Delusion in Death

tank, his long blond wig askew, went airborne.
    He shouted, “Woo-hoo!”
    He hit the floor with a bone-rattling thud, skidded—taking out another line of bystanders, then smacked the wall with an audible crack.
    He lay, eyes glassy, erection spearing up like a monument.
    “For Christ’s sake, cover that thing up,” Eve ordered. “He could put somebody’s eye out.”
    In the ensuing rush, she nipped onto the elevator, ordered the garage as Roarke stepped in beside her.

    “Nice,” she decided. “You hardly ever get an empty car to the garage.”
    “We owe it all to a three-hundred-pound flasher.”
    “More like two-eighty, but yeah.” She rolled her shoulders. “Anyway, it gave me a little boost.”
    “It would as kicking ass is your drug of choice.”
    “Maybe, but I only tripped him. No time to kick a naked flasher’s ass right now.”
    “There’ll be others, darling.”
    “Something to look forward to.”
    She got off the elevator, headed straight to her vehicle slot. “You talk first.”
    “All right then.” He slid behind the wheel, spared her a quick look before he wound his way out of the garage, punched out into traffic. “Teasdale has an impressive background. Her father was U.S. Air Force, retired as a major general. Her mother served as an assistant Secretary of State. She traveled considerably as a child, speaks several languages, excelled in her schooling. She was recruited by HSO while at university, but didn’t officially join until she’d completed her advanced degrees.”
    “Officially?”
    “Officially,” he confirmed. “She was an operative at the tender age of twenty-three—unofficially. And she’s quietly, steadily risen up the ranks. She worked with Hurtz on the investigation of Bissel, and in fact, gathered the lion’s share of intel and evidence against him and others involved—though her part in that business was, again, what we’ll call unofficial.”
    “Okay. Just give me your take on her.”
    “She’s brilliant, dedicated, ambitious, and though your styles appearto be polar opposites, she’s quite like you. In that she doesn’t give up, can’t be bought, and appears to believe in both the rule and the spirit of law.”
    “You’re okay with her.”
    “I don’t know that I’ll ever be okay with anyone associated with HSO, but I can deal with her. You believe she had no prior knowledge of the formula.”
    “Yeah. I do.”
    “She’s a trained liar.”
    “So am I. It rang true, Roarke. And it feels true that when and if HSO got anything on this back during the Urbans, they covered and/ or destroyed. Made it disappear.”
    She sat in silence a moment. “But we don’t have to be okay with HSO. Why should we? Maybe they’ve cleaned house, maybe they have. Good, fine. But we don’t have to be okay with what they did, not back in Dallas years ago, not here in New York last year. They can bite me.”
    She took a long breath. “But I can work with Teasdale, at least for now, at least until I get a better sense of her. If you’re good with that, I’m good with it.”
    Roarke took his hand off the wheel, covered hers. “Then we’re good.”
    “Okay. Moving on. I’ve got to consider the Lesters. Too many connections, too many elements not to.” She ran through the high points of the interview quickly.
    “Mass murderers want attention. They need to be important. Shock and awe, that’s the deal. Christopher Lester’s used to certain levels of attention, but he’s still a relatively small fish, right? No big, shiny international prizes. He makes piles of money, gets kudos fromhis peers, but he’s still, basically, a lab rat. Taking out over a hundred people in two days, with this method? That’s big and shiny. It’s the sort of thing that lives in, you know, infamy.”
    “Wouldn’t he reach for the big and shiny with an antidote to the infection? Discovery, in his area.”
    “Depends on how pissed off he is. Besides, nobody’s going to care much about the cure if they haven’t experienced or heard about the infection. If that’s not news, the cure isn’t news.”
    “That’s a point.”
    “The missing link is Red Horse, or a military source. I’m not going to buy he just stumbled on the same exact substance while dicking around in his lab.”
    “Odds are a bit long on that.”
    “And now we have the S&R trio. Weaver, Callaway, and Vann. Whistler looks clear—so far?”
    “Whistler. Refresh me.”
    “The suit who left the bar