“You’re okay with her.”
“I don’t know that I’ll ever be okay with anyone associated with HSO, but I can deal with her. You believe she had no prior knowledge of the formula.”
“Yeah. I do.”
“She’s a trained liar.”
“So am I. It rang true, Roarke. And it
She sat in silence a moment. “But we don’t have to be okay with HSO. Why should we? Maybe they’ve cleaned house, maybe they have. Good, fine. But we don’t have to be okay with what they did, not back in Dallas years ago, not here in New York last year. They can bite me.”
She took a long breath. “But I can work with Teasdale, at least for now, at least until I get a better sense of her. If you’re good with that, I’m good with it.”
Roarke took his hand off the wheel, covered hers. “Then we’re good.”
“Okay. Moving on. I’ve got to consider the Lesters. Too many connections, too many elements not to.” She ran through the high points of the interview quickly.
“Mass murderers want attention. They need to be important. Shock and awe, that’s the deal. Christopher Lester’s used to certain levels of attention, but he’s still a relatively small fish, right? No big, shiny international prizes. He makes piles of money, gets kudos from his peers, but he’s still, basically, a lab rat. Taking out over a hundred people in two days, with this method? That’s big and shiny. It’s the sort of thing that lives in, you know, infamy.”
“Wouldn’t he reach for the big and shiny with an antidote to the infection? Discovery, in his area.”
“Depends on how pissed off he is. Besides, nobody’s going to care much about the cure if they haven’t experienced or heard about the infection. If that’s not news, the cure isn’t news.”
“That’s a point.”
“The missing link is Red Horse, or a military source. I’m not going to buy he just stumbled on the same exact substance while dicking around in his lab.”
“Odds are a bit long on that.”
“And now we have the S&R trio. Weaver, Callaway, and Vann. Whistler looks clear—so far?”
“Whistler. Refresh me.”
“The suit who left the bar at the same time as Callaway—same company, different department. He’s Sales. I’ve read his statement. Left with an oncoming headache, went home, and that’s verified, to his wife and six- month-old baby. He’s three weeks into a big, fat raise and promotion. He doesn’t fit for me.”
“Lucky for Whistler, and likely his mother?”
“What? Why?”
“Weak joke. So back to your corporate trio.”
“Right. S&R lost people in both incidents, a chunk of them in Weaver’s department. And, so far, they’re the only ones from those offices who’ve contacted me directly—twice now for two of them—and asked for a meeting.”
“A way to get information and attention.”
“Four suits walk into a bar.”
“And what’s your punch line?”
She angled toward Roarke. “Only three walk out. The thing is, if I’m one of the four, the target’s more likely to be Vann. He’s rich and connected. He breezes in while the others put in years. But he’s the one who walks out. If the statements were accurate, they all knew he’d only be there for a short time. So, if Cattery—the dead suit—was the, or even a, target—why? What do the other three—or one of them, possibly two of them—have to gain by offing Cattery? None of them could be sure any of their other coworkers would be there at the right time.”
“It may very well have been random. You know that.”
“I don’t like random.” She scowled out the window. “Random pisses me off.” She continued to frown as he turned into a lot. “You could’ve grabbed some curb. I can put the On Duty light on.”
“A short walk won’t hurt either of us.”
More time to think, she decided when she got out of the car. “I’m going to spend some time with Joseph Cattery tonight. See what I see.”
“Spend a moment with me now.” He pulled her in for a kiss, laughing when she nudged him back. “Your On Duty light isn’t on, Lieutenant.”
“It just doesn’t show.”
She studied the towering steel and glass building as they walked, and the way it caught the red gleam of the lowering sun.
“A long way to the top,” she considered. “Lots of rungs to climb, hours to put in, hands to shake and palms to grease.”
“So it is in the world of business.”
“That’s why you’re handy to have along. You know the ins and outs, the slippery corners. They’re marketing people, right? So they’re always selling something.”
“Including themselves,” he agreed. “It’s not only selling the product, showing it in the best and most creative light, but hyping themselves as the ones with the best ideas, the freshest angles, the most muscular follow- through.”
“I get it, as a theory anyway. They’re coworkers, and there’s a pecking order. But they’re competitors, too. It’s not just other firms they compete against.”
“Exactly. There’d be accounts, prestige, and bonuses at stake. A daily race.”
“Could be one of them decided to narrow the field. But it’s not that simple.” She argued with herself, struggling to focus the picture. “There are easier ways to do that. This is ego, anger, cruelty, and a complete disregard for humanity—more for people he sees every day.”
They went inside, crossed the wide lobby to the security desk.
“Lieutenant Dallas,” Eve said, holding up her badge, “and consultant, for Weaver, Callaway, and Vann— Stevenson and Reede.”
“You’ve been cleared, Lieutenant. Ms. Weaver’s expecting you. Elevators to the right. Forty-three West. I’ll let them know you’re on your way.”
With Roarke, Eve stepped into the elevator. “Forty-three West,” she ordered. “He didn’t ask for your ID. Weaver told him to expect me and a partner. She’s assuming Peabody.”
“I’ll try to be half as charming.”
“No charm, pal. You’re aloof. You’re not just a boss, you’re a megaboss. People like this aren’t worth your notice. I’m doing my duty. Follow-ups are routine. I intro you as consultant, but it’s clear you’re just here because we’re on our way home. You’re bored.”
Enjoying her, he smiled. “Am I?”
“You have planets to buy, minions to intimidate.”
“Well, now I am bored. I’ve already done all that today.”
“Then it won’t be hard to pretend to do it all again. Be scary Roarke-lite.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know what I mean. I don’t want them to piss themselves. I just want them off balance. Here we go.”
Nancy Weaver stepped forward as the elevator doors opened, then stopped short, eyes widening on Roarke.
Eve thought:
“Yes, of course. Thank you for coming, and so quickly.” She offered her hand to Roarke. “I was expecting the other detective.”
“Detective Peabody is handling another area of the investigation at this time,” Eve said as Roarke offered Weaver a cool nod and hand-shake. “You said Mr. Vann is also present for this follow-up.”
“Yes, Steve and Lew are waiting in the small conference room. Just this way.”
Weaver wore black, Eve noted—except for the flashy red soles on her towering heels. She’d drawn her hair
