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“I’ll pick up where he left off, get more.”
“Let’s all get more. I want to know everything there is to know about this cast of characters, including their freaking shoe size, by midday. Move on it.
“Stone, any updates on the illegals?”
“I found a fresh source for Zeus that’s going to make my lieutenant happy, but it doesn’t look like it connects to this. The LSD’s running cold, but I’m still pulling on it. I poked, and can tell you there haven’t been any on-record requisitions from Christopher Lester or his lab for the ingredients necessary to create the agent. Not in the last two years I was able to access.”
“All right, keep pulling.”
“Lieutenant? I think he’s got a legit source. I mean, a lab or chemical distributor. Some way to access the synthetics, the LSD off the street. I think he’s got a connection.”
Strong shifted as Eve waited for her to elaborate. “This guy? He’s not a street guy. He’s a suit. Nothing in his background shows he used, has or had any street connections. Some suit tries to make a buy like he’d have to for this? It should pop out. Going underground, overseas, even off-planet. There’s not even a whiff. There should be.”
“I agree,” Teasdale put in. “Added to it, he has no experience in this kind of chemistry. While he may follow the formula, I believe he’d need someone to show him how to set up, what he’d need, how to handle the elements. This is advanced work, and I don’t think a novice could accomplish it without guidance.”
“So, back to a chemist. Stone, have a talk with Christopher Lester. See if he has any ideas on where Callaway could access the synthetics. What labs in the area—because it’s going to be in New York—routinely handle that sort of thing. There’s a connection. Find it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Russell Callaway’s a medic, now into farming. Maybe he’s got a chemical source, or has some experience there. Farms use chemicals. Callendar, see what you can find out, see if the Callaways bought any strange chemicals in the last few months.”
“On that.”
“Doctor Mira, if I could have a minute. Peabody, take a deeper dig on the Callaways’ financials. See if there’s any indication they’ve gotten any scratch from the grandmother out of England, or made any unusual purchases from a chemical distributor.”
She waited till the room cleared. “There are a lot of ifs,” she told Mira. “I need you to work with them. Let’s start with if Audrey Hubbard knew where she came from, knew her own story and passed that onto her son, does his background data give any indication?”
“It would depend, of course, how the information was related. All indications are Callaway had a reasonably normal childhood, though he would have needed to adjust to several moves during his formative and teenage years. While he was a loner, he was also uprooted several times during those formative years, and this makes it difficult to form lasting relationships. His records show no discipline problems, no juvenile record.”
“Yeah, that’s the thing. Normal, normal, but all those relocations. Did they relocate because of the father’s itchy feet, or because there was something hinky with the kid?”
“Hinky?” Mira repeated.
“Yeah, hinky. He’s acting up, or causing some sort of concern, so you pick up and move, start again. The Hubbards did that—only once, but they picked up, moved, started over. Let’s try this.”
She stepped to the board, tapped Callaway’s photo. “He didn’t know, either because his mother didn’t know, or opted not to tell him. He finds out, comes across some sort of information, or somebody slips up and says something that makes him wonder. He goes back, hunts for the information.”
She tapped Audrey Hubbard’s then Menzini’s picture in turn.
“What’s a loner by nature, with no solid or lasting relationships, who feels he’s stuck on the promotion ladder because other people are getting the breaks going to do about that?”
“You think he found out Menzini was his grandfather, and this was his
trigger, or his excuse, to kill.”
“His trigger or excuse to use his grandfather’s method to make a statement, to punish, to advance himself, to use others to kill. To be important. And by doing so eliminate two coworkers, both of whom he could consider in his way. A violent nature suppressed for so long, given release. Given, in a way, permission. This is who I am, where I came from. At last I know.”
“He was raised, by all appearances, by two decent people.”
“I don’t know that yet. What I have is an older, potentially dominant father. A mother who lived her life caring for others—her parents, then her child. He’d see that as weak.”
“Do you?”
“I see it as a choice—not one I’d make for damn sure, but a choice. Unless she’s been pushed into it, which I intend to find out. I don’t look at Callaway and see myself, if that’s what you’re worried about. Bad blood? I’ve got it, but it’s not an excuse to live a crappy life. It sure as hell isn’t an excuse to kill. Maybe I’ve got a violent nature, but I channel it. Mostly.” She shrugged. “I need to bring him in before he decides to do it again. I have to keep him in, because if he walks out, he’s going to do it again. He’ll find a way. I have to know him, know where to drill. I need his trigger.”
“Until you’ve talked to the mother—and I’d also like to talk to her at some point—it’s only speculation.”
“I may not have time to pull it out of the mother first, and I’ll take your speculation over most people’s absolutes.”
