Page 83 of Fury In Death

She hissed out a breath. Not Zeus, he wasn’t cooking Zeus, because he needed to be in control, he needed to be able to think. Get in and get out and not simply rampage.

So something he created specifically for this. That would take time, too. Calculate, experiment, perfect—or close enough.

Six years, she decided. It had taken him six years to rehabilitate his body, to create whatever drug took him to another level.

Another level, she thought, that allowed him to beat two men to death within hours.

Add in figuring out or learning to access security codes, texts on a personal ’link. Being patient enough, careful enough, controlled enough to make sure the target’s alone. Controlled enough. Feeling enough to turn those family photos away.

“Yeah, you made something, and Jesus, we sure as hell don’t need whatever it is on the street.”

When Roarke came in, she shared her thoughts.

“He’s cooking whatever he’s using himself. Not Zeus, he has too much control for that. Six years because he had to get back in shape after longer than that sedentary. And he needed time to make the drug he’s using.

“How long do you figure to get back in decent physical shape?”

“I couldn’t say, but you know two doctors very well. Louise or Mira would certainly have a better handle there.”

“Right.” She considered tagging one or both. “It can wait. I should see them both tomorrow. Louise at Chu’s memorial, Mira at Central. I’m just trying to get a kind of timeline, mostly curiosity.”

“Always better to know than not. I have some names for you, separated into professionals for hire, and for wet work. You’ll have a hunt on your hands there. And your more legitimate sorts, employed by Banner-Wyst, and those who aren’t but are also considered top in their field.”

“This is good.”

“I’ve marked those I know, who have done work for me. They would have been carefully screened. But you might want to look at them regardless.”

“Bottom of the list. Top starts with on the payroll. Can you run financials on those?”

“Running now on auto. I thought you’d want the list first, so I’ve sent it to your unit.”

“You’re right, I do. Thanks. It may not lead to Redman—and tomorrow I’m having somebody run a rendering of what he should look like now—but this could be the next step to—ha ha—undermining Banner-Wyst.”

He started to speak, then frowned toward his office when something in there gave a series of beeps.

“What’s that?”

“I programmed it to signal if there was a large payment made in the timeline of the explosion. It appears there was.”

“Well, Jesus, let’s go check it.”

“Sit.” He eased her back down, leaned over her to dance his clever fingers over her keyboard.

“Computer, bring up file just copied and forwarded.”

Acknowledged. Working . . . Task complete.

“Ah, Carlos Cruz, who ostensibly runs a construction company, but under that cover blows things up for profit. And see here?”

“Yeah, I see there. Account CruzLine, ostensibly—since you used that big fat word—a travel agency. Deposit of three million the day before the explosion, deposit of another five the day of—logged one hour after the building went off. Son of a bitch.”

Hissing out a breath, she sat back. “Banner-Wyst—because it’s damn well Banner-Wyst—shelled out a hell of a lot to kill one man.”

“And missed.”

“And all those other people, they were nothing to them. Less than nothing. Where is this fucker?”

One hand on Eve’s shoulder, Roarke tapped a key.