Delusion in Death (In Death 35)

“We did an aging program,” Feeney told her. “We’ve got what she should look like now, but—”

“She’d have changed her face,” Eve finished. “A long time ago.

She faked her own death, she can’t keep the same face. She’ll have heard we’ve got him. Will she worry he’ll give her up?”

“Why didn’t he?” Teasdale demanded, and for the first time since Eve met her, the agent looked mildly distressed. “It would have given him a bargaining chip.”

“He’s smart enough to know that, and to keep that chip in his pocket. If she doesn’t come through for him, buy his way out, he’ll roll on her.”

“She’ll poof. Not your fault,” McNab said to Callendar. “Just bad luck. But she’s got the money and resources, so she’ll blow.”

“Start running any and all private shuttles booked or alerted for flight prep since the media conference. Let’s start running high-dollar condos, Upper East, riverview, fancy lobby, doorman.”

“With a terrace,” Callendar called out. “I’ve got them having drinks on her terrace—facing east. He can see Roosevelt Island.”

“She can’t help him,” Teasdale pointed out. “If she tries, we’ll have her. If she doesn’t we still have him. HSO will certainly use all resources to locate her, but I don’t understand the urgency.”

“She’s got the formula.”

“I suspect she’s had it all along, or enough of it with this much time, and the financial backing, she certainly could have created and used it before this.”

“We’ve just given her a reason to use it.”

“For him?” Teasdale shook her head. “I don’t believe she has that much sentiment in her.”

“Menzini’s dead. The daughter’s useless to her. Nothing to her. But the grandson? He’s her legacy. He’s shown her, twice, he has Menzini in him. She can’t get to him, so she’s going to want payback. Shit, shit!” Eve yanked out her ’link. “Weaver and Vann. Maybe she’ll want to finish what he started.”

She got Weaver’s voice mail, left an urgent message, but managed to reach Vann.

“Lieutenant. We heard about Lew. I can’t believe—”

“Where are you?” she demanded.

“At home. We closed the offices, and—”

“Stay there. Don’t answer the door until my officers get there.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to. Stay inside, door secure. Where’s Weaver?”

“I’m not sure. She was upset, naturally. I assume she went home.”

“Stay inside,” she repeated, then tagged Jenkinson. “Get over to Stevenson Vann’s apartment. Keep it in lockdown until I say different. Nobody in, nobody out. Send Sanchez and Carmichael over to Nancy Weaver’s. If she’s home, keep her there. If she’s not, I need to know. Go now.”

She went straight to Whitney when he came inside. “I need Mira and Reo secured. As well as Chief Tibble and yourself, sir. Gina MacMillon may target the people who took down her grandson.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“What do we know about her?” Eve demanded. “Attractive woman in her late seventies, early eighties. Wealthy. Patient. Jesus, she’s like a spider. A trained soldier. More, a kind of operative. Could she have made contact with Menzini while he was alive?”

“I can’t say.” Again, Teasdale looked mildly distressed. “I would doubt it.”

“Why wasn’t he executed? They still did that back then. He was a war criminal, a mass murderer, a child abductor, a rapist. Name it.”

“My guess? He was useful.”

“Making chemical and bio weapons?”