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“Your husband retired a few years ago.”
“Yes. He enjoyed his retirement. Gardening became more passion than hobby. He had more time for the grandchildren. And to, ah…”
She turned to her son, asked something in Italian.
“Putter around,” he said.
“Yes, yes.” Her lips curved into a trembling smile. “Under my feet!”
“He worked for the security company for a long time. What did he do there?”
“Oh, he made secure the electronics, the Internet. He would find and stop those who used it to cheat or, ah, exploit. He would go sometimes to fix problems or, ah… Antonio, my English.”
“Is excellent,” Peabody said.
“She means to say he would build systems, electronic security systems, and as part of his duties, search out hackers, those who attempt—and often succeed—in conning the unwary out of money. Or attempt to harm.”
“As part of a team.”
“He liked best to be in a team,” his widow said.
“He was part of a team, in the Underground, during the Urban Wars?”
“Yes. He was very dedicated.”
“And the names of his team members?”
“I can’t answer. He never spoke of them, not by name.”
“You never met any of them?”
“I did not. Even before he lost his brother, he sent me—we had Antonio and Katrina, and he sent us to where my sister and her husband had a little farm. In the country, you see. To safety. He wouldn’t come with us, though I was weak enough to beg him to come with us.
“He only came when he could, a day or two, a few days at most. Long enough,” she said with a smile, “that we began our third child, and then our fourth. But he would never, never speak of what he did. Not then, not after. But…”
“Anything, Ms. Rossi.”
“I know something happened. After Paolo was born, our youngest. He was different, his voice when we spoke. And I could see it when he came to see us. Something dark inside him, a pain inside him. But he wouldn’t speak of it, and I left it alone. He needed me to, so I left it alone.”
“Do you remember when this was?”
“Ah… After Paolo. He is the twelfth of January, 2026. Gio was with me for the birth and for another week. Then he came back in… May, I think. Yes, he came in May.”
“May of 2026?”
“Yes. This helps?”
“Everything you can tell us helps. He was wounded in the war?”
“Wounded? No, he did the… cyber. Dangerous, yes, dangerous times, but Gio didn’t fight. Not a solider but a technician?”
“He has a wound, an old wound.” Eve touched a hand to her side.
“Yes, the scar. An accident, a fall from his scooter—yes, that same spring, after Paolo and before Gio comes again. A rainy night, and someone drove too fast and close, wet roads, and he wrecked his scooter. He hurts the ribs, and has the cut. Ah, and he broke these two fingers in the fall.”
She held up her index and middle fingers. “They were still healing when he came to see us. And the wound on his side, infected a little. My sister treated it the country way, and it healed. A scar, but it healed.”
“And he had other injuries?”
She looked blank. “No. Oh, yes, he sprained his ankle in the garden three years gone. And once, he returns from a trip with his eye blackened. He walked into the wall.” She laughed a little. “Up in the middle of the night, thinking home, and forgot where the wall was in the hotel. You mean this?”
“It’s helpful” was all Eve said. “What about the Wasp?”
She got the reaction she’d expected. A blank frown.
“In the garden? They will build their nest sometimes. Gio doesn’t like to kill them—he says they serve a purpose. But he doesn’t want them to sting the children, so he knocks down their nest, and tells them to build a new one but not in the garden.”
“Did he ever mention anyone he called Fawn, or Rabbit, or Hawk?”
“No. I would remember such odd names as those.”
“How many languages did he speak?”
“Oh, Italian, of course, and English as good as the children’s—he insisted they learn to speak English very well.”
“He spoke better English than any of us.”
She smiled at her son. “He had a gift. He speaks very good French, Spanish as well. Some German, even some Ukrainian. It helps, you see, for his work. He is often sent to places where they speak another language, and Gio is very good with languages.”
“How did this friend contact him?”
“I never thought to ask.” This clearly distressed her. “I never thought to ask him this.”
“Did this friend ever contact him before?”
“He never said. But I think a good friend, Tenente , as he spoke of an oath. A promise made, and he left so quickly. I know worried, but also pleased. Pleased to see this friend again. How could he be so pleased if this was his killer?”
“He wasn’t a stupid man,” his son added. “He may not have fought in the wars, but he worked through them, lived through them, kept his family safe. He worked in cybersecurity, rooting out those who commit crimes.”
“I don’t for a minute think Giovanni Rossi was a stupid man. I think his killer used his loyalty as a weapon against him. It’s possible this contact wasn’t made by the friend, but someone posing as his friend. Or, if not, that this person had no loyalty.
“What about coworkers? Do you know anyone he worked with at the security company?”
“Yes, of course. His supervisor the last few years, before he retired. Some of the young ones. Many had, like Gio, retired. And the younger came in. He enjoyed them, working with them, being around them. He said they kept him—”
Once again she looked to her son.
“On his toes.”
“ Sì, giusto .”
“If you could give me some names. Coworkers—the ones who retired, like he did. Some of the others he might have worked closely with. Team members.”
“Yes, I can do this, if it helps.”
“I’d appreciate it. How long are you staying in New York?”
“Until we take the father of my children home.”
“It may be a few days.”
“I will not go home without my husband.”
Eve met her eyes. “Neither would I.”
“So you know this bond. One death cannot break.”
“I do. My partner and I will do all we can so you can take your husband home soon.”
“I believe you. You have truth in your eyes. I think there’s an anger behind the truth. I respect the anger in them. I will send the names.”
“Thank you for coming in. Again, we’re very sorry for your loss. Detective Peabody will take you out.”
Alone, she sat for a moment, playing those questions, those answers over in her mind.
She rose, walked out, and met Peabody coming back.
“They held up,” Peabody observed. “It wasn’t easy on either of them. They just didn’t have the answers.”
“They had plenty of them. They gave me the answers because they didn’t know the answers.”
“Is that a riddle?”
“They didn’t know the answers because he never told them, not even the woman he lived with for half a frigging century. He didn’t tell them not just because he didn’t want to talk about it, but because he’d taken an oath.
“He didn’t tell them because he was a freaking spy.”
First Peabody’s mouth fell open. Then her eyes lit as she pumped her fists in the air. “I knew it!”
“No, you wondered it, and you hoped it—because it adds—what’s the thing frosty stuff adds?”
“Cachet?”
“Sure, that works. But he was a goddamn agent, at least up until a few years ago. Didn’t fight in the Urbans? Got a knife wound and broken ribs, broken fingers falling off a scooter?”
Eve shook her head.
“I figure he was a damn good agent in his day.”
“Do you think the security company where he worked is like a front, a front for covert ops?”
“If not, he used it as a cover.”
“This is pretty frosty, Dallas.”
“Murder’s never frosty.”
“No, I mean before the murder. The life he led. Frosty. He was a spy, during the Urbans and beyond. He traveled all over Europe, a covert agent posing as an ordinary e-man. And while he did that, he made a family, what seems like a really good family. He not only kept them all safe—removed from his real work—but he kept their lives normal.”
“It couldn’t have been easy. Keeping it all contained. Contained and separated.”
“No, and that’s another layer of the frost.”
“I’ll give you that, but here’s what’s not frosty. He had enough experience, enough knowledge to understand exactly what was happening, going to happen the instant he felt the first effects of the gas.”
Outside of the bullpen, Eve paused.
“The last minutes of his frosty life, with all the normality he’d built into it, ended in pain, fear, and the terrible knowledge that he’d die thousands of miles from home. More, Peabody, he knew, he was too smart not to know, that his killer had seven others on a list.”
“It all goes back to the Urbans.”
“And whatever happened, most likely in May of 2026. We dig there. Major incidents in significant European cities after the first of the year and before May 2026.”
“His data says he worked out of London, not Rome.” Peabody hunched her shoulders at Eve’s long look. “That doesn’t mean he did, because spy.”
“Get started there. I’m going to contact Nadine on the off-chance—” She broke off as she turned into the bullpen, saw not only camera-ready Nadine Furst but the young apprentice Quilla.
Quilla sat at a chair pulled up at Jenkinson’s desk. Obviously unaffected by the atomic tie, she studied him intently as he wound through some story for her.
The teenager wore black pants that stopped just above her ankles and her purple kicks. The button shirt she wore untucked matched the sneakers. As did the thick fall of bangs and a few scattered streaks through her brown hair.
Nadine, watching them, wore a green suit that matched her cat eyes. Her streaky blond hair, perfectly coiffed, waved back from her sharp-angled face.
Eve caught the fading scents of sugar and chocolate.
Whatever bakery bribe Nadine had brought in had already been devoured.
“Detective Sergeant, haven’t you got work?”
“I’m doing it, Loo. You cleared the kid to come in.”
She had, Eve remembered. Quilla had completed her story on EDD, and Eve had given her the green light to conduct interviews in the bullpen.
But that was before murder and spies and what she believed could be a decades-long grudge.
“DS Jenkinson said you’d be too busy to talk to me today.” Quilla, eyes bright, turned to Eve. “But he and Detective Reineke had some time. Detectives Baxter and Trueheart are in the field, and Detectives Carmichael and Santiago are in Interview.”
Eve flicked a glance to the case board. “So it says, right there.”
“If they have time later, that’s chill. If not, I can come back. I’m going to talk to some of the uniforms. And I really want to interview you and Peabody when you’re not busy.”
“Don’t you have school?”
“This is part of it.” Quilla tried for earnest, but couldn’t quite hide the smug. “Part of my education.”
“You gave her the green light,” Nadine said.
“Yeah, yeah. Why’d you bring cookies?”
“As a thank-you,” Quilla piped right up. “For giving me the time, and because everyone here protects and serves.”
Eve caught Nadine’s overtly smug smile. “She’s a freaking mini you.”
“No, she’s all Quilla.”
“My office.” When Nadine hesitated, Eve offered her own smug smile. “Does she need you to watch her?”
“No. No, she does not.”
Pushing off Peabody’s desk, Nadine went with Eve. “You cleared her, and it’s a major project for her.”
“This isn’t about that, and what’s on my board is off the record. What we’re going to talk about is off the record.”
“All right.”
Just like that, Nadine’s agreement and Eve’s acceptance of it. Like her victim, Eve thought, Nadine kept her word.
But she turned those cat eyes on Eve’s board.
“Giovanni Rossi, out of Rome. Cause of death not yet determined.” Then shifted them to Eve. “But it has been, hasn’t it?”
“I need to know if anyone’s been in contact with you, or attempted to contact you about me.”
Nadine’s eyebrows winged up. “I have the bestselling true crime book in the country at the moment, and you’re the lead investigator in it. Of course people contact me about you. I’m adapting the screenplay for a major film based on that book. The last one won me an Oscar. I talk to the Hollywood people, and you do come up, at least once a week.”
“Well, shit.”
“That’s your card on the board.”
“No, it’s one whoever killed Rossi made to look like my card.”
“And this message?” Nadine moved closer. “The Wasp? I’ve never seen anyone who looks less wasplike. He looks jovial. What happened to him?”
Eve waved that off. “Any contacts or attempts regarding me from someone you don’t know, or didn’t check out?”
“No. I get communication from readers, fans of the books, the vid. And yeah, sure, some of them—a lot of them—ask about you. Or Roarke, or Peabody, and so on. I’m careful, Dallas, I can promise you, on how I respond, or have Quilla or my assistant respond. There’s nothing personal.
“Are you a target?”
“No.” Of that, at least for the moment, she was sure. “But they picked me, specifically, left my card and the message, for a reason.”
“And you wonder if it’s the notoriety from the books, the vid. It could be. It could be your reputation on the job. It could be you’re married to the richest man in the galaxy. And it could be,” she added, “a combination of all of the above.
“Which you’d have considered.”
“I’m considering.”
Nadine pointed at the AutoChef, got a nod.
“If I had to pick,” Nadine continued as she programmed two cups, “I’d go with the second, and consider elements of one and three in there. What’s phosphine?”
“What killed him.”
Nadine passed Eve her coffee, sipped her own. “Like a gas? Toxic gas? It’s dated 2024.”
She frowned now. “That’s nearly forty years. Since I’ve heard nothing about the driver’s death, I’m going to assume he not only survived but is your number one suspect. Not in custody?”
“No. Rossi worked with the Underground in Europe, Urbans era. An e-man.”
“Oh.” Nodding, eyes narrowed, Nadine sipped again. “2024. That’s about the end of the Urbans, isn’t it? I’d need to check to be sure, but weren’t things largely settled by then?”
“Here, yeah. I did check. In Europe, it took a little longer, and some pockets still had trouble longer.”
“You weren’t even born yet. Me, either. I’m sticking with choice number two. The killer’s challenging you. I can put some researchers on it.”
“No. Nobody.”
“All right. I can do some research on it. You already are, but you never know. A bioweapon. That’s a big risk, isn’t it? A big risk with a long, long, ugly history. There’d be a reason to use it.”
If a crime beat reporter didn’t think like a cop, Eve decided, she wouldn’t last long.
“I want to break this when you clear it. Your card left with the victim, so that’s a one-on-one, very least. A live on Now ’s even better.”
And if Nadine didn’t know how to push, she wouldn’t be at the top of her game.
“I’d like to catch him first, and I’d like to do that before there are seven more people on this board.”
“He shouldn’t have pulled you in, pissed you off. He thinks he’s smarter than you, and wants the shine of winning. I have good reason to doubt the first and categorically refute the second.”
She lifted her coffee in a toast. “Add, he shouldn’t have taken an arrogant swipe at a friend of mine. I’m also goddamn smart and goddamn tenacious. You’ll get him, and if anything I do helps, I’ll take that shine. And the interview.”
“Maybe you’re Adult Quilla.”
Nadine’s laugh held easy delight. “She’s a gem, Dallas. Another thing I owe you, for putting her in my sights. She’s so fucking bright. And the school? An Didean? What you and Roarke have done there—”
“He did it.”
“She’s doing so well there. Not just academically, but socially, emotionally. She works hard, but she’s made friends. You know she’s seeing Jamie.”
Eve slapped a hand on her eye as it twitched. “I don’t want to hear about it!”
“It’s not serious. He’s in college, she’s still in high school. She wants to do what I do, he wants to do what Feeney does. They both know you can’t mix that. But they’re good for each other, and I really think they’ll stay friends.”
“Fine. Friends is fine. Look, I don’t want to block her from this project, but I don’t know when I can talk to her, or spare Peabody.”
“She’ll wait. Anyway.”
She set down her empty mug. Then heaved a breath.
“Hell, hell. Do you have two minutes? Just two minutes for something completely else?”
“Maybe.”
“Jake.”
“Oh.” Eve had the sudden need to roll her shoulders as if shifting a weight. If there was trouble between the reporter and the rock star, what the hell could she do about it?
“Look, Nadine, if something’s gone wrong there—”
“No! Everything’s right. It’s just so right. It’s terrifying, and wonderful. I’ve loved other men before, but never been in love, and it’s different. For him, too. For both of us. Together.”
She pressed a hand to her belly. “I get the jitters. Nobody ever gave me the jitters before. I like it. Am I supposed to like it?”
“Maybe” was the best Eve could do.
“I thought it would be easy once we said the word. The love word. But once you do, it’s right there. Before you do, it’s this is fun, it’s great, it’s interesting and exciting. It’s amazing sex.”
“I don’t want to hear about the sex.”
“I’m not going to talk to you about the sex.”
“Okay then.”
In her sky-high heels, Nadine turned a circle.
“I’m crazy in love with him, and I didn’t expect it. I wasn’t looking for it. But now I have it, and I want it. I want to keep it. He’s moving in with me.”
“Oh, well, good?”
“It is, it is.” Now Nadine paced in her green spikes. “He was practi cally living there before. And he’s got his place with the recording studio, and he’ll keep that. He travels, I travel. Sometimes we can coordinate that, but it’s all good if not.”
“And the problem is?”
With a hand to her heart, Nadine pivoted. “What if I screw it up? How do you not screw it up?”
“I screw it up all the time.”
“Do you? I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse. We’re hard cases, Dallas, you and me. Women who’ve worked their way up to boss because they’re smart, determined, they believe in what they do, and they’re damn good at it. And sometimes what they do has to come first.”
“Yeah. So?”
Nadine let out a breathless laugh. “And strangely a little better. Men like Roarke, like Jake, they’re damn good at what they do. And they’re no pushovers.”
“Who wants to get stuck with a pushover?”
“Exactly.” Still pacing, Nadine shot a finger at Eve. “We’d never respect that, and we want to respect the person we’re with. They’re both strong, smart, and, yeah, damn good at what they do. I don’t know half of what Roarke does.”
“Join the club. I’m president.”
“But he’s damn good at it. Jake is a freaking rock star. Literally a freaking rock star. He could have anyone. So could Roarke. They picked us.”
“What, like flowers?”
Nadine threw up her hands. “You’re right, wrong phrase. Shows my mind’s scrambled. They fell for us, like we fell for them. Because of all that. Who we are, who they are. Was it easy for you and Roarke? Did it just… slide into place and stick?”
“No. Nothing was easy, and I had a lot to do with that because he scared me. What I felt for him scared me, too.”
“Oh, thank God.” Nadine stopped pacing. “I needed to hear that. I really needed to hear that. I know it’s not supposed to be easy. I know it takes work. I’m smart enough to understand that, and I love him enough to do the work. But I know I’m not easy, and I don’t want to screw it up.”
“You will. You’ll both screw up, then you’ll both deal with it, figure it out. You look good together. I don’t mean physically, though come on. I mean you look right together.”
“It feels right. That first night, that horrible night we met? Everything started changing, even in the middle of that.”
She let out another breath. “I know timing, and I know I went way over the two minutes. Thanks. Serious thanks. I’ll get out of your way.”
She walked to the door, then glanced back. “I know I compared him to Roarke, but the fact is, Jake is more like you.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. I don’t know what the hell that says about me.”
Since she didn’t, either, Eve just shook her head. Rather than coffee this round, she got a tube of water.
Sitting behind her desk, she wrote up the interview with the Rossis, copied Whitney. Because she felt she was dealing with a kind of madness—a sly, arrogant kind—she copied all the data to Mira.
She’d like the opinion of a shrink, a profiler, a woman whose opinion she respected. Given the time and the amount of data, she requested a consult the next day.
She’d already considered and rejected contacting Homeland regarding Rossi, and/or the security company. She had many reasons, and some very personal, for not trusting HSO.
She considered, then rejected contacting Agent Teasdale. She did trust the FBI agent—and former Homeland agent. But Eve decided to hold her in reserve.
She had another way. Taking that way bent the rules, but it wouldn’t be the first time. When dealing with covert, why not use the covert?
She got an incoming with a scheduled consult for oh-nine hundred, plugged it in, shot that to Peabody.
There was one more potential source, and though she tried to find a way around it, it only took a glance at her board. She didn’t look forward to this particular consult, but Summerset had served as a medic—and she suspected more—in Europe during the Urbans.
He could give her, if he didn’t blow her off, an in-person perspective.
He had a woman friend who’d done covert work. Possibly she could try to tap Ivanna Liski for information. Again, possibly, she would know if the security company Rossi worked for was indeed a front.
Something happened in the spring of 2026. Maybe one of them knew more about that.
A long shot, she thought, considering how many people lived through, fought through, worked through the Urbans. But if you didn’t take the shot, it couldn’t pay off.
“Might as well get it the hell over with.”
She shut down, walked into the bullpen.
Since she didn’t see Quilla or Nadine, she figured the interviews there were done. For now.
“That’s a smart kid, Dallas. Got a head on her shoulders,” Jenkinson added.
“Where else would it be?”
“Plenty have theirs up their asses.”
She had to nod. “They sure as hell do. I’m working from home,” she told him, then turned to Peabody. “I’m going to talk to Summerset, and Ivanna Liski if possible.”
“That’s a good angle. They both lived through it. I’ve got your consult with Mira on your schedule.”
“If you get anything more, send it.”
“Will do. I figure to see if McNab can dig any deeper than I am.”
“Do that. I’ve got an angle there. I’ll let you know if it comes to anything.”
She headed out, risked the elevator first.
Summerset would be looming in the foyer, as always, she expected. She could push there straight off. Too early for Roarke to be home, most likely, so her angle there would wait.
If Ivanna would talk to her, she could go to her, if necessary.
Clearer picture, bound to be, of what was going on in 2026 in Europe than she’d get from any research. Even firsthand accounts were secondhand by the time you read about them.
Summerset had lost his wife during the wars. She didn’t know when, only that she didn’t survive them.
She knew Ivanna had lost her husband. And had two sons from that marriage.
She knew that in the secondhand way of research once Ivanna moved to New York, and started—was it dating? Not thinking about that, Eve thought, absolutely not.
Renewed her friendship with Summerset.
That settled more smoothly.
When it occurred to her she’d already put in twelve hours and intended to put in more, she just shrugged.
Nadine wasn’t wrong. She was a hard case.