Delusion in Death (In Death 35)

“He had no children on record,” Summerset continued, “but witness reports—including those of recovered children his sect and others abducted, state he had many—though it’s not verified if they were biological offspring, or abductees he’d taken as his own. There were others like him, and others with more followers, more power. He wasn’t considered a to

p priority, though there were attempts to capture or assassinate. Again, according to reports—reports that were and are carefully buried, one of the assassination attempts resulted in the deaths of five children. Two months after that, the café outside of London was attacked. He became a top priority.”

“Sometimes late’s as bad as never.”

Summerset studied Eve as he sipped his wine. “To say the world was in disarray is the least of it. Looting, burning, bombing, indiscriminate killings, rapes. At first it seemed the police and the military would quell it, all would right again. People locked themselves in their homes or fled to the countryside to wait it out. But they didn’t quell it, and it didn’t right again, not for a very long time. It became a tidal wave of rage and violence that wouldn’t be stopped.”

Summerset paused a moment, sipped his wine. “I’m told he was a small man—a gnat as it were—compared to others who sought to destroy.”

“Gnats need to be swatted.”

“I agree, but there were so many more, so much more organized. There are always those who wait and plan for just such a thing. There were armies that attacked strategically—military bases, communications, food and water supplies—much more so than Menzini or other Red Horse sects. They thought they would win, but in the end, they too were engulfed in that wave. What you’ve seen these last two days? Imagine it everywhere, the bodies and blood, the waste, the fear and panic. The law broke under it. There weren’t many like you who stood between the guilty and the innocent—and neither were easy to recognize for a time. For too long a time. You’re too young, both of you, to have known it. Be grateful.”

“I know some who stood, like you. They rarely, if ever, talk about it.”

“There aren’t words.” He looked thinner, if possible, as he spoke, Eve thought. Paler. Bad memories, she knew, could carve you out.

“What they teach, what they wrote? It’s pale and soft compared to the reality of it. What you’ve seen the last two days? There are some of us who were there at the beginning of it, those of us who remember. I remember,” he murmured, “and I’m afraid.”

She hadn’t expected him to say it, hadn’t expected to see it. She spoke to him now as she would to a victim. “This isn’t a movement or a war. It’s a man with a weapon who wants your fear, your attention. I think I know him, that I’ve spoken to him, that I’ve looked in his eyes. I’m going to stop him.”

“I believe you will. I have to believe it.” He took a slow breath, sipped again. “The details of his apprehension after the attack in Rome aren’t just buried. Much of the data was destroyed. What I learned can’t be confirmed. Menzini created the substance, but did not, in fact, deliver it personally. He created it, selected the two targets, gave the order, but he used two women—girls. His own children, if you will, sent by him on a suicide mission. Each took a vial of the substance into the location, released it, and under his orders remained so they were also infected.”

“Girls. You’re sure?”

“It can’t be confirmed.”

“You know if it’s true?”

“I believe it to be true.”

“That’s good enough for me.”

“You said you knew him. What is his name?”

“I said I think,” she corrected. “I have three suspects, viable to me—if I’m pursuing the right angle. Even if I’m right, I can’t prove it. I’m missing essential connections.”

“You know which of the three. I want to know his name. I want his name in my head so I can say it when you stop him.”

“His name’s Lewis Callaway, but—”

“That’s good enough for me.”

He tossed her own response back at her so casually, she couldn’t think what to say. When her pocket ’link signaled, she considered it a reprieve.

“It’s Nadine. I need to take this upstairs. Dallas,” she said in answer. “Wait.” She thought of what she probably should say. “Lewis Callaway,” she repeated. “He’s a coward. It used to surprise me how many killers are cowards. We’re going to stop him. Everything you told me yesterday, everything you told me now is going to help us make the connection, make the case that’s going to put him away for every minute he has left in his sick, cowardly life. So you can forget him. Macie Snyder, Jeni Curve. Those are the two women he used to do his killing, and not under his orders. They didn’t even know. If you need to have a name in your head, put theirs in it. They’re the ones who matter.”

She turned, switching her ’link off hold as she went. “Nadine. Go.”

Roarke rose, topped off Summerset’s wine. “This may be a record.”

“What would be a record?”

“You and Eve having an actual conversation without sniping at each other, two days running.”

“Ah well.” Summerset let out a sigh. “I expect the lieutenant and I will be back to normal shortly—to our mutual relief.”

“You need food and rest.”