"I don't think so."
"Are you acquainted with Howard Bassi, more commonly known as Fixer?"
"No."
"What do you do with your free time, Mr. Lamont?"
"My—my free time?"
She smiled again. The change in rhythm had thrown him off, as she'd intended. "Hobbies, sports, entertainment. Roarke doesn't work you twenty-four/seven, does he?"
"I—No." His gaze flicked to Roarke, then back. "I…play a little handball."
"Team or solo?"
He lifted his hand, rubbed it over his mouth. "Mostly solo."
"Your father made bombs during the French War," she continued. "Did he work team, or solo?"
"I—he worked for the SRA—the Social Reform Army. I guess that's a team."
"I assumed he freelanced, worked for the highest bidder."
Color rushed back into Lamont's face. "My father was a patriot."
"Sabotage for causes. Terrorists often call themselves patriots." She kept her voice mild, but saw the shimmer of anger in his eyes for the first time. "Do you believe in sabotage for causes, Lamont? In the slaughter and the sacrifice of the innocent for a just and righteous cause?"
He opened his mouth, closed it again, then took one long breath. "War is different. During my father's time, our country had been seized by exploitive bureaucrats. The second revolution in France was necessary to give its people back the power and justice that are their right."
"So…" Eve smiled a little. "I take that as a yes."
"I don't make bombs for causes. I make them for mining, for the demolition of old buildings. Empty buildings. For military testing. Contracts," he said, smoothly now. "Autotron is a respected and reputable company."
"You bet. You like making boomers?"
"We don't make boomers here." The tone was slightly scathing now and subtly more French. "Our devices are highly sophisticated, technologically advanced. We produce the best on the market."
"Sorry. You like making sophisticated, technologically advanced devices?"
"Yes. I enjoy my work. Do you enjoy yours?"
A little cocky now, Eve noted. Interesting. "I enjoy the results of mine. How about you?"
"I believe in utilizing my skills."
"Me, too. Thank you, Mr. Lamont. That's all."
The little smile that had begun to form faded. "I can go?"
"Yes, thank you. End record, Peabody. Thanks for the use of the room, Roarke."
"We're always pleased to cooperate with the police at Autotron." He lifted a sleek eyebrow in Lamont's direction. "I believe Lieutenant Dallas is finished with you, Lamo
nt. You're free to return to your work."
"Yes, sir." He rose, stiffly, and walked from the room.
Eve sat back. "He was lying."