Chapter 21
Athena grabbed lunch on the drive back to the office. The wind had picked up, and the air felt cooler than that morning. A weeping yaupon bowed beneath the growing gusts, its cascading branches sweeping overhead as she rounded the corner. The forecasts hadn’t been exaggerating.
Relieved that Flash was adjusting to the shock of having a role model cast down from her pedestal, Athena focused her attention on the upcoming interview with Justin Booker.
Maybe he was a Robin Hood of sorts, reallocating company profits to benefit his workers.
But did he also kill the inspector and sabotage the office to make it appear like an accident?
He could have planted the bomb ahead of time and moved his employees away from danger.
Yet there was a flaw in this theory. The lab said the bomb was activated by remote control, not on a timer.
He couldn’t just pull out a triggering device and flick the switch while conducting a staff meeting.
She hoped to catch him in a lie or pry some key information from him.
One thing was for sure—Booker was on the hook for bribing a city employee.
She carried her takeout food up the elevator and headed straight for her office. “What time is Mr. Booker due to arrive?” she asked.
Shoops said, “Two o’clock. I think he’s getting worried because he said he’s bringing his lawyer along.”
“He’s not as clueless as Whitmore believes,” Athena said.
“He probably knows we talked to the purchasing manager, the bookkeeper, and he might even be aware we brought Velasquez in. I’ll be in my office.
” She noticed Detective Bach’s absence and figured he was checking in with HPD to update them on the new findings.
Maybe they’d uncovered something useful.
Closing her office door, she sat at her desk, opened her bag, and took a deep breath. A moment’s peace and quiet was exactly what she needed to unwind. When the clock hands pointed to 1:30, she took the last swallow of her iced tea and headed back out into the bullpen.
“Anything new to report?”
“I’ve got something,” Paulson called. Athena almost smiled. She knew she could count on the battle-scarred veteran.
Crossing to his station, she said, “Tell me.” Athena took the chair nearest his to save him from constantly needing to look up.
Fine wrinkles radiated from his bright eyes, his dark hair well mixed with gray, and his cheeks drooped more than they had when she first met him.
Still, he brought vigor and expertise to the job every day.
“You wanted me to finesse some data from the damaged office computers and to look at the charred ledger book.”
“Yes.” Hope and anticipation surged through her.
“They’re in really bad shape, so don’t get too excited,” he warned, “but a few interesting points. From what I can piece together, the plant’s purchases don’t line up with their sales.”
“Explain.”
He pulled up some numbers on his viewscreen.
“I salvaged a six-month period from January to July of last year. With a large company like this, that might not be representative, but what I can tell you is Booker approved purchases for significantly more raw materials than their recorded sales should have required. It’s like, he could have produced twenty or thirty percent more chemicals than are recorded. ”
He shrugged, swinging his wheelchair to face her directly.
“It could be he ran into a bulk sale and stocked up. I can’t say if maybe the second half of the year the sales made up for this.
I’m sure the plant wants to keep extra ingredients on hand, but I thought I’d bring it to your attention since you’ll be talking to him soon. ”
“Yes, this is interesting indeed, Agent Paulson.” Athena’s most recent theory dreamed up over lunch was that Whitmore had deposited half a million dollars into Booker’s shell company as hush money or a payoff for something like, oh, say, killing Inspector Nolan and sabotaging the plant.
She didn’t know Justin Booker, but, from what she’d seen and others’ testimony, he was a good guy.
It would have taken an enormous pile of money to convince him to compromise his principles.
They say anyone can be bought or coerced into committing a criminal act if the payoff or stakes are high enough.
She didn’t want to believe that. Powerful people had unsuccessfully tried to strong-arm her in the past. And she couldn’t see Flash ever compromising her integrity.
But what if it wasn’t money? What if they threatened a loved one, held them hostage to force her hand?
Do this, or they die? Then it becomes a whole different ball game.
Don’t even think about it. She shook the irrelevant fear away.
“I can keep on this if you want, or pursue another line of inquiry,” he offered.
“See if you can get anything else out of the files this afternoon,” she said. “If Booker isn’t our guy, or he doesn’t know who is, we might have to look elsewhere tomorrow.”
“Sure thing.” Paulson turned back to his station.
Agents Ice and Hernandez pushed through the door, looking like kids who’d dropped their ice cream cones. “What?” Athena asked and walked to meet them.
“We finally caught up with Lucero,” Ice reported, “the guy from our ex-con arsonist’s list.”
“Only it wasn’t him,” Hernandez added in a deflated tone.
“We couldn’t find him because he was spending the weekend in the drunk tank.
Broke parole on an LSD bender. Galena Park cops picked him up around one Friday morning—no ID—out in front of Our Lady of Fatima directing traffic with an aspergillum and sprinkling the cars with holy water. "
“He finally came down enough to tell them who he was, and his parole officer hauled him into court Monday morning. Judge ordered him straight into inpatient rehab,” Ice concluded. “So, he’s not our guy.”
Athena resisted the urge to crack a smile, picturing the dancing ex-con performing a blessing of the cars in front of the church.
“Good follow-through on the suspect,” she said with a perfectly straight face.
She glanced at the door when AUSA Harmon entered.
The rest of her team continued to work on their desk phones or computers.
“Mr. Harmon,” she addressed, surprised to see him back.
“ASAC Bouvier,” he reciprocated, inclining his head.
“I’m authorized to offer Mr. Booker a deal, though not quite as sweet, for his cooperation in the case.
The U.S. Attorney’s Office is fully committed to bringing whoever murdered EPA Inspector Nolan to justice.
We simply cannot allow the lethal elimination of federal environmental overseers to go unchecked. ”
“That works out well, since Mr. Booker informed my office he’s bringing his attorney with him,” Athena said.
“It’s getting downright blustery,” announced Bach as he strode in, a small pastry box in his hand. He set it on Shoop’s desk without fanfare and joined Athena and Harmon.
Athena watched pink flood Karen’s cheeks as she stopped working to open the box. She beamed at the contents. “Baklava,” she murmured in awe.
Bach threw a bright look over his shoulder. “From Abdallah’s,” he said, and returned his attention to Athena. “So, how do you want to handle this?”
“First, do you have anything as delicious as baklava from Abdallah’s for me?” She raised a curious brow.
Bach blushed and crammed his hands into his pockets. “I thought you liked BBQ.”
Hardening her features, Athena said, “I mean about the case.” Then, leaning in, she whispered, “And if you ever refer to Lieutenant Cash as BBQ again, I’ll ensure you never enjoy another dessert.”
He cringed. “Sorry.” Straightening, he spoke to both her and the U.S.
attorney. “My office has investigated several individuals who received parking tickets in the area prior to Friday morning’s explosion.
Since no unauthorized vehicles entered the front gate, I thought the bomber might have arrived on foot.
One popped. Tyrell Jensen, a private security agent, employed by—you’ll like this part.
” Bach winked, and Athena felt as light as a feather.
“Charles Whitmore.”
“You got it!”
“OK, tell your officers, ‘Great work.’ Now, Booker.”
Mr. Smith met them in the hallway. “I’d like to observe this one too.”
“Very well,” Athena said. “I suspect it might take a while.” Accompanied by Detective Bach and AUSA Harmon, she entered the interview room.
It did take a while, and then some. The first half hour was filled with introductions and formalities. Every time a question was asked, Booker wanted to confer with his lawyer. Two hours later they hadn’t learned anything new. Athena was done with this.
“Mr. Booker, you are under arrest for embezzlement, tax evasion, violation of safety laws, and bribing a city official. Since your attorney has been present this whole time, I’ll let him advise you of your rights.”
“What?” The sharp-looking young lawyer balked, eyes flying wide.
“You are wasting the Assistant U.S. Attorney’s time,” Bach replied.
“He came here to offer your client a deal, and neither of you has given him a damn thing. We have Allied Logistics’ bank records.
The money in that account had to come from somewhere, and you didn’t pay income taxes on it.
We have Assistant Chief Velasquez’s testimony. ”
“He doesn’t care about his employees,” Athena commented to Bach, as if Booker wasn’t in the room. “If he did, he’d use the money to correct the safety hazards instead of making payoffs.”
“Yes, Mr. Booker,” Harmon said. “Where did the half-million come from? Maybe CEO Whitmore found your number, the one required for you to do a little job for him?”
Rage wrestled with confusion on Justin Booker’s face. “I do care about my people,” he shouted. “And what does that rat bastard Whitmore have to do with anything?”
“Justin, calm down and be quiet,” his lawyer said, laying a hand on his arm. “What do you need to keep my client out of jail?”