“When was the last time she contacted you?”
“Three weeks ago. I don't know where she is, and if I did I wouldn't tell you, for the same reasons I said nothing after the abduction. We've made a life here. We have two sons now, and they're happy. This is their home. And still, we live in a prison because of this one man. I'm afraid every day, every single day.”
“We're going to find him, Roxanne, and when we do, you won't have to be afraid again. Tell me about the room where they held you,” Peabody said. “Every detail you remember.”
19
EVE WAS BACK AT HER DESK WHEN ROARKE CAME into her office. He immediately sniffed the air.
“You had a burger?”
“What? No. Baxter, Trueheart. Let cops loose near food, it's a freeforall. They'd want a place in the city, wouldn't they?”
“Baxter and Trueheart? Is there something about their relationship I've missed?”
“What?”
“You keep saying that. You need to eat.”
Her mind cleared slightly as he moved into the kitchen. “I'm not talking about Baxter and Trueheart.”
“I'm perfectly aware of that. And yes, I agree. Kirkendall and associates would want a place in the city. Why risk running into pesky commuter traffic, or pesky commuter traffic cops?”
“I bet it's Upper West.”
“We agree again.” He came back in with two plates, and this time Eve sniffed the air. “What is that?”
“Lasagna.” Veggie lasagna, he thought. One of the easiest ways to get something green in her system that wasn't a gumdrop was to disguise it in pasta.
“Why do you agree? About the Upper West?”
He set one of the plates in front of her, the other across the desk. Then went to get a chair, and two glasses of wine. When a man wanted to eat a meal with his wife, and his wife was Eve, Roarke thought, the man learned to make adjustments.
“Considerable time and effort went into casing out the Swisher property. Not only the electronics, but lifestyle. They knew where to go and when to go. So-”
He set her wine down, tapped his glass against it, then sat. “More efficient to have a location near the target point. You can do drivebys, walk-bys, test your jammers and so on against their system. And you'd want to watch them.”
She watched him as she cut into the lasagna. “Because you'd want to see them alive before you saw them dead.”
“Oh yes. It's personal. So though the kill is clean and quick, you'd want the rush beforehand. Look at them, they don't know I have the power to end them. When and how I like.”
“It's a little strange being hooked up with someone who can think that much like a killer.”
He lifted his glass to her. “I'll say precisely the same. And make a considerable wager that your thoughts ran parallel to mine.”
“Yeah, you win.” She sampled the lasagna. Something in there tasted like spinach. But it wasn't half bad. “You come up with anything for me?”
“I'm a little hurt you'd have to ask. Eat first. You've heard from Peabody?”
“They're on their way back. Want to hear the roundup?”
“Of course.”
She told him while they ate.
“Torturing a pregnant woman,” Roarke commented. “Lower and lower. But he should've killed her, in hindsight. It seems his long suffering wife learned enough from him to keep her location-more likely locations, as she'd be smarter to move every few months at least- from everyone. He kept the sister alive assuming that his wife would, at some point, run to her family.”
“Then they'd all be dispensable. I really want this guy.”
This time Roarke reached over, laid a hand on hers. “I know.”
“Do you? He's not like my father. There's a world of difference, but somehow they're exactly the same.”
“Brutalizing his children, day after day. Training them in his own sick fashion. Breaking their spirit, destroying their innocence, driving a young boy to contemplate suicide. The difference between him and your father, Eve, is Kirkendall has more skill, more training, and a sharper brain. But inside, they couldn't be more alike.”
It helped that he saw that, and understood why her mind kept circling around it. “I have to get past it, or I'll mess up. Location.” She nodded toward the map on her screen. “Lots of prime property Upper West. Have to be solo occupants. He can afford it. All those hefty fees, combined with his brother's hefty fees-and possibly Isenberry's. Investments like the dojo show me he likes business, making money from money. Yeah, he's plush. You have any luck with the money?”
“Again, my sensitive feelings are bruised.”
“You can take a punch, ace. Let me have it.”
He merely sent a meaningful glance at the food still on her plate.
“Jeez.” She forked up a huge bite, stuffed it in. “Spill.”
“He has what we'll call his dumping account, which coordinates with the profits from the dojo. Hefty, but not enough to finance this sort of operation.”
“So he's got other accounts.”
“Has to. He doesn't dip into this one, just dumps the funds, and his personal data on it leads to a law firm out of Eden.”
“Eden? Like the garden thereof?”
“Based on. A manmade island in the South Pacific created ostensibly for recreation and in reality for tax evasion, money laundering. It takes considerable doing to get past the legal blocks there to gain information. And it takes considerable funds to open accounts there, or utilize any of their legal protection.”
“You've used it.”
“Actually, I helped create it. Before I saw the light of truth and justice.” He grinned when she just stared at him. “I sold out my interests there before we were married. However, since I did have some part in the design, I have ways of getting to information. Kirkendall's covered himself very well. His law firm there leads to an off-planet financial firm, which leads- Do you want to hear all this?”
“Bottom-line it for now.”
“It all circles back to other numbered accounts. Five. All very plush indeed, and all under various aliases. The most interesting is one with a single deposit of just under twenty million.”
“That's million? Two-oh.”
“A tad under. But doing the math, that's well over and above any of the recorded fees I've found so far-that is, including the other accounts, which jibe with those fees, and expenses.”
“He hired out to more than sanctioned U.S. agencies.”
“There will be other accounts, I haven't swept them all up yet. It's going to take some time. But this account is interesting for a couple of reasons. The lump-sum deposit, for one. Have a look at this.”
He drew a disc out of his pocket, plugged it in her unit himself. “Data onscreen.”
Eve skimmed the data-another CIA file on Kirkendall. “Subject is considered nonsecure. Get them,” she muttered. “Train yourself a killer, then oops, he's no longer secure. Last psych eval, eighteen months ago. Sociopathic tendencies-another huge surprise. Suspected ties to Doomsday-and the big surprises keep rolling. Suspected ties to… Cassandra.”
Doomsday Group, she thought. Techno-terrorist organization she'd brushed up against, by default, on a recent case. But Cassandra, they'd been more flexible in the terrorist game, and her involvement with them the year before much more personal.
They'd nearly killed her, and Roarke, in their quest to destroy New York's landmarks. Took out a couple, too, she remembered with some bitterness, before she'd put the hurt on the ring leaders.
“And the bell rings. They were keeping him active as much to watch him as to utilize his skills. Look at the dates.” Roarke gestured with his fork. “When they lost him. When he went rogue according to both this file and the one I dug out of Homeland-which also coordinates with the same entries on his brother's file and Isenberry's.”