by J. D. Robb
“She forced you?” Eve spoke mildly. “Held a weapon to your throat?”
“Sort of,” Phoebe said as Nadine shot Eve a hard look.
“What was the weapon?”
“Okay.” Phoebe drank again, took two long breaths. “My father is Larson K. Derick.”
Eve drew a blank, but Roarke jumped on it. “Black Hat Derick?”
Phoebe nodded, stared at her wine. One fat tear popped into it.
“Black hat hacker extraordinaire,” Roarke explained. “Twenty-five years ago or so, he used his considerable skills to drain financial accounts, briefly turned Wall Street inside out. While he could have bought his own country and retired by the time he was done there, he turned to politics, you could say. I’m sorry,” Roarke added to Phoebe, “this is difficult for you.”
“It’s easier if you tell her.”
“All right. He became somewhat of a fanatic.”
“He went crazy,” Phoebe whispered. “He was a terrorist.”
“Yes. He broke into government facilities, exposed or held ransom highly sensitive information. He instigated a fire sale in East Washington—that’s e-talk for shutting down the city. The communications, the utilities. He chose to do this in the dead of winter.”
“People died,” Phoebe continued. “In traffic accidents. Some died of the cold because there was no heat, no way to get heat into buildings. Looting, people panicking and hurting one another.”
“I know this,” Eve said. “I know something about this.”
“He demanded the president, vice president, and their families be executed. He’d come to believe all government was corrupt, and needed to be leveled,” Roarke explained. “He believed the people would rise up and create a new society, a pure one. A utopia without leaders or the need for them.”
“They caught him, they stopped him, but people died. He was my father.”
“And nobody was going to give an e-job to the daughter of a notorious hacker,” Eve concluded.
“Any job, probably. I was only two when they caught him, and my mother had left him right after I was born because he started getting crazy. They put us in lockdown when he broke into the Pentagon and said who he was. They put my mother and me in lockdown, and questioned her for days and days. She told them all she knew, but she hadn’t been with him for two years. Still, some of what she told them helped them find him, stop him. They put us in witness protection. New names, new place, new everything. My mom wasn’t allowed to do any e-work, but I was only two. Nobody said I couldn’t. And I’m good at it. I never did any hacking, I swear.”
“Okay. But Larinda found out.”
Phoebe knuckled a tear away. “She found out. I didn’t lie exactly on my job app. I gave the data we’d been given. But she found out. She called me into her office. I thought she needed help with her comp, but she told me she knew, and she’d ruin me and my mom. When people found out who we really were, they’d turn on us, and how she’d make sure everybody knew. We’re just regular people, Lieutenant Dallas, but all my life we’ve been afraid somebody would find out who we used to be. And she did.”
“What did she ask you to do?”
“It was little things at first, like hacking into Valerie Race’s communications so Ms. Mars could see who she was talking to and where she planned to be. Her travel. I didn’t want to, but she showed me a picture of my mom at work. She works for a landscaper in New Jersey. I got scared, so I did it. I never hacked before in my life, I swear it. But I did it, and I did it again and again when she told me to. I begged her not to make me do it. She promoted me, made me an assistant. And she showed me she’d kept records of everything I’d done, and when she told Ms. Hewitt they’d believe I’d done it on my own, they’d believe it because I was my father’s daughter. She—”
Phoebe broke off, drank more wine. “She told me to hack into your systems.”
Roarke simply smiled. “Mine?”
“Anything of yours I could get into, she said, but your personal data was key. If I got into that, maybe, just maybe she’d let me off the hook. I couldn’t. I mean, I tried. I really tried, but I couldn’t get through. When I told her, she got mad, she got crazy mad, and slapped me.”
“I’m sorry for that.”
“Did anyone else know what you were doing?” Eve asked her.
“No. Well, Ms. Furst figured it out. I’m glad you did,” she said to Nadine. “I’m glad it’s out. I know I have to leave Seventy-Five. I really liked working there before Ms. Mars … Since then, it’s been horrible. If I don’t go to prison, I’m going home, I’m going to get a job working with my mom. If I don’t go to prison.”
“Did you kill her?”
“I— God—oh, no.” Her face turned white as bone under the tear streaks. “No, no. I swear.”
“Do you know who did?”
“No. I don’t know who killed her. But … when I heard she was dead, I was glad. That’s the truth, too. I was glad, and then I felt sick inside because I was glad.”
“Where were you last night between six and seven.”
“Um. I had to work till six, maybe a little after. I was getting ready to go home and Dory got a text from her new boyfriend. He broke up with her in a text, and that’s just mean. She was upset so I stayed with her awhile. Dory’s nice. We went out together. I guess it may have been six-thirty. She just wanted to go home. I got the subway, and I stopped for takeaway from the Chinese place. It’s just a couple blocks from where I live. I don’t know how to kill anybody.”
“Then you won’t be going to prison,” Eve said briskly. “Do you have a record of the names of people you hacked?”
“I remember all of them. You don’t forget when you do something mean to somebody.”
“I’m going to need those names.”
After Eve recorded them, Nadine gave Phoebe a pat on the shoulder. “It’s over now, and Lieutenant Dallas will take care of it from here. I’ve got a car waiting downstairs to take you home.”
“Oh, Ms. Furst, you don’t have to do that. I can take the subway.”
“You’re taking the car. You go down, give the doorman your name. He’ll have it brought around for you. Tomorrow, you give your notice at Seventy-Five, and if you need a reference for a job, you can give my name.”
“I’m ashamed of what I did.”
“You had a weapon at your throat.” Again, Eve spoke briskly. “Next time you do? Call a cop.”
“I wish I had. The marshals were good to us, even after what my father did. I should have known to go to the police.”
Nadine led her to the door, let out a long sigh when she came back. “I wish I could take her onto my team. I think she’s brutally honest and she’s a hard worker. But I can’t, and she’s better off back home planting bushes. I should take on an intern.” Nadine picked up her wine, drained it. “Someone young and smart and looking to learn. Someone I can mentor, and someone I can teach.”
“Seriously?”
Nadine shrugged at Eve. “Yeah. A protégé. I think I’d like having a protégé.”
“You’re good at your job.”
Nadine lifted her glass. “So are we all.”
“I may know somebody. Somebody young and smart. Cocky, but that can be a plus. She’d probably be willing to learn.”
“Really? Who?”
“I’ll let you know.”
* * *
“Black Hat Derick,” Roarke said as he and Eve rode down to the garage.
“You’re not going to tell me you admired him?”
“Well now, there was a time in my youth when he was a hero for certain, scooping up funds like candy drops and bolloxing up the system with keystrokes and vision. No question at all he was bleeding deadly, but he went full mentaller, and that’s the tragic.”
Eve stood a moment, brows knit. “What? What language is that?”
“Sorry, a mental and linguistic trip to that youth. I’m saying he was brilliant, but went mad with it. I can admire the brillia
nce, and feel that what he ended up doing with it and becoming was a tragedy.”
“Okay.”
“You feel for his daughter, and so do I. Twice victimized, once by her father’s deeds, then by a cunning woman.”
“Mars had to do some work to find out who she was. I can see her—Mars—homing in on Phoebe as a target. She looks soft, easy to intimidate, and obviously has e-skills. Sniffed her out,” Eve said as they crossed the garage.
“Then some background, finds her the only child of a single mother. Pushes a bit on that. Where’s the father, who’s the father?” This time Roarke took the wheel. “But it would take some skill to lever under the false front and pull out Black Hat Derick.”
“Agreed. Missy Lee Durante’s next.” She gave him the address. “If she managed to very successfully create her own false front, that might have given her some skill, some instincts. She finds a couple dots, starts connecting them, finds more.”
“She—Mars again—should have been able to do her own e-shoveling.”
“More fun to have someone else under her thumb. And it gave her a scapegoat. She puts Phoebe on her team, gets information from her. Anything leans south, she tosses Phoebe under the truck.”
“Bus,” Roarke corrected absently. “And if Phoebe claims Mars blackmailed her, gives out about her father, she’s only more fucked. Again, you’d have to say it was bleeding deadly.”
“That’s Irish for smart?”
“Very. A sad girl with a sad story. You’ve heard sad stories all day. It’s not a wonder you look tired.”
“And not one of them goes to the cops, or even to the station head. What are the odds?”
He heard the frustration, sympathized. “I’d say Mars knew her targets well before shooting the first arrow.”
“She aimed at you.”
“Not really, no. She took the arrow out of the quiver, you could say, but didn’t notch it. And was wise enough not to.”
“There had to be other times she backed off, or just missed. And there are going to be others she was busy laying the groundwork on.”
“Which is one more reason I’m sure she has records kept elsewhere.”
Because she agreed, Eve wondered how hard she could push DeWinter. She needed that face. Mars’s true face.
“It’s smart to weave some truth through a false ID,” she speculated. “Maybe she did go to a college in the Midwest, or move around a lot as a kid.” She added, “Her underground accounts used planets, so maybe that’s a pattern that carried over. You’ve got, what, Mercury, Venus, Jupiter.”
“Uranus is always popular.”
“That’s such a lame guy thing.”
“Sadly true. Saturn, Neptune,” Roarke added, “and Pluto depending on your stand there. Trying to find the name of a female of her age that has a connection to a planet—or perhaps a moon or important star—who attended a Midwest college could take … next to forever.”
“You’re supposed to be bleeding deadly.”
Appreciating her, he laughed. “Now you force me to at least play with it, which makes you fecking wily.”
“Really smart?”
“Very sly.”
“I’ll take it,” she said as he pulled up at a dignified old building.
Its redbrick rose unmarred, its windows tall and screened. It stood on its corner quietly, its wide glass entrance doors unmanned.
Until they stopped the DLE at the curb.
The doorman wore unembellished black, with a cap over his square, sober face.
As Roarke stepped out of the car, the doorman nodded and said, “Sir. How can I assist you?”
Before Eve could pull out her badge, make any demand, Roarke spoke smoothly. “We’re here to see Missy Lee Durante. We’re expected.”
“Of course.”
As he stepped back to open the door, Eve noted the doorman discreetly checking a memo book he eased from his pocket.
The lobby was as dignified and understated as the exterior, with a wide, well-lit expanse of black-grained white marble floor and soft gray walls.
Lobby security also wore unembellished black, sans cap.
“Mr. Roarke and Lieutenant Dallas for three five three.”
“Of course.” Security left the desk to lead them to a trio of elevators, swiped them on. “Three five three,” she said. “Enjoy your visit.”
The doors closed silently.
“You didn’t mention it’s your building.”
“I didn’t realize it until we pulled up. I don’t carry the address of every property in my head.”
“It’s a lot different than Nadine’s.”
“Variety is essential to a vibrant city, I think. This is early twentieth century, and though it took some ugly knocks during the Urbans, it survived well intact. A great deal of the interior is original, and what couldn’t be saved or preserved was replaced.”
“How long have you had it?”
“About six years, I think. Might be seven.” He glanced around the car, at the subtle sheen of the walls. “The staff keeps it well maintained.”
The car opened to a central area with a long glossy table holding white roses in a clear vase bisecting hallways to the right and left. They went left, to the corner unit, pressed the buzzer.
Eve knew the man who answered could buy a legal brew, as she’d scanned his data when reviewing Missy Lee. But he looked about sixteen with long, shaggy blond hair, a pretty-boy face highlighted by bold green eyes.
“Hey,” he said, sticking out a hand. “I’m Marshall, nice to meetcha. Love the vid, gotta read the book. Come on in.”
He held the door wide into a living area comprised of a mix-match of furnishings and decors, colors and carelessness. If she subtracted most of the space, the views, and the rest of the apartment, it wasn’t much different from her own first apartment in New York.
Missy Lee, in floral skin pants and a long blue sweater, sat on a lumpy sofa beside a suited man with black hair touched with silver wings.
He looked like a lawyer, Eve thought, while the others looked like a couple of attractive teenagers.
“Got brew,” Marshall said. “Got wine.”
“You can’t call that bug juice wine, Marsh.”
He just grinned at Missy Lee. “It’s not so bad. Anyway, mi casa and all that.” So saying, he grabbed a coat from the back of a chair that wobbled a little as he brushed against it. He pulled it on, then an earflap cap, wound an enormous scarf around his neck.
“Cha.”
“Thanks, Marsh.”
“Hey,” he said, stepping over to give her a kiss. “Tag me,” he added, and strolled out.
“The brew’s decent,” Missy began. “The wine’s foul.”
“We’re fine,” Eve told her.
“It’s Marshall’s place.”
“That’s Poster,” Eve said. “He plays the Tad character on your show.”
“Yeah. Chief dick, who’s actually a complete sweetheart. City Girl was his first break, and as you can see…” She gestured. “While he talked himself into this place, a good, secure building with some impressive history, he still gets his furniture in flea markets or off the street.”
She glanced toward the door. “He agreed to let us have this meeting here and leave, without asking why, because that’s the kind of man he is.”
She let out a breath. “I live here about half the time, and we’re keeping our relationship private. Even the rest of the cast doesn’t know yet.”
“Did Mars?”
“I can’t say, probably not or she’d have brought it up. Could be she was holding that back, but it wouldn’t have mattered. It’s not going to shake the earth when the fans find out Marsh and I are a thing.”
“She didn’t know,” Eve said. “Breaking it would’ve given her a spike. She wouldn’t have resisted it.”
“You know, you’re right. I guess keeping tabs on me didn’t matter once she got what she wanted. Anyway, I trust Marshall, completely, and maybe one
day I’ll tell him what I’m going to tell you. But right now, it’s personal family business. This is my attorney, Anson Gregory.”
Gregory rose, extended a hand to Eve, then to Roarke. “Miss Durante has apprised me of the circumstances. I’m here to protect her interests, of course.”
“I’m sorry.” Missy Lee rose. “Let me take your coats, and please sit down. There’s no coffee because neither of us drinks it, but I could probably scrounge something up.”
“We’re fine,” Eve repeated, and tossed her coat where Marshall’s had been. “I’m going to record this, and read you your rights.”
Gregory nodded, and both he and Missy Lee sat again.
“Do you understand your rights and obligations?” Eve asked when she finished.
“Yeah, I do. I’m going to say first that if anything I tell you here gets out, goes public, I’m going to sue you and the NYPSD, sue hard. It may not get me anywhere, but I’ll make sure it’s really unpleasant.”
Gregory lifted the briefcase at his feet, set it on his lap, and opened it. “I prepared confidentiality agreements,” he began.
Eve simply said, “No. Neither I nor the NYPSD’s civilian consultant will sign any such documents. We can, however, compel your client to come into Central for formal questioning. Or we can do this here, with our word that nothing said will be made public until and unless it becomes necessary due to investigative needs or in the event of criminal charges.”
“It was worth a try.” Missy Lee put a hand on Gregory’s arm before he could respond. “I’m prepared to do this, just like I’m prepared to sue their asses off if it becomes necessary. So.”
“You can start by telling me where you were last night between six and seven.”
“We shot until six, maybe six-fifteen. In studio. Then I ducked out and came here. You can review building security and see when I came in. I’ll be wearing a short wig, a black coat. We’re keeping our relationship private,” she said again. “The doormen know, and the lobby staff, but they also know gossip isn’t worth their jobs. Plus, they’ve been really frosty about it. Marshall got here about fifteen minutes after me. We don’t come and go together. He picked up a pizza on the way, we had dinner, ran some lines, and … stuff,” she said with a quick smile. “I stayed till about ten-thirty. I don’t usually stay the night when we’re on call. I went home.”