Leverage in Death (In Death 47)

“He’s lost his partner,” Roarke pointed out.

“It won’t stop him. And without Iler, there’s nothing to stop him from killing the wife and kid of the next target.” She dragged her hands through her hair.

“He wired the place, hoped to blow some of us up. Failed. Blew up his data, but we may get something out of it. Eventually. He must’ve had a meet spot with Iler. A time and place, but Iler didn’t show. He has to know we have Iler.”

“More inclined to run then.”

“No, no, no. More inclined to finish. He’s volatile. Why the fucking hell take time to blow up the whole damn house? He didn’t use ninety percent of it, but Salazar said it was wired top to bottom. He only needed to blow his data, his records.”

“Well, he’s a madman.”

“He’s a madman, and the brother of his brother’s in a cage. That may mean the access to at least some of the money’s compromised. The money, that’s Iler’s area. Iler had the painting on him when we took him, half a million in cash, and the codes and IDs for three accounts.

“He’s got to finish it, do the next at least the next. Cash in, cash out. Look, we’ve got to split this after all. I need you to go to Iler’s, see what you can do to find that trail. I wanted to let him sweat a few more hours, but I have to start working him. I need to get him in the box.”

“All right. I’ll grab a ride with Feeney.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep in touch.”

As she jogged downstairs, her ’link signaled a text.

Peabody, she noted, and scanned it on the move.

We’re here, and it’s already mag to the ex. But we want to know, just have to know—Did you get them?

Eve answered fast and brief. Iler’s in a cage, about to go in the box. ID’d the partner, working on bagging him. Too busy for details.

Peabody’s response came in seconds. You’ll break Iler like a twig. Let me know when number two’s in the bag.

Eve shoved her ’link in her pocket, and prepared to break Iler like a twig.

* * *

He’d lawyered up, but she’d expected it. She knew Richard Singa, the high-dollar criminal attorney, had faced off with him before.

Iler sat silent and smug—from

the smirk—when she came into Interview with Baxter.

“Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and Baxter, Detective David, entering interview with Iler, Lucius, and his legal counsel on the matter of case files H-32019, H-32024, H-32029, and related matters.”

She sat, folded her hands on those case files. “Mr. Iler, have you been read your rights?”

Singa lifted a finger. “We acknowledge my client was properly Mirandized.”

“Mr. Iler, you’ve been charged with conspiracy to murder, first-degree, eighteen counts, possession of and intent to use explosive devices to cause physical harm, enforced imprisonment, six counts, accessory to assault, four counts, endangering a minor, two counts, and various charges of fraud, tax evasion, breaking and entering—”

“Lieutenant.” Now Singa lifted both hands, peered at her with dark eyes over a broad nose. “Obviously my client not only disputes all charges, but was, as we all know, nowhere near the scene of the tragedies at Quantum headquarters or the Salon gallery. And as the security in your own husband’s apartment building must clearly show, he did not leave his own residence on the night of Jordan Banks’s murder. Therefore, I must insist we dispense with this absurdity.”

“Has your client informed you by which method he attempted to elude arrest?”

Singa’s gaze remained direct and dispassionate. “While my client’s practice of climbing and belaying was unwise in that particular location, you have no evidence this was an attempt to elude. Mr. Iler had no reason to expect arrest as he’s committed no crime.”

“He had the artwork he stole from Banks’s apartment in his possession.”

“My client maintains he purchased the artwork from Mr. Banks.”

“So he’ll provide a receipt for the purchase?”