“A cut, of course. Money is always good.” She eased back in her seat, gaze returning to the windshield. “When I got into this life, I only wanted three things. Money, power and respect. A girl like you, comes from a nice middle-class background, born after the so-called sexual revolution, gets a good education, takes on a man’s job. I’m sure it wasn’t as easy as we might hope, but it was possible. These days, girls don’t know what it is to want those things and know you’ve got a snowball’s chance in hell of getting them. I fought like you couldn’t imagine and got everything I wanted. But it wasn’t enough.”

A long pause as she watched Jack fill the tank.

She continued. “They say that man gains immortality through his children. I don’t have any. Never wanted them. What I do have are students. I take raw clay and I fashion something remarkable.”

“That’s what you want to do with me. Make me better.”

A laugh so sharp it startled me. “Oh, you don’t like that idea, do you? You can play the cool professional, act like you don’t give a shit what anyone thinks, but you’ve got your share of ego, of ambition. You’re just good at hiding it. Reminds me of someone else.” Her gaze slid to Jack, now walking to the bathroom. “What I can make you, Nadia, isn’t better. It’s famous. Legendary. Reach the point where you can do exactly the kind of work you want and nothing else.”

I stared out the window, watching Jack as he returned.

“He’s still with me, isn’t he?” Evelyn said, as if reading my thoughts. “I haven’t damaged him. Haven’t made him anything he didn’t want to be. Jack doesn’t hang around because he feels obligated. He wouldn’t do that and you know it. So if I’m good enough for him…”

Jack dipped his head, peering into the car, gaze shooting to Evelyn, as if he could see us watching him and talking.

“I’ll let you think about it, Dee,” she murmured. “Take all the time you need.”

For over an hour, I’d been standing in front of a fifth-story window, watching the parade route fill. To pass the time, I mentally ran through ballistics tables, recalculating the distance, velocity, trajectory, wind drift, making sure I had everything right.

I’d have rather been in one of the taller office buildings down the street, but if there were SWAT team snipers here, that’s where they’d be. And even if there weren’t, the Feds would be checking out the best perches in case Wilkes was trying for a sniper shot himself. So I had to make do with one that was third rate.