Delusion in Death (In Death #35)(101)

“How can you be so callous?” he demanded. “So cold.”

“Me? You’re the champ there. Lew’s just confessed to creating the hallucinogenic and taking it into the bar.”

“I was traumatized! I meant to self-terminate.”

“There are easier ways,” Eve pointed out. “Did you also mean to self-terminate when you took another vial of the hallucinogenic, palmed it off on Jeni Curve without her knowledge?”

“I don’t remember any of that. There are blanks in my memory. The shock. The stress. I want to speak with your superior!”

“Fuck that.” Eve slammed her hands on the table, pushed up to lean into his face. “You needed a vessel, she was handy. You made up some story about a man in black. You were the man, Lew. You. Do you know how many buildings on that street have security cams? Do you think you avoided all of them?”

“You idiot. I never went near camera range.”

“No? You’re sure. Your memory’s clear on that point?”

“I don’t know. You’re confusing me. I want to talk to your commanding officer. I don’t want to talk to you.”

“You can talk to me,” Reo suggested. “I’m Assistant Prosecuting Attorney Cher Reo.”

“Do you think I’m going to talk to an assistant? Some secretary?”

“That’s telling her, Lew.” Eve circled him. “Show her who’s in charge here. Who’s the f**king boss. You murdered a hundred and twenty-seven people, for Christ’s sake, without getting a drop of blood on you. And she sashays in here in her girly suit and sex-me-up shoes and expects you to give her the time of day?

“This is bullshit. Just bullshit. You put an entire city on notice, and you did it because you could, not for some crackpot end-of-days bullshit like your whacked-out grandfather. You’ve got book deals and vid deals coming. They’ll be beating down your door, throwing money at you. And fame. Everybody’s going to know your name, and fear it. That’s what you want, isn’t it? The attention, the respect you deserve.”

“That’s right, and I’m not talking to a bunch of idiot women.”

“Come on, Lew, show us your balls. Give us a thrill. When the real PA gets here, he’ll know he’s dealing with a man. A man who demands respect. Not some weak sister like Joe Cattery. That bitch Weaver was going to promote him over you. It was time for a game changer. Time to level the field. And all those happy hour ass**les, slurping up the half-priced drinks. I bet they made you sick. Plenty more out there just like them, but you—you’re special. It’s about damn time people treated you the way you should be treated.”

“Joe was nothing. A flunky.”

“That’s right. That’s right. It had to burn your ass when he got the big bonus.”

“My bonus. Weaver f**ked me over.”

“That bitch.” Not controlled now, Eve thought. Cornered, furious, cracking. “And it wasn’t the money, not really. Right? It was the principle. What did you do, Lew? Impress me. You had the formula, you had the journal—all those secrets inside the faded brown cover. Sure, we found that.” She kept her eyes steady when he blinked. “The men said you really put it together, Lew. All the time, the effort, the planning that went into building the lab, outfitting it. And the risk. Talk about balls. It’s dangerous, cooking up LSD, mixing it, getting all the parts and pieces together. That takes brains and balls. It takes imagination. People are going to talk about Lewis Callaway for generations.”

“You admit it.” He jabbed a finger at her. “You admit that.”

“I was messing with you before. Nobody’s ever going to forget what you did, who you are. Jesus, Lew, you’re in a league of your own. Tell me what you did. I’ll never forget.”

He shook his head, turned away again, but his breathing was fast, his eyes calculating.

Nearly there, she thought.

“If you did this,” Teasdale put in. “Can prove you did this, the agency will be very interested. They want people like you, Mr. Callaway, working for them. High-level positions.”

“Wait just a damn minute,” Eve began.

“Lieutenant, we’re talking about global security. My superiors—and this reaches the highest chambers—have authorized me to persuade Mr. Callaway, should he prove himself, should he offer details that leave no room for doubt he perpetrated these events, to consider an offer.”

“Working for the HSO?”

“Menzini’s talents have certainly been useful. My superiors are of the opinion yours will follow suit.”

“Some cushy job!” Eve rounded on Teasdale. “Some big, covert government deal? For killing people? I should’ve known you’d play it this way. Let me do all the work, then grab the prize at the end.”

“Those with the skill and aptitude for such matters are more useful with us than not.” Teasdale merely shrugged. “HSO values creativity and—as you so aptly stated—balls. But I can’t discuss any of it any further without solid evidence, and Mr. Callaway’s statement.”

“My grandfather works for the HSO? He’s alive and working for you?”

Teasdale pokered up. “I’m not at liberty to say anything more on that matter at this time. I don’t have that authority.”