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“Save time, use the conference room ’link. Put Mira on.”
“Eve,” Mira began when they switched ’links.
“Is Mr. Mira at home?”
“He’s teaching an evening class at Columbia. He—”
“I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry. I need you to go down to Callaway. I need you to keep him busy, talking, distracted. Say nothing about the grandmother. You know what to do, what to say. Just keep him occupied. I don’t want him contacting or trying to contact MacMillon before, during, or after the bust.”
“I understand.” Mira’s voice remained calm, but fear lived in her eyes. “Do you think she would try to hurt my family?”
“She hasn’t had time to do anything about it, but I’ll make sure they’re all protected. I promise you. She needs time and space to plan, to research. We’re not going to give it to her. But we won’t take chances. Get to Callaway.”
She clicked off, started to use her ’link again to order protection details. Roarke laid a hand on her arm.
“It’s done.” He moved off the elevator with her into the garage. “Private security, Mira’s family, Peabody and McNab’s apartment, Reo’s, and so on.”
“It should be cops.” Then she took a breath. “Thanks.”
“One less thing for you and the department to worry about.”
“Okay.” And she set it aside. “Get me the layout of the condo—floor plan, exits, security. I’ll drive, we’re going hot until we’re close, then we’ll turn off the sirens.”
“Hot’s my favorite thing.”
Peabody had a chance for one quick gulp before Eve tore out of the garage.
“Gina Bellona,” she began. “In addition to her condo here, she has a home in London, a flat in Paris, and a villa in Sardinia. Her husband, deceased, was knighted for his contribution to science and humanitarian works.”
“Science,” Eve repeated while she punched vertical and zipped over a knot of traffic.
“Carlo Corelli—Brit mother, Italian father, dual citizenship, a scientist, primary work molecular chemistry. His father was one of the founders of Biotech Industries.”
“One of the leaders in the field,” Roarke told her while he worked. “Innovations and development of synthetic organs, cancer vaccines, fertility, auto-immune research. They’ve built health centers in areas where medicine and health care was a luxury or simply nonexistent.”
“Pharmacology—lots of drug research.”
“No question.”
“Perfect for her. How’d he buy it, Peabody—Corelli?”
“Slipped in the shower seven months ago.”
“About the time Teasdale says Menzini died. I bet Corelli had help in the shower.”
“Death ruled accidental, but it looks like his first wife and his children made some noise about the widow. I can probably find some dish on it in the scandal sheets.”
“Marries him, gets rich, gets access to all the drugs she wants—and some expertise. Menzini dies, and she’s done with Corelli. Wants this tribute, or revenge, or whatever the hell. She takes Corelli out, inherits, moves to New York.”
“Where she lives in a spacious, two-level condo,” Roarke put in. “Private elevator into a foyer. Secondary entrance/exit on south corner. Additional on second level, central. Video security, all entrances. There’s also an interior elevator. Terraces off first and second levels, roof terrace on second level. She’s on Fifty-two and Three, southeast corner.”
“What else is up there?”
“Three other units—one at each corner.” He continued to work quickly, coolly, while Eve drove like a lunatic. “A central elevator, a maintenance/housekeeping area with service elevators. Three stairways—north and south and in the maintenance area.”
“Got it. Peabody, send Reo the info on MacMillon’s properties.”
“She’s also got a limo and town car here in New York, as well as a private shuttle.” A small “Eek!” escaped Peabody as the car threaded through snarled traffic. “An all-terrain in Sardinia—and a yacht—town cars in London and Paris. Biotech’s got a branch here, a complex on Long Island, and a facility on Park. Oh, another in Jersey City.”
