Betrayal in Death (In Death #12)(85)

"The Palace Hotel. Darlene French. Roarke. Magda Lane. The brownstone uptown. Jonah Talbot. Roarke. Magda Lane. The victim was involved in publication projects on Lane. The merchandise currently displayed, The Palace Hotel, and about to go on the block is potentially worth upwards of one billion. Naples is a thief with a widespread com network behind him. Hinrick is a smuggler with what is reputed to be one of the best transfer and transpo organizations. Gerade just strikes me as greedy."

"It's the greedy ones you gotta watch," Feeney commented.

"Agreed. Speculation. What if the business in Paris between these three men had to do with a plan to heist the auction merchandise? Winifred sees or hears something off. She was a smart woman. She attempted to contact her friend in the FBI but was killed before that connection was made."

"Why hire Yost to kill a couple of bystanders in New York?" McNab crossed his legs. It was the first sentence he'd uttered during the briefing. Across the room, Peabody remained silent. "You do somebody on the site you plan to hit, it's going to beef up security."

"But we'd be looking for a killer. Not a thief. Shake up the staff by killing one of them in a brutal fashion, right in a guest room. Frustrate security by sliding right through them. Takes the mind and energy off the auction, puts it elsewhere. Then you hit again. Where does the investigation center? On who might have some kind of vendetta against Roarke. That was the motive we focused on. But what if it's not a vendetta. Or not that on the primary level. What if it's just profit?"

"It's got potential." Feeney pursed his lips. "But why bring Gerade into the mix? I don't see as he's got anything to offer."

Her smile was thin and sharp as she brought up her adjusted chart, one she'd finished compiling at three a.m. that morning. "Look who happens to be one of Dominic II's and Gerade's playmates. Vincent Lane, Magda's son. They've been running around together since their early twenties."

"Son of a bitch." Feeney punched the uncharacteristically silent McNab on the shoulder. "Son of a bitch."

"Yeah, I got a nice thrill out of it, too," Eve said and did her best to block out the deliberate way the young e-detective and her aide were ignoring each other. "Lane contributed to Dominic's liaison campaign, and often visits Delta Colony. Both Dominic II and Gerade invested in Lane's short-lived production company. Link by link," Eve said, "I think we've got a real chain going here. To pull off a heist of this size and complexity, you need a man on the inside. Vince Lane's as inside as they come."

"He's going to steal from his own mother." Peabody spoke now, mildly outraged. "And kill to do it?"

"He's a financial f**k-up," Eve told her. "Over the years he's put together and begun to put together dozens of schemes and projects. He's pissed away his trust fund, run through the setup costs his mother gave him, twice, for businesses. He's borrowed from her to pay off loans and I imagine a few spine-crackers, too. But for the past fourteen months, he's been a very good boy, working for Mama. She pays him a ridiculous salary according to their financials, but he's all but dead broke. His expenses go directly to Carlton Mince, her financial advisor. I intend to talk to him, and to Lane. Carefully. I don't want Lane alerting anyone, Magda included, that I'm looking at him on this."

She stopped, coming to attention when Whitney came in. She'd already sent a full update and all data to him earlier that morning.

He glanced at the wall screen, judged where she was in her briefing, then took a seat. "Continue, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir. Peabody and I will do a dropby on Mince and Lane at the hotel. Feeney, if you could use your connections through the IRCCA. As we've said, it's probable the other agencies already have this data on Naples. And they may have more. If they do, no matter how speculative, do what you can to convince them to reach out. McNab, see the head of the event's security at The Palace. Roarke will have already alerted him, but I want you to follow up. You're his general dogsbody until this is over. You'll be provided with complete dossiers on everyone involved in the security. Get to know and love them. I want the NYPSD and this team aware and apprised of every change, every step, every function of security at the hotel. A door guard has a butt rash, I want to know what kind. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Now, she drew a breath. "Commander?"

He had the faintest of smiles on his face. "Lieutenant?"

"I'd like to request that you use whatever weight you might deem appropriate with your connections in the FBI and East Washington. I want some elbow room, and Jacoby's not going to give it to me unless..." She trailed off before she finished the thought, which had to do with her shoving his head up his ass. "... without some directive. If I can have the room, and the cooperation to bring Sylvester Yost down, I'm willing to give the feds the collar."

"What! What!" Feeney was out of his chair, his face a furious red, his arms waving. "What the hell are you talking about? You don't give them dick, you hear? You've busted your balls on this, done all the work, got closer than anyone ever has to this bastard. Would've had him, too, if it wasn't for those ass**les screwing us over. If you put in eight hours this week on this one case, you've put in eighty. You got circles under your eyes I could swim laps in."