where they were most prevalent.”
“I’d like your opinion on this angle once I brief the team.” Her promise to Roarke gnawed at her. “I’d like some time today, if you have it.”
“I’ve cleared my day to focus on this. Any time you need.”
“Ah, this is mostly personal, so—”
“Of course.” Mira’s eyes met hers. “I’ll be available when you need me.”
“All right.”
They began to filter in, the detectives, the uniforms, the e-team. The room buzzed with voices, scraping chair legs, shuffling feet.
She took her place, waited a beat. “Before you each give your own reports, I’m going to give you a fresh overview. As you can see we’ve added a selection of persons of interest.”
She ran them through it, focusing on the twelve people who’d come up in the cross-match search.
“We’re going to add another factor to the scans. Connections to the Urban-era cult Red Horse, or any connection to cults or fringe religious or political groups. Peabody, give the team summary of Red Horse.”
“We didn’t have much out of them in New York,” Feeney commented when Peabody finished. “Had a couple hits, I remember they took credit for. They didn’t last long here. People fight back, and fight dirty when you go after their kids.”
“My source has verified that there were two incidents in Europe, credited to Red Horse. Cafes where the substance we’re dealing with—one with the same elements we’ve identified, and with the same results—was employed. The same substance,” she repeated, “that the investigators identified. Before the government shut down the investigation, then closed and covered it. The cover-up included the apprehension of a suspect whose identity is unknown. Where he was taken is unknown. Whether he was executed, imprisoned or used to develop the substance or other chemical and biological weapons is unknown.”
She let the conversation on politics, cover-ups, the feds run its course.
“There’s a connection,” Eve continued. “And we need to find it. I trust Mira’s profile. This isn’t about politics or grand agendas. But the UNSUB has some connection to Red Horse or the cover-up or the original creator of the chemical.
“Feeney, I’d like to use Detective Callendar, and whoever you feel is your best in this area to dig for that connection. We need solid e-skills on this. Records were spottily kept during the Urbans.”
“You’ll work with Nickson,” Feeney told Callendar.
“I’m all over it.”
“Anything to add from EDD, Feeney?”
“We don’t have much, and nothing that adds at this point.”
“Baxter?”
“Stewart, Adam. You’ve got him up there. Sister, Amie Stewart’s one of the vics.”
“Trust fund babies.” Eve flipped through her list of victims. “She was in-house legal for Dynamo. And he’s currently unemployed, and borrowing heavily from the trust.”
“We got some of that,” Baxter continued. “Plus he buzzed. He’s got something going. He’s off, Dallas. And he was jittery, trying to pull off the grieving sib, comfort the parents. It didn’t play. We earmarked him, too.”
“Bring him in. Toast him some.”
He gave her two more, another of which crossed with hers.
She called on Jenkinson and Reineke, got four with three crosses.
“Prioritize the board, Peabody. Stewart, Adam—connect to Stewart, Amie. Berkowitz, Ivan—connect to Quinz, Cherie. Callaway, Lewis—connect to Cattery, Joseph. Burke, Analisa—connect to Burke, John. McBride, Sean, connect to Garrison, Paul. Add Lester, Devon, manager of the bar, and Lester, Christopher, his brother, a chemist.
“These are the next wave of interviews. Work them. Dig in for a connection to the Red Horse cult, the cover-up. I want their financials and electronics gone over in detail. Peabody and I will take the Lesters.”
She handed out other assignments, legwork, drone work, to uniforms, scheduled a briefing at four.
Whitney stood. “We’ll issue a statement to the media this morning, and hold a media conference at thirteen hundred. I’ll need you to meet with the liaison, Lieutenant, in an hour.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Handpick two more uniforms or detectives to assist in the search for sources of the chemicals and illegals.
