Chapter Fifteen #2
She glanced back again. “I know what his family’s going through, and I hope they found some comfort here. I need to find mine in my own way, my own time.”
“I hope you do.”
“So do I,” she said as she walked out. “So do I.”
“Do you want to speak to the family?” Peabody asked her.
“No, they don’t know anything, and we’d just have to give them the usual line. The investigation’s active, ongoing, pursuing any and all leads. However true, it’s not much fucking comfort.”
“That picture they put up, Redman and his family. Jesus.”
“Yeah, they don’t have a clue. But he does,” Eve added, as Wyst, with the bodyguards, started toward the door.
“Lieutenant, Detective, I see you have time to visit a memorial and watch a family grieve.”
“Yeah, you, too.”
If he stiffened another inch, Eve calculated, he’d crack.
“Larry Chu was deeply valued by my company, and a personal friend.”
“So you said. How about Ezra Dent? Valued, a personal friend? Then there’s Carlos Cruz.”
She saw the shock; she saw the fear.
“Plan to attend his memorial?”
“You understand nothing.” He said it between gritted teeth. “You know nothing.”
“I know you came to Chu’s memorial flanked by two bodyguards. Worried for your personal safety? You’ve got reason to be. We both know and understand that. I can keep you alive. All that takes is a straightforward conversation.”
His gaze bored holes through her, or tried. The fresh sweat beading on his forehead spoiled the aim.
“Step aside.”
“Your choice,” she said as she did so. “You can try to leave the city, leave the country, leave the freaking planet. He’ll find you. You better hope we have that conversation before he does.”
As they left, Peabody shook her head. “He still thinks his money, his position, his all that insulates him. But that’s starting to crack.”
“He’ll run,” Eve said. “He needs to make sure he’s covered up whatever needs covering, arranges whatever needs arranging, then he’ll run and hide somewhere until we have Redman.
“He’s a coward,” Eve added as they walked back down the hall to the stairs. “But he’s a greedy one, a self-important one. He doesn’t want to give up what he’s got. The fortune, the power, the shine.”
“He needs to protect that,” Peabody agreed, “and figures bodyguards, security, and the NYPSD he just sneered at will take care of the rest.”
“Whatever we think of him, we want him alive. That goes for Banner, too. He didn’t show here. I think it’s time we go to him.”
Whatever luck she’d found on the drive to Central earlier deserted her on the trip to Long Island.
“Shit, shit. We could shuttle to Europe by the time we get across this bridge.”
“Could’ve taken a copter. Roarke would provide. How about some coffee? Maybe a snack?”
“I’m not hitting Roarke up for a copter every time I have to get to freaking Long Island for an interview with an asshole. Check in with EDD, see if they’re getting anywhere.”
Or she might tag Roarke for that one.
Peabody programmed coffee, added some chips before she tagged McNab.
Since Eve didn’t, Peabody opened her partner’s bag of chips. “These are good. Yours are the extra salty ones. McNab says they think they’re making some headway. Cruz’s code mixes up English, Spanish, and they think Hungarian.”
“What the fuck?”
“His maternal grandmother’s Hungarian. The problem is, he just—Cruz just—tossed it all around like confetti.
Still, they’ve nailed down two other jobs.
If he wasn’t dead, we’d have him. They haven’t found the Banner-Wyst connection yet, but he said—or he said Feeney said—they’re plowing the fucked-up road. ”
“Okay, progress. Okay.” Eve dug into the chips.
They were good. And extra salty.
Frustrated, she hit vertical so abruptly Peabody nearly bobbled her coffee. But she made some progress herself.
Her in-dash signaled Nadine.
“Nadine, I’m mired in fucking traffic, so—”
“Then it sounds like you have time to hear this, and you’ll want to. I’ve made a couple of contacts.”
“Who?”
“Anonymous sources, Dallas, my word or they wouldn’t talk to me. Neither still work for Banner-Wyst, both left of their own volition. One three years ago, one last year.”
“Where are they?”
“Dallas, push that aside for now. Both left for similar reasons. They didn’t like the company’s policies, or what they were seeing, hearing.”
“Which was?”
“I think you’ll be most interested in this one. A high-security section in the New York labs, restricted. Wyst, Banner—on the rare occasions he came in—Chu, Dent, and a Lucia Delgato. Project chief, transferred in from their labs in Spain about fourteen years ago.”
“Tell me this much. How long did each of your sources work for the company?”
“One for four years, the other three. It didn’t suit them.”
Well after Redman, Eve thought.
“We interviewed everyone in Chu’s lab, and more. That name—Delgato—doesn’t ring.”
“Because she doesn’t work for the company anymore, since she died in the Pyrenees three months ago. Prior to that? She actually ran whatever went on in the restricted section, according to my sources.”
“Run her background, Peabody. How did she die?”
“The local authorities determined accidental. A climbing accident where she fell to her death. My sources, and my reach, can’t get me the official report.”
Nadine paused with a feral look in those cat eyes.
“Yet. But my sources both claim they heard the fall had busted her up beyond recognition. And that’s before the animals got to her.”
In the passenger seat, Peabody let out a soft Oog.
“She had no family,” Nadine continued, “so the company arranged for her remains to be cremated in Spain. My sources still have some friends in the company, and that’s the dish. Also that, so far, she hasn’t been replaced, though whatever’s going on in there still remains active.”
“You’re right. I did want to hear this.”
“I’m also told she wasn’t well liked. Cold, unfriendly, prone to berating colleagues and other staff. And though Lawrence Chu was director, if Delgato snapped her fingers, he came running.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Thanks back. Before this is done I’m going to have a hell of a story. I could send you the background data I have on her, but since Peabody’s already doing that, I’m getting back to work.”
“Me, too. Later. Peabody.”
“Lucia Delgato, age fifty-nine at the time of her death. Female of Spanish, Italian, and Mexican origins. No marriages, no cohabs, no sibs or offspring. Parents died when she was thirty—small plane crash. Lots of educational stuff.”
“Skip that for now.”
“Started working for Banner-Wyst, based in Madrid, at the age of twenty-five. Bioscience and engineering, specializing in environmental studies, climatology. Transferred to the New York offices as project chief/manager in January of 2048.”
“She’d have worked with Redman, at least a few months. What was she doing in the Pyrenees?”
“Apparently falling off a mountain. Or, you’re thinking, and me, too, getting tossed off one.”
“He hunted her down there. He killed her first. I figured he killed Chu first because they were friends, or Redman thought they were. But he took her first because she was in charge, brought in to take charge maybe. Because whatever it was, he held her directly responsible.”
“Still digging,” Peabody muttered, and only glanced up for a minute. “Hey, we made it to Long Island.”
“Keep digging. He killed her first. He went out of the country to do it. Look for a connection, any connection, to Cruz.”