Page 66 of Bonded in Death

“Yes, there are. That would require a great deal of trust from the one being simulated.”

“What did he have to lose? He likes risk, he goes for the edge. He thinks he’s fucking smart.”

“He does. Sit.” Mira rose, walked on heels the exact color of her necklace to her AutoChef. Eve knew she’d get tea, and maybe that wasn’t so bad considering the amount of coffee she’d consumed before nine hundred hours.

“Conrad Potter. An egoist, a sociopath, and one who kills as much for pleasure as gain. As he has no sense of loyalty, he would have named names at his trial. It may have benefited him, and his own benefit is paramount. Intelligent, a skilled liar, a man also skilled in wearing masks, being whoever he needs to be to win. While he worked for the extremist group, Dominion, as well as the Underground, he had no loyalty to either of them. Ideology isn’t part of his makeup.”

“Whatever got him more.”

Mira handed Eve the delicate cup of tea, took her own, and sat in the twin scoop chair.

“And, I’d say, entertained him more. He played both sides, used one against the other, and it amused him. He stole because he could. Funds, weapons, supplies. Looking to the future. His own. Only his own.”

“He could’ve destroyed the other HQ. The Twelve.”

“He may have planned to. Things went wrong. But I believe he saw no purpose, no future there. The wars were ending. Those fringes remained. Dominion, with Flame, looked to burn it all down. Why would he want that? Why stockpile funds and so on if there’ll be nothing left?”

“So when Magpie found the HQ, when—what is it—Mole located the prison, he decided this was a way out. Destroy the HQ, break Dominion’s back, and take out his team at the same time. That works for me.”

“It may have worked for him, but Alice Dormer got in the way. She’s the hero of the piece.”

“He’s had five years to get to his money and the rest. They never got that out of him. Years to change his appearance, and skills in intelligence, in covert ops to use again. Just shake the dust off there.”

“If so, he likely targeted Rossi first, as Rossi found him first. And hurt him, physically, enough to prevent his escape.”

“Broken fingers. My card between them.”

“The killer—whether Potter or an agent of his—wants acknowledgment and a challenge. His ego doesn’t allow him to consider you’d best him. He’ll complete his mission, and then kill you.”

Mira sipped her tea.

“Which you’ve already concluded.”

“I’ve concluded that’s the plan. I’ll be screwing up those plans.”

“I’m depending on it. Don’t underestimate him, Eve. The killer is highly intelligent, a risk seeker, yes, but very skilled. He’s organized, well-funded, plans carefully. His plans are convoluted, but he enjoys that. Puzzles that take time to solve, add complications for him, but how clever is he? Heloves the complications, the superiority of creating them, rather than the quick, clean, and simple kill.”

“Who are you profiling? The killer or Potter?”

Mira shifted, recrossed her excellent legs. “It fits both. Or, if you’re right, only has to fit one.”

“Potter has all the motivation. A vendetta decades in the making. The others lived full lives, could go where they wanted, do as they pleased. He didn’t, couldn’t. Because they stopped him.

“The way he killed Rossi—the poison gas for Wasp.”

“A deliberate choice. The deliberation would appeal to him. An entertaining death for him.”

“He needs a place. He’d want something upscale or at least roomy, wouldn’t he, after prison?”

“Very likely.”

Tiny pieces, Eve thought. Speculative, but tiny pieces.

“I don’t know how long he’s been in New York, so I don’t have a way to whittle down possibilities. He had to have a place to stash the limo. So maybe he has a place with a garage, or rented a garage.

“I know who he is. I know what he is. But it’s not enough.”

“You hope to learn more from Summerset’s teammates.”

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