Chapter 4
When Athena pulled in, a police car, a fire department car, and several random automobiles dotted the parking lot on the damaged side of the main building.
Under a cloudy sky, she didn’t need her sunglasses.
The complex was massive, with towering tanks girded by metal scaffolding and linked by wide pipes.
Athena shuddered at the thought of the consequences of an explosion in a chemical reactor containing methane, ammonia, or another volatile agent.
Yet it hadn’t happened. A terrorist could have done far more damage, both to the plant and to Houston, by choosing a more explosive target than a generator.
She stepped out of her car, noting the faintest trail of smoke rising above the burnt-out shell of the affected building. Dwarfed by the surrounding storage towers, the employee-heavy structure was only two stories tall. Her mind immediately began formulating hypotheses.
Several people in navy windbreakers, bearing the words “Crime Scene Unit” on the back, scoured the grass and cement around the twisted, blown-out, industrial-sized generator.
Detective Bach leaned on the hood of a gray sedan, smoking a cigarette, as if he were waiting for her.
Athena was relieved to spot Fire Inspector Bonnie Ballard and a man in a firefighter’s uniform exiting the charred doorway.
She’d worked with Ballard before and welcomed her collaboration on the case.
As she strode by, Bach crushed out his smoke with his shoe and fell in beside her. “I’m Elyan, by the way,” he said in an easy baritone.
She gave him a serious squint. “I’m Assistant Special Agent in Charge Bouvier, Detective Bach. Let’s see what Inspector Ballard has for us.”
“Fair,” he answered without a hint of insult. “I was just thinking that the bomber could have done a lot more damage if he’d wanted to.”
That observation grabbed Athena’s attention. Perhaps she’d judged him too quickly. “I was just thinking the same,” she said.
They met Bonnie on a sidewalk splattered with bits of burnt wood, warped metal, and sundry debris near the blast’s origin. “Special Agent Bouvier, Detective Bach,” she greeted, reaching to shake both their hands.
“Inspector Ballard,” Athena responded professionally.
She was long over the tinge of jealousy she’d fallen victim to upon learning that Bonnie and Flash were old friends and had served together in the same house before Ballard moved to fire investigations.
It had only been her insecurities talking.
Bonnie was closer to Flash’s age and attractive.
Lucky for Athena, Flash never regarded Bonnie with the same star-struck admiration she reserved for her.
“What can you show us?” Bach asked.
“Let’s start with this.” Bonnie motioned toward the destroyed generator.
“The crime scene unit is still combing the area for anything probative, but yesterday they collected some bomb components that had been attached inside this unit and remotely detonated. The panel was locked, but it would have been easy enough for someone with the right tools to get inside.”
To Athena, it looked like mangled metal and wires, like an onion with its layers peeled back.
“The blast, whether by intention or happenstance, blew into the side of the building where the main offices were located.” The three pivoted to view the hole through the bricks, mottled with black soot and angry scorch marks.
Parts of the roof lay about on the ground or drooped insecurely above them.
“That’s where the white-collar workers would have all been if not for being called to the manager’s meeting,” Bach commented.
“Instead, firefighters rescued a cleaning woman from the copy room and pulled Inspector Jeff Nolan’s body out.
Captain O’Riley said the lieutenant leading the interior search and fire suppression wasn’t sure if he was alive and sent one of her crew to carry him to safety. ”
Probably Flash, Athena thought. She’d want to save everyone—even if they were already beyond saving.
“Good thing too,” he added. “If the body and wallet in his pocket had suffered any more damage, he’d have been much harder to identify.”
“Can we go inside?” Athena asked.
Bonnie gave her a stern look.
“You went inside,” Athena pointed out. “I need to see where the victim was found.”
“Yeah, I’d like a look-see myself,” Bach agreed.
Bonnie let out a sigh. “You wear hard hats, don’t touch anything, and stay right with me. That part of the building isn’t sound.”
“Understood,” Athena complied.
Bonnie’s aide fetched hard hats for Athena and Bach to wear and brought up the rear as the fire inspector led them inside. The lingering smell of pungent smoke and burnt plastic clung to the air. The floors, walls, and ceiling—what remained of them—were still damp.
“Watch your step,” the lean fireman said.
Athena had mastered moving through crime scenes in heels years ago. Bach’s foot crunched through some bits of ceiling tile and fragmented ducting.
“Most employees were down that hallway,” Bonnie said, pointing to the right, “but a few folks were in a restroom, the hallway, and the two I told you about.” She stopped at an open door, precariously hanging from its hinges.
“This is where the custodian was. She sustained smoke inhalation and some minor burns and was taken to the hospital.”
Bonnie continued on into a blacker, more decimated space. Athena could see patterns on the walls, holes where the blaze burned clear through. Instead of a ceiling, a black cavern rose above them, ash drifting onto her shoulders. To their left, a charred door lay in front of an open doorway.
“This is where they found Nolan’s body,” Bonnie stated.
Bach beat Athena to the entrance, probably his idea of gallantry.
“Completely burnt out,” he said as Athena followed him inside.
He was right. She wondered if this office used cloud storage.
The exterior, the rust and wear, all struck Athena as old and in need of repair.
She recalled they had mentioned at the meeting that Gulf Allied Chemicals had been cited for safety and environmental violations.
Were they about to be so charged again, possibly shut down? Then she frowned.
“Why would Nolan have been in here by himself? And if he wasn’t, who panicked and left him behind?”
“Good questions for the plant manager,” Bach replied. “I’m making a wild guess that these people didn’t back up their records to the cloud. I hope I’m wrong, but we’ll soon find out.”
Athena scanned the room. It might have contained evidence of negligence or corruption, but she didn’t see any life-threatening hazards.
“Where are the chemicals that were in danger of exploding?” she asked.
“This way.” Bonnie led them down the hallway and around a corner to the staging area, stacked with 55-gallon drums. Fire-retardant foam clung to the barrels and pooled around their bases.
“From what I understand,” Bonnie reported, “tanker trucks, which were loaded outdoors in another part of the complex, transported most of their chemicals. But many customers order smaller batches; thus, the 55-gallon drums and the loading dock door for regular box trucks to haul.”
Subdued light poured through the rolled-up garage door at the far end of the spacious room. A couple of forklifts lazily sat askew nearby.
“Good thing you guys got the fire out before it spread in here,” said Bach, his eyes wide.
“It sure was,” Bonnie agreed.
“This doesn’t strike me as any kind of terrorism,” Athena said as she glanced around at hundreds of lethal barrels of chemicals. “If so, why not blow the giant tanks around the plant? Why not target this room itself? A generator?”
She shook her head and met Bach’s gaze. “Whoever did this,” he proposed, “either specifically wanted to take out the office, where they’d expect to find the manager and his white-collar underlings, or they just wanted to make a statement.”
“It’s possible the perpetrator didn’t know the explosive would cause so much damage to the building,” Bonnie proposed. “Why not throw a bomb through the office window if he just wanted to kill the people inside?”
“It’s fortunate there weren’t more casualties,” Athena said, though she thought any unnatural death was a tragedy. “Do you have the manager’s name and contact information?”
“I do,” Bach answered. “A Mr. Justin Booker. HPD officials told him to stay home today, lock his door, and not talk to the media. I can have him brought to the station, though. Or, your turf, if you prefer.” He tilted his head in deference to her.
Athena felt it was imperative to establish who was in charge and who held the secondary role. Yes, a joint investigation, but under her purview.
“Thank you, Detective. FBI headquarters will be more suitable for this interview, which you are welcome to sit in on.”
He let out a dry laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sure I’ll have some questions as well, Agent Bouvier.”
She pinned him with a stare frigid enough to have snuffed out yesterday’s fire. “That’s Assistant Special Agent in Charge Bouvier. How quickly you forget.”
“Anyway,” Bonnie said, clearly trying to tamp down the tension in the room. “I’d prefer to get you out of here before anything else collapses. Let’s exit through this loading door access and walk around the outside, shall we?”
Detective Bach smirked and extended an arm. “After you, Assistant Special Agent in Charge.”
Athena wanted to roll her eyes at him. She didn’t.
The fresh air felt good against the lining of her nose after being in such a rank, closed-in place. It was a typical winter day in Houston—damp, cloudy, with a chance of rain, and cool enough to need a light jacket. Her mohair blazer was just right.
Bonnie chattered on about the weather while Athena focused on how to approach Mr. Booker. She wanted a complete picture of him before they sat down together.
“And they’re predicting snow, can you believe it?”
“When?” Bach asked.
“Tuesday or Wednesday,” Bonnie answered. “We should be finished here before then, thank goodness.”
When they reached the parking lot, Athena turned to Bach. “Detective, let’s plan Mr. Booker’s interview for two o’clock this afternoon. I want a thorough background check on him before we start. Is that satisfactory?”
“Sure,” he answered, scratching his stubble.
I knew it had to itch, she thought with satisfaction.
“Would you like me to send agents to get him, or do you want the honors?” In the spirit of cooperation, she was willing to give him some say in the matter.
“Your house,” he answered. “He’d probably rather have dudes in suits than uniforms picking him up anyway. I don’t suppose you’d like to grab a quick lunch?” The hope in his eyes was almost endearing. Almost.
She answered with a flat stare.
“All right, then,” Bach said. “Inspector Ballard, thank you for letting us in there.”
“Yes, thank you, Inspector Ballard,” Athena echoed. She might call Flash’s friend “Bonnie” in private, but they were on duty, so formal it was.
“I’ll let you know if our investigation turns up anything else useful.
The Houston Crime Lab has the bomb fragments.
They’ll report their findings to both of your offices.
I hope you catch this guy,” Bonnie added, with a glance up at the towers of toxic chemicals.
“We came within a hair’s breadth of a major disaster. ”
Athena gave her a grave nod. Now, to dig up everything there is to know about Justin Booker.