“On my way back from a very long lunch meeting.” With those magical wisps of Ireland in his voice, he smiled with that perfectly sculpted mouth. “Did you manage a midday meal, Lieutenant?”
“I had some rat soup.”
Eyebrows as dark as his mane of black silk lifted. “How adventurous of you.”
“I’d rather have pizza. Anyway, I need an expert consultant, civilian—with a specialty in business. Big business. Mergers specifically.”
“You’re on the bombing at Quantum.” His smile faded. “Twelve dead at last count. Is Willimina Karson still living?”
“She was when I left the hospital. In a coma, critical, but among the living. You know her?”
“Only a bit. I knew Derrick Pearson a bit more, but not well. Still, I’m sorry for it all. A disgruntled employee who snapped is the line coming through the reports. I take it that’s not altogether accurate?”
“Not even close. Can you carve out time tonight? It might take a while.”
“I can, and always will. But I might be able to do better. I need an hour or so yet, but after that I can come to you at Central. Or wherever you may be.”
“Likely here at this stage. I’d appreciate it. I can’t get the meat when I don’t understand the . . . menu,” she decided.
“Then I’ll come to you when I finish up. Meanwhile, see if you can get my cop something more appealing than rat soup.”
“Yeah, thanks. See you when you get here.”
She clicked off as she approached Whitney’s outer office and admin.
“Go right in, Lieutenant,” the admin told her. “He’s expecting you.”
She stepped in.
Whitney stood at his wall of windows, his hands behind his back in parade rest as he studied his view of New York. He had broad shoulders, and they carried the weight of command well. His close-cropped hair had gray shot through the black.
“Before you report,” he began without turning, “I’ll tell you my wife and Derrick Pearson’s have been friends more than twenty years.”
“I’m very sorry, Commander, for her loss, and yours.”
“Thank you. Anna and Rozilyn Pearson are and have been close. While I consider her and considered Derrick friends, Anna and Roz are more like sisters. This is a very difficult day.”
He turned then, his wide, dark face solemn. “I want to add that when I informed Anna you’d taken charge of the investigation she expressed relief, and told me she’d comfort Rozilyn by telling her we have the best seeking answers and justice for Derrick.”
Rather than going to sit at his desk, he stood where he was, the towers and spires of Manhattan rising into the pale blue March sky at his back. “What answers do you have at this time?”
“You’re aware, sir, of the home invasion on the Rogan/Greenspan residence?”
“I have the report from the first-on-scene.”
“Two men—as both the wife and daughter identify the assailants as men—entered the residence in the early hours of Saturday morning. Detective Callendar is, at this time, analyzing, but reported on scene that the security on the home had been compromised gradually, layer by layer, over several attempts since December. Also in December, when the negotiations for the merger of Quantum and Econo began to solidify, Rogan’s domestic, and the only nonfamily member to have the security code, had her wallet and ’link lifted from her handbag. She reported same.”
“Ah,” was all he said.
“Further in December, an assistant in Rogan’s department returned home to find her apartment broken into. Her comp—with work data on it—was among the things taken.”
Whitney nodded. “It’s my understanding Rogan was marketing. He wasn’t finance or legal, or someone who would have been intimately connected with the terms of the merger or in its negotiations.”
“No, sir. But he and his team had worked on the marketing campaign for the merger, and he was to present that at the meeting this morning. Commander, they tortured him and his wife, his eight-year-old daughter for more than two full days. They beat his wife in front of him, let him know they could and would rape and kill her—and his daughter. They had cameras in the basement room where they moved and held the wife, and another in the daughter’s room where she was restrained to the bed.”
“I understand the duress, but Rogan walked into that conference room alone, and twelve people are dead.”
“I don’t know if it’s altogether true he was alone, sir. Some of the statements we’ve taken indicate he seemed to be speaking to someone, and they forced the daughter to call for her father into a ’link, to specifically cry out for him to help her.”