Page 77 of Devil's Due

“He could have done it earlier!” Manny yelled, and for a blinding second Lucia thought he’d fire. But then he threw the gun back in the drawer and slammed it and stalked away. “Fuck. Do what you want. I’ll be in my office.”

He went to the far door at the end of the room, punched in numbers and went through. The door—at least three inches of solid metal—sealed with a solidthunkbehind him, and the lights on the panel turned bloodred.

“What happened back there?” That was Borden, who was looking furious and ruffled and belligerent. His hair was spiked again, not so much from overapplication of product but from running his hands through it in distraction. “Where are they? Laskins and the others?”

Simms, for answer, checked his watch. He was still looking down at it when he said quietly, “By this time? Nearly all of them are dead. The rest are running for their lives. Unfortunate.”

Borden’s mouth opened and closed, and he leaned on the makeshift conference table and let his head drop forward. Struggling for control. “Laskins?” he asked.

“Milo Laskins is alive,” Simms said. “I don’t see any possibility that he’ll have to give up his life in the current scenario. However, his days at Gabriel, Pike & Laskins are numbered, Mr. Borden. Your star is in ascendance. Feel free to be grateful.”

Borden’s head snapped up. His face was stark. “Grateful?”

“You had no real affection for those people, and we both know it. You disagreed with them quite a number of times, most recently just today. Let’s not have any gnashing of teeth.”

“You unbelievable bastard.”

“Take a seat.”

“Not with you. You arranged this—”

“Take a seat, Borden.” Simms’s voice snapped with command, and for a second there was nothing soft about him, nothing at all. Lucia remembered Jazz’s description of him.Creepy.“The rest of you. Sit down. I don’t have time for your histrionics.”

“What about mine?” Ben McCarthy’s voice was soft, and somehow even more intense than Simms’s. Lucia looked over at him, but he was turned away, showing her only a hard profile, an angular shoulder, a fist clenched at his side. “You got time for mine?”

Simms met his eyes. “I’m sorry. That was not my choice, Ben. That was never my choice.”

“It served your purposes.”

“Yes. It did. It does. It will. What you’re referring to had to happen. How it happened wasyourdoing, by the decisions you made. You knew what the Society wanted from you. You chose to do otherwise.” Simms studied him for a few seconds in silence. “How long have you known?”

“They told me, earlier today. Indirectly.” McCarthy’s lips stretched, baring his teeth, but it wasn’t a smile. “They said I’d served my purpose. And we both know what that purpose was, from the very beginning.”

“All right, I’m calling bullshit,” Jazz said flatly, and slid into a chair next to McCarthy. She leaned on her elbows, staring at Simms. “What the hell are you two talking about?”

Nobody answered her. Borden pantomimedI have no ideawith a helpless lift of his shoulders.

“About what happened to me when I was missing,” Lucia said. “Am I correct? Gregory Ivanovich was behind that, at least.”

“He did his part.” Simms’s yellowed teeth flashed in a smile. “Don’t worry. Mr. Ivanovich left and isn’t looking back.”

“Something happened to me while I was missing.”

“You were treated for your illness.”

“Something else.”

Simms, for answer, removed a sealed manila envelope from his jacket pocket, unfolded it and slid it across the table. Not to her. To McCarthy.

McCarthy didn’t touch it. “What is it?”

“Proof. I was hoping we might be able to avoid the unpleasantries, but you seem determined.”

“You son of a bitch. You cold-blooded—”

“In private,” Simms said. “As you said, it is a personal matter.”

McCarthy shoved back from the table and stared down for a few seconds.

---