Delusion in Death

mother kept them.”
    “She spun him a bunch of lies. Menzini’s the hero, and MacMillon, who gave her forgiveness and took another man’s kid for his, the villain. And she counted on sentiment and loyalty—her half-sister’s for her, to keep her things, her papers, to believe she’d died trying to save the kid. Bitch. Peabody, get Baxter and Trueheart to the St. Regis bar, with a picture of Callaway. Maybe somebody remembers who he sat with on the date of the journal entry. It takes awhile to tell that story. Callendar, where else did they meet?”
    “Her place. He doesn’t say where it is. But he talks about her sending a limo to pick him up. Makes him feel like a BFD. The way he talked about it, driving along the river, the views from her place—totally fancied-out—it sounds Upper East Side. Doorman, big lobby, private elevator. So a condo. Oh, and he liked that she had droids—no live help.”
    “So she’s got money, or access to it. She sought him out. She’s got an agenda. She made him important, exactly what he wanted. She knew that. She knew which notes to play.”
    “She’s been studying him,” Teasdale put in.
    “It’s why the banking for the drugs, the equipment didn’t show on his financials. She’s fronting all that. She may have gotten the makings for him, may have sources there Strong couldn’t find. Outof the country, or deep down—some of her old contacts from Red Horse.”
    “Why, after all these years?”
    “Menzini died a few months ago, right? Maybe that was her trigger. I’ll ask her when I find her. She coached him, taught him. She lit the match.” As she calculated, Eve’s eyes narrowed, flattened. “He’s sitting down there now figuring out the best way to contact her. He’s got to figure his rich grandmother will buy him top lawyers, get him off. He’ll be thinking that.”
    “But she won’t,” Teasdale said.
    “No, hell no. He’s caught. No more use to her. Did Menzini’s death start this?” Eve wondered. “Is this some kind of revenge on her part? Or maybe a tribute. Fuck it.” She pushed her hands through her hair.
    “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