Creation in Death (In Death #25)(109)

“Yes, I do.” He continued to smile genially, folded his plump hands. “Should we save time by my acknowledging all those charges. Confessing to them? Or would that be anticlimactic?”

“You’re awful damn chipper,” Feeney commented, “for a man who’s going to spend the rest of his miserable, murdering life in a cement cage.”

“Well, actually, I won’t be. I will be quietly ending my time within the next twenty-four hours as per my requested and granted self-termination contract. It will stand,” he said pleasantly, “as my doctors have certified my terminal condition and my application. My lawyers have assured me that the certification will override even criminal charges. Neither the State nor Global will supersede an individual’s right to die. And, of course, it saves considerable expense. So…” He lifted his shoulders.

“You think you can get off, get out, by swallowing a few pills?” Feeney demanded.

“Indeed I do. It’s not what I hoped for, believe me. I haven’t finished my work, not completely. You were to be my ultimate,” he said to Eve. “The culmination of everything. When you were finished, then I would have approached my own death with all fully realized. Still, I have accomplished a great deal.”

“Well.” Eve leaned back in her chair, nodded. “You sure covered the bases. I have to say—Bob—you thought of everything. I admire that. It’s not nearly as satisfying to pull in a sloppy killer.”

“Order is one of my bywords.”

“Yeah, I noticed. I appreciate you saving us time by being willing to confess to everything, but after all the work we put in, we’d really like the details. You could call it our culmination. So…this is going to take a while,” she said with an easy smile. “You want something to drink? I’m still a little off from the tranq you got into me. I’m going to go get myself some cold caffeine. You want?”

“That’s very nice of you. I wouldn’t mind a soft drink.”

“You got it. Feeney, why don’t you step out while I hit Vending. Pause record.”

“What the hell,” Feeney began when they were outside Interview.

Everything about her hardened: face, eyes, voice. “I’ve got a way around this. I don’t want you to ask me about it. Ever. When we go back in, we play along. We get the details, and we sew him up. Give me your ’link, will you? I haven’t replaced mine yet. And wait for me.”

She took Feeney’s ’link, wandered down to Vending. And beeped Peabody on privacy mode. “Tell Roarke—quietly—to step out for a minute. Don’t say anything to me. We haven’t spoken.” She clicked off, then stared at the machine.

Moments later, Roarke walked up behind her. “Lieutenant?”

“Get me a Pepsi, a ginger ale, and a cream soda. I need you to make this go away,” she said under her breath. “Can you make his self-termination clearance disappear? No trace of it, anywhere?”

“Yes,” he said simply as he ordered the tubes.

“It crosses the line, what I’m asking you. I gave her my word he’d pay. And in the war room before I came out, I gave them all my word. So I’m crossing the line.”

He retrieved the tubes, passed them to her. His eyes, meeting hers, spoke volumes. “I have to get on,” he said in a clear voice. “I wish I could stay, wait for you, but I’m expecting some calls and transmissions, and you gave Ariel my ’link. I’ll try to come back once I’ve taken care of this. Otherwise, I’ll see you at home.”

“Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

They parted ways with her heading back to Feeney. “I got you cream soda.”

“For Christ’s sake—”

“Hey, if you wanted something else you should’ve said so. It’s going away,” she whispered. “Don’t ask me about it, just take my word. He’s not going out the way he wants. We’ll let him think he is, until we have everything we need.”

Feeney stared into her eyes for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay, let’s get it down.”

It took hours, but Lowell never requested a break. He was, Eve realized, basking. After all the time, all the effort, he was finally able to share his obsession.

He gave them meticulous details on every murder.

Eve and Feeney worked in tandem, an old and easy rhythm.

“You got yourself a good memory,” Feeney commented.

“I do. You’ll find every project documented—keeping records, and we could say amending them, was one of my tasks during the wars. I’m sure you’ve collected all the records from my lab and office. I’d hoped, before I learned I was dying, to arrange for my work to be published. It will have to be posthumously, but I believe that’s appropriate.”

“So, your work,” Eve began, “what got you started? We understand the women—”

“Partners. I considered them partners.”

“I bet they didn’t see it your way, but fine. Your partners represented to you your stepmother.”

“They became her, which is entirely different. She was the first, you see. The Eve.” He smiled brilliantly. “So you can see why I knew you were to be the last.”

“Yeah, too bad about your luck on that.”

“I always knew I could fail, but if I succeeded it would have been perfection. As she was. She was magnificent. You’ll also find many recording discs of her performances. She gave up a great career for me.”