Chapter 32
Detective Bach breezed up to meet Athena in the hallway outside the interview room. The reek of cigarette smoke encircling him like a cloud announced he’d been out for a smoke break. At least he’d shaved that morning. He popped a breath mint and straightened his tie.
“Ready?” he asked.
Athena and the team had dug up more useful information on Mora and were ready to use it. At that moment, lab techs were examining every inch of his GMC Canyon and were bound to turn up something. Still, a confession would serve their case much better than a pile of circumstantial evidence.
She had freshened her lipstick and fussed with her hair. Paulson had said her sharp-edged beauty would intimidate even the namesake, the mythical Greek goddess. The boots didn’t hurt. “Ready.”
Bach opened the door, and Athena strode in with unhurried grace, inspecting Isaac Mora with cool calculation.
An utterly ordinary-looking man sat before her, relaxed and seemingly at ease.
He was the sort of man who could disappear into a crowd without going anywhere.
Tanned skin, dark brown hair, stubbly scruff, casual clothes—nothing about Isaac Mora demanded a second glance.
Except his eyes. Smoky quartz and keenly observant, they didn’t quite match the amiable expression. Athena’s impression was that he studied her right back behind his thin smile.
Bach pulled out her chair, settled her into it, and took the one beside her. “I’m HPD Detective Bach, and this is ASAC Bouvier of the FBI. This interview is being recorded. Mr. Mora, you’ve been read your rights. Would you like to have an attorney present for questioning?”
“I don’t believe that will be necessary at this time,” he answered smoothly.
“I hope to apologize for leading your agents on a chase, answer your questions, and pay any restitution the law requires.” He spread his palms as far as the handcuffs he wore allowed.
“If I deem it necessary, I’ll let you know I need to call my attorney. ”
Very sure of himself, Athena thought. “If you don’t mind my asking, how is it that a janitor can afford his own lawyer?”
Mora’s eyes sparkled. “Friend of the family. Now, on to your questions. I already testified to changing a spark plug in the outdoor generator last Friday morning—early, between 9:00 and 9:30. I didn’t see any sign of a bomb. Then again, I wasn’t looking for one.”
“And then you performed a quick clean in the office,” Bach added.
“Yes. Mr. Booker asked me to make sure it was in acceptable condition for the OSHA guy’s inspection.”
“The ‘OSHA guy’ had a name,” Athena said, tone clipped. “Federal EPA inspector Jeff Nolan, who was participating in a joint inspection with OSHA. How long have you worked for Gulf Allied Chemicals?”
Mora considered her with an amused expression. “I’m certain you have already obtained basic information such as my employment record, Agent Bouvier. You know I’ve been there for almost five years.”
Bach opened his folder and flipped a few pages.
“Yes, Mr. Mora. You’ve had quite a colorful career path thus far.
Scholarship to MIT, a chemical engineering major.
But they didn’t understand what big things you were destined for and expelled you just for being curious and using school equipment without permission. ”
Athena expected a passionate reaction from him, or at least a flinch. Instead, Mora took a calm breath and shrugged. “A misunderstanding. It was their loss, really.”
“Uh, huh.” Bach turned a page. “Then you bounced around between chemical companies and research jobs because you were arrogant and difficult to get along with. Couldn’t hold a job to save your life.
It must have been frustrating, since you were clearly smarter than your coworkers—heck, probably your bosses too. ”
“I was young,” he excused in an even tone. “Full of myself, didn’t understand how the world outside a classroom operated. I’m more mature now. If you checked my record at Gulf Allied, you saw not a single complaint lodged.”
“Yes, about that,” Athena said, redirecting his attention to her.
She looked for the familiar signs of desire she could often spark in a man.
They weren’t there. Could he be gay? Or maybe he doesn’t care about sex at all.
I suppose I might not be his type. She’d known happily married men to practically drool over her.
“How does a chemical engineer switch career tracks so drastically to private investigator and then janitor? I must admit that you are grossly overqualified for your current post.”
“Why would any reasonable human being remain content to do the same thing year after year, decade after decade, when there are so many choices, so many experiences out there to be had?” Mora adopted a philosophical air.
“I don’t care to lock myself into a single mold or be defined by my job.
Gulf Allied Chemicals pays a decent salary and isn’t demanding.
It leaves me time and energy for my creative endeavors. ”
“Such as?” Bach asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Mora mused. “Writing, painting, communing with nature. Call me a Renaissance man.”
Athena frowned. “My agents found no paints or canvases in your residence. But they have found quite a bit that you’ve written.” She nodded to Bach, who selected a sheet from his folder.
“You’ve published several anti-authority theses and what can only be described as anarchist poetry. Your ideology suggests all authority figures are corrupt and operate within a conspiracy to manipulate society and how it progresses.”
Mora steepled his fingers, slowly nodding as he stared at the wall between them. “That’s all true. So is every word in my essays and poems.”
“You believe all authority figures are corrupt and have conspired to beguile the public into believing and behaving in ways of their, our, choosing?” Athena considered herself an authority figure, though not on a par with governing officials.
She knew for certain she wasn’t corrupt or manipulative—except when it came to gaining criminals’ confessions. This accusation was insulting.
“We also recovered chatroom conversations that reveal your anti-authority dogma,” Bach said, floating a printed transcript across the table.
Mora barely glanced at it. “You go so far as to say extreme measures might become necessary, and we—group members, believers, whomever—should amass funds with which to wage our war by any means available.”
Returning his gaze to Athena, a smile crossed his lips.
“When I reference authorities, I don’t mean you two in particular, and extreme measures needn’t entail violence.
Surely, even you know deep down somewhere that we’re all being led like sheep into the pens they choose for us, and the media is a significant component of the mass hypnosis.
‘Be afraid of this,’ they say, ‘don’t believe that.
We are the keepers of the law.’ But whether you accept my ‘conspiracy theories’ or not, they aren’t criminal.
You believe in the First Amendment, don’t you? ”
“You are quite correct,” Bach stated. “Your beliefs are not against the law. But stealing products from your workplace and selling them under the table to unscrupulous buyers, without authorization or paying the proper taxes, is illegal.”
“Hmm.” Mora lifted his hands to rub the side of his face. “When did I supposedly engage in this illegal activity, and with whom? Where is your evidence, your witnesses?”
“Mr. Booker testified that he was approached by someone at the chemical plant four years ago,” Athena began, and laid it out for him, including the code name Nexus.
Mora laughed. “And you think I’m this Nexus person?”
Bach flipped a page. “We’ve discovered a great deal more of your history, including the online name you used when you were in college: Nexus.”
Still, Mora didn’t react visibly. He sure got his emotions under control since berating the dean at MIT, Athena thought. But he clearly still detests authority.
“Nexus. A connection, a link. A connected group. The center or focus,” he listed.
“I’m sure many net surfers have used that moniker over the years.
If Mr. Booker’s partner in crime calls himself that, it’s purely a coincidence that I once had the same screen name.
Now I go by Mr. Klean, with a K. Is that suspicious? ”
“You caused a fender-bender, ran a red light, and almost struck a child in the road during your reckless race to evade Agents Ice and Hernandez,” Athena replied with stone precision.
“I was afraid for my life, Agent Bouvier,” he said with practiced restraint. “And I didn’t hit or hurt anyone. My vehicle sustained much more damage than the scratch on the fire engine.”
“Yeah, well, our lab is going over your vehicle with a fine-toothed comb, Mr. Mora,” Bach responded.
Athena added, “And my agents returned from your house with evidence to process. You might be smart, but nobody’s perfect. We’ll find something that links you to the theft, the bomb, or Nolan’s murder.”
“Will you?” Mora blinked. He pursed his lips and shook his head. “I don’t think so. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go home.”
“Not so fast.” Bach leaned forward, pinning him with as much intimidation as he could muster. “We’re holding you on the current charges. Considering the lateness of the hour, the weather, and the weekend, you aren’t going anywhere tonight.”
“Don’t worry,” Athena said with a flick of her wrist. “We’ll find you a warm, comfortable cell—with electricity and running water. Isn’t that accommodating of us?”
Sinking back in his chair, Isaac Mora smirked at her. “I appreciate your kind hospitality, Agent Bouvier. Do I get some magazines?”
Athena swept from the interview room without betraying her frustration. She had been sure Bach would get a rise out of him. “Agents Ice, Hernandez, please escort our suspect to lockup. Get him a magazine, preferably Women’s Day or Martha Stewart Living.”
Ice laughed, his cheeks turning red. “Being behind bars isn’t enough punishment?”
She pinned him with a sardonic expression. “He said he wanted a magazine. He didn’t specify a title.”
“We’ll take care of it,” Hernandez said, and the two entered the room to collect the suspect.
“We should’ve known he wouldn’t roll over easily,” Bach said as he walked with Athena toward the bullpen.
“I’m afraid if we don’t come up with some hard evidence, he’s going to get away with this,” Athena confessed, her throat tight.
Once through the door, she addressed the room. “We need more.”
Campbell glanced at the clock.
Athena glowered. “Yes, it’s five o’clock, and our biggest chance of success depends on what the lab can pull out of his truck and residence.”
“Don’t forget the tip line,” Howard said optimistically.
“I’ve been going through the call records.
Two rookie agents have answered 167 calls since Whitmore announced his reward—nearly 400 since Kerrington’s press conference last Sunday.
Most aren’t credible, but I’ve pulled two dozen that warrant investigation. ”
“If all of you take a few each, you should be done with follow-up calls and verification by six,” Athena said. “I’ll be in my office.”
She spotted Bach sitting on Shoops’ desktop as she strode into her private retreat and closed the door. She took out her phone and sent a text to Flash.
Sweetie, I won’t make it home tonight. Sorry. Love you.
A message came right back. I thought you caught the guy. I was there and everything.
We got him, all right, just not enough evidence to charge him with murder yet.
And you must get that evidence tonight? ??
Athena’s heart sank. She would much rather spend the night with Flash and Snuffles than at her desk. The sooner we wrap this the better, and I have plans for tomorrow.
Flash responded, ??????, making Athena laugh. Then she read, Do what you do. I’m already falling asleep. I’m off tomorrow, will be here when you get home, ready to go spelunking. ??
You’re a terrible tease, Athena typed as a tingle ran through her. Love you.
Putting her phone down, she woke her computer and got to work.