Page 169 of Bonded in Death

“Did you contact Giovanni Rossi, posing as Lawrence Summerset of New York, both former Underground team members, in order to lure Mr. Rossi to this city?”

“He’d hardly have come if I’d sent up a flare, and one does miss one’s old compatriots.”

“You had established yourself in New York, in the residence on Riverside Drive, as Reginald King.”

“It flows, doesn’t it?” This time instead of his hand, he just waved his fingers. “Reginaldfor royal, and of course, king.”

“Reginaldcomes from the LatinReginaldus, which stems fromregina. Meaning queen.”

He bared his teeth at Reo. “Don’t be absurd.”

“Queen King. Funny.” Peabody shifted to Mira. “Would choosing a name like that indicate delusions of grandeur? Because what I’m looking at in here sure doesn’t come off royal.”

“Not delusions as much as a deep and obsessive need to prove himself superior.”

“I have no need to prove what is.”

“We can sort all that out later.” And keep pissing him off, Eve thought. “He’s used a lot of names, and there’s probably a treasure trove of psychological issues in them, but for now, Mr. Potter, you communicated—we were able to access that communication from your electronics. Posing as his old friend, you asked Mr. Rossi to come to New York, and with this message, included tickets for his travel. You instructed him that he would be met upon his arrival.”

“A common courtesy. Didn’t your mother teach you manners? Oh, that’s right, you have no mother on record.” Eyes lively, he bared his teeth again. “No wonder you are what you are.”

“But enough about me,” Eve said easily. “Then, disguised as a driver, you met Mr. Rossi upon his arrival in New York. Nice work on the mask, by the way. It took our techs a few hours to analyze, extrapolate, whatever, to peel it away and come up with this.”

She slid the sketch out of her file. “Pretty good likeness.”

Shock rippled over his face, and anger had color flaring into it. But he shrugged.

“Technology is easily manipulated to achieve desired results.”

“You’d know. You hated Rossi, wanted him dead. Wanted them all dead. Wasp, Fox, Panther, Mole, Owl, Magpie, Cobra, Chameleon. The remainder of The Twelve, the Underground unit that fought Dominion and other violent fringe groups during the Urbans.”

“One doesn’t hate what’s beneath them. One only feels contempt.”

“Sure. They make up the unit you betrayed. The people, along with Leroy Dubois, whom you murdered, and Alice Dormer, who stopped you,who sacrificed her life to stop you. You spent decades in prison plotting and planning your escape for one primary purpose. To kill them all.”

“I had a purpose. Fawn prevented the full completion of that purpose.”

“Because she was able to warn her team of your betrayal, stopping the ambush set up to kill them all. So you had to run.”

“Retreat,” he corrected.

“You didn’t get far. Rossi found you. Wasp might have beaten you to death if Fox hadn’t stopped him.”

Eve angled her head, smiled just a little.

“Which was worse for your twisted ego? I wonder. Being caught and beaten, or being spared more beating by another you felt contempt for? I bet it’s a tough call.”

“I’d have handled Wasp. I’d have handled both of them.”

“But you didn’t. Rossi busted your nose, your jaw, cracked a few of your ribs. Bruised your kidneys.”

She glanced up from the medical report in the file.

“I bet you were pissing blood for a week.”

“You’re a crude, ignorant female.”

“I can’t argue with the ‘crude.’ Then, thanks to The Twelve, you ended up in Manchester, in Five Hells. It took you decades, and then the only way you couldhandleRossi was through deception.”

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