Chapter 27
Despite the FBI building running on backup generators, the interview room remained uncomfortably chilly when Athena and Bach returned from a short break.
The room wasn’t the only thing meant to intimidate.
Its sterile atmosphere, metal table and chairs, and harsh fluorescent lights were matched by the billionaire and his elite attorney from Prescott, Sterling & Caldwell LLP.
CEO Charles Whitmore wore a gunmetal gray three-piece suit, a Stetson felt hat, and a granite-carved expression.
His attorney, a White man in his fifties, regarded them with practiced superiority as he adjusted his diamond-studded silver cufflinks.
Unimpressed, Athena strode to her chair and sat as though neither man had made the slightest impression.
“Assistant Special Agent in Charge Athena Bouvier and HPD Detective Elyan Bach, beginning interview with CEO Charles Whitmore and his attorney. This interview is being recorded.”
“I’m Richard Sterling, representing Mr. Whitmore for Prescott, Sterling & Caldwell,” the man stated in a firm baritone voice steeped in Texas.
“We do not appreciate the implication that our client hasn’t been cooperating in your investigation and assure you that apprehending and prosecuting those responsible for the damage to his Houston plant are Mr. Whitmore’s top priority. ”
“And punishing those who killed EPA inspector Jeff Nolan and three Gulf Allied Chemicals employees,” Athena added with cool precision. “David Cole, Patricia Erhart, and Pedro Garza. I’m sure you meant to include them.”
“Of course, we want whoever caused their deaths apprehended as well,” Whitmore grumbled.
“I talked to you people, invited you into my home. Isn’t that cooperation?
Then this police detective says he’s going to bury me under bad press if I don’t come down here, in this weather, to answer more of your questions.
It’s police brutality, I say. Blackmail, pure and simple. ”
Sterling turned to him with a gentle chide. “Don’t let them get you riled, Charles. I’ll do the talking.”
“We have much more information now than when we last spoke,” Bach said. “And giving you a heads-up before a press conference is hardly blackmail. Now, if we can lay that aside and get to the crux of the matter.”
“Yes, let’s.” Whitmore removed his hat and set it on the table. “I hope you’ve made progress. Arrested anyone yet?”
“We have,” Athena answered, “but not the one responsible for the fatal bomb attack and Mr. Nolan’s murder.”
“We all understand the law, Special Agent,” Sterling said in a patronizing tone. “If anyone dies during the commission of a felony, that person is legally liable for their death.”
“No, Mr. Sterling,” Bach responded. “We’re talking about first-degree homicide. While the employees died because of the fire, Mr. Nolan was struck on the head and killed an hour beforehand. The murder weapon was not one of opportunity, but something the perpetrator brought with him to the office.”
“What was it?” Sterling asked. His voice remained detached, but Athena caught the surprise flash across his eyes for an instant.
“We are not at liberty to divulge that information at this sensitive stage of the investigation,” said Bach.
“But you said you arrested someone,” Whitmore said with more confusion than irritation.
“We did.” Athena waited for the two men to shift their attention to her before continuing.
“And we learned many important details from them, which led me to one of two conclusions: either Mr. Whitmore is involved in selling Gulf Allied Chemicals products to dubious and foreign buyers under the table, or he is blindly oblivious to a major criminal operation being carried out right under his nose. Now, which is it, CEO? Are you a crook or a dupe?”
Whitmore’s jaw dropped, his face reddening. Sterling answered before he could reply with a tirade.
“Mr. Whitmore is neither of those,” the lawyer pronounced, “and these sophomoric tactics will get you nowhere. What crime has been committed, and what evidence do you have linking my client to it?”
Bach answered, his voice ringing with authority.
“Mr. Whitmore’s Houston plant manager, Justin Booker, was arrested on charges of embezzlement, selling unauthorized products without reporting the sales, and bribing a city official.
He has made a deal with the U.S. Attorney’s Office and is fully cooperating.
All evidence confirms his claim that he was not involved in the bombing, fire, or murder.
However, he testified that he was approached and led by a secret partner known only to him as Nexus.
We believe that the unknown suspect could be our killer. ”
“Booker? Stealing from me?” Whitmore’s temper flared as his fist slammed the table.
“Why, that low-down weasel!” He pointed at Bach.
“He was always after me for more money to upgrade the plant, more money and benefits for the workers, always acting so concerned. And all the while he was stealing profits from my pocket! Son of a …” he muttered under his breath and shook his head.
Athena gritted her teeth. She would not lose her cool the way Whitmore had, but she would get her licks in. “Dupe it is,” she pronounced sharply.
“That’s uncalled for.” Sterling gave her a hard look, a deep scowl stamped on his aging face.
“It might never have happened if you’d answered those requests,” she continued, unfazed.
“Mr. Booker used much of his ill-gotten gain to buy badly needed office equipment, give the workers Christmas bonuses, and pay an HFD fire inspector to sign off on safety checks your plant would likely have failed.”
“Oh!” Whitmore threw up his hands. “So, he’s a hero, and I’m a villain, is that it? I deserved to have money stolen from me? It’s still against the law, and I demand my profits be returned.”
“Why wasn’t my law office informed of this right away?” Sterling asked, looking equally offended.
Athena blinked at him. “Oh. Do you also represent Mr. Booker? He had his own attorney with him at our interview.”
“No, but it concerns my client.” Sterling sniffed, jutting his chin up.
“Mr. Whitmore,” Bach said, drawing focus. “Do you know of or have you heard anything regarding Nexus?”
Relaxing his tension, Whitmore worked his jaw, his gaze fixed as if thinking. “Doesn’t it have something to do with Canadian border crossings? There’s a special lane dubbed ‘Nexus.’”
“My client knows nothing about this thief or broker or whoever it is who goes by the moniker Nexus,” Sterling interjected.
“He is unaware these crimes were taking place, and he is not a dupe. Charles is a CEO who oversees several production facilities in various states, is responsible to a board of directors and investors, and manages billions of dollars in annual revenue. He can’t be blamed if a manager he trusted betrayed that trust.”
Whitmore sat back and returned the hat to his head. “Richard, you might as well be talking to a brick wall,” he said with a smirk. “These jarheads understand nothing about running a successful company.” Turning an amused gaze to Athena, he asked, “How much did they get away with?”
“So far, we’ve located almost half a million dollars,” she answered, unsure about the change in his manner.
“Ha!” He pushed up from his chair. “Peanuts. Not worth noticing. For a minute, I thought I might be out real money. Yeah, that Houston plant is more trouble than it’s worth. Richard, see if you can find me a buyer. Lake Charles has approached me about building a new facility there.”
Sterling rose with him, collecting his briefcase. “Yes, sir. We’ll look into it.”
“Mr. Bach, here’s a quote for your press conference,” Whitmore said.
“I support the Houston Police Department and the FBI 100% in their investigation into what occurred at Gulf Allied Chemicals Houston plant and am grieved by the lives lost. To show my support, I’m offering a $500,000 reward for information leading to the arrest and conviction of those responsible.
And I’ll back that up. Kerrington, offering a reward—ha! I just doubled it.”
Whitmore started around the table toward the door. “Richard, how’s about we get some lunch on our way home. Reckon anything’ll be open?”
“Are you sure you can’t recall hearing a word about Nexus?” Athena asked as he passed her, still in her seat.
“Ma’am, I know you’re just doing your job, but don’t you think, if I had any clue about the vile snake who was stealing from me, that I’d have done something about it? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I know my rights.”
Bach stood and held the door for them. “Sir, if you do run across something—”
“Yes, young man,” he waved dismissively. “You’ll be the first to know.”
Sterling handed Bach a card. “Don’t bother Mr. Whitmore again. If you have further questions, put them in writing and send them to me.”
The door closed behind them, and Bach returned to sit with Athena, who hadn’t left her chair. “What do you think?”
“I think Charles Whitmore is a lot of things,” she confessed, “but not the perpetrator we’re after.
He’s right. Half a million is peanuts to him, and he didn’t invest in bringing his plant up to code because he was considering selling it and building a newer facility elsewhere.
He seemed genuinely surprised by the words ‘murder’ and ‘Nexus.’ As much as I hate to admit it, he’s not our guy.
Are you going to hold a press conference? Do I have to come?”
Elyan raked a hand through his hair. She saw him reach for his breast pocket, like he was going for a cigarette, before his hand dropped. “I’ll record a brief statement updating the progress in the case and give it to the media. Then it’s back to the grindstone.”
“Indeed.” She stood, and Bach walked her back to the office. The team spent all afternoon digging, testing leads, and falling short. Athena just wanted Flash. At least she’d get her loft.