Delusion in Death

grandmother. Mine still makes the world’s best apple pie.”
    “She’s nobody’s pie-making granny. Let’s go.”
    Lowenbaum’s men had the lobby secure, and empty. Roarke shut down elevators one by one as teams reported positions.
    “You don’t have body armor, LT.” Trueheart started to remove his own to give her.
    “Keep it. I’ve got a magic coat.”
    As Trueheart started to speak, Peabody nodded at him. “Seriously. She does.”
    “Okay, cut the chatter.” She stepped off with Trueheart and Roarke into a white and gold foyer, pointed at the ceiling before the doors shut on Peabody, Baxter, and the other men. Pointed Trueheart in the direction of 5204. She shook her head when a SWAT guy stepped forward with a battering ram, pointed to Roarke.
    He studied the locks as he drew out his picks.
    Lowenbaum grinned again when the locks quietly gave way.
    Again she nodded at Roarke, then held up three fingers. Two. One.
    They hit the door hard. She went low, Roarke high, splitting off as SWAT rushed in behind them. “Get those terrace doors open!” She’d cleared the living area before she spotted the droid on the floor of a wide dining room.
    She could smell the electrical burn in the air, noted the fried circuits spilling out of the back of the head of what had been a domestic droid.

    Too late, she thought. They were too late. And she saw the proof of it when she, leading with her weapon, moved into a large kitchen done in soft green and golds.
    She hadn’t bothered to tidy up, Eve noted, but had left the burners and tubes, the conductors and jars in plain view.
    She’d been cooking—and she hadn’t made any damn pies.
    She heard the calls of “Clear!” ringing out. Yeah, it’s clear , she thought. She’s cleared out, and taken her poison with her .
    Roarke came in behind her. “I count two droids, both with their circuits destroyed. An empty safe, left open.”
    “She left this out for us to find. A big fuck-you.” She shoved her weapon back in its holster. “She’s got money, fake ID, and I’m damn sure the means and contacts to change her face. She’s either out of the city, or holed up until she can shift appearance and ID.”
    “Maintenance exit,” Roarke concluded. “She slipped out that way. Either undetected or she greased a palm or two on the way.”
    “Her shuttle’s locked down. She can’t get out that way.” She yanked out her ’link. “McNab, have you located MacMillon’s other vehicles?”
    “We have both locked, Dallas. What—”
    “She’s blown. Hold. Alert your security on the families and apartments,” Eve told Roarke. “We’re going to go over every inch of this place. McNab, I need men on all Biotech facilities in New York and New Jersey. Get e-men on it, check all security discs for any sighting of the suspect. She’s to be considered armed and dangerous.”
    She replaced her ’link. “She didn’t have much time here. I gave her more, just a little more by giving Nadine the heads up on an arrest. Damn it. Fuck it. How much did she make? Why? Why not just blow?”
    She began to pace. “She could’ve walked straight out the front. Shedidn’t. She wanted us to waste time, setting this up, assuming she was inside. But that cost her time. Time she couldn’t spend getting on her shuttle and getting away. Now we’ve locked down her vehicles, frozen her accounts.”
    “I suspect she has ready funds buried.”
    “Yeah, but she took this time instead of running.”
    “She’s not ready to get out of New York.”
    “She has a target. Something big. The mayor—she’d never get near Gracie Mansion, not today. Cop Central—same deal. She has to know security has her face.”
    Peabody walked in. “It looks like she might’ve packed a few things. Jewelry, I think. There’s an empty safe in the master bed-room, and some signs she, or somebody, went through the closet in a hurry.”
    “She figures on getting away. She took valuables, clothes. You don’t bother with that unless you believe you’ll need them.”
    “It doesn’t feel right she’d just leave her grandson,” Peabody said. “Just take off, leave him swinging.”
    “She doesn’t give a rat’s ass about him when push comes to bigger push. It’s about the principle, the mission. About Menzini.”
    “I think she does care about Callaway. She’s got a picture of him framed on her dresser. And there’s one of the two of them in the second bedroom—some men’s clothes in there,