“Econo’s and Quantum’s stocks took a deep dive after the explosion.”
“You had to figure it,” Baxter said. “I checked a few minutes ago. Still falling. A lot of people losing their shirts today, and the companies are going to be hurting. Somebody had it in for one or both.”
“Roarke has a different take. Do this to cause the dive, maybe work the . . . margin or whatever, but buy when it tanks.”
“That’s a hell of a risk, boss. It could take months for those companies to recover.”
“Roarke’s convinced the merger’s going through, and the stocks will start going up by end of business today or by tomorrow. Look for statements from the company brass. Look for announcements of the merger going through, and for the numbers to climb up. That’s his take.”
“Wait, so he thinks all of this is so these assholes can buy low, sell high?” On a half laugh, Baxter ran a hand over his well-styled hair. “That’s fucking brilliant. Cold as it gets, but brilliant.”
“We need to look at this angle. Those absent for work? We want to dig into their financials. Same with employees close to Rogan or Pearson or Karson. He also said talk of the merger’s been going on for about a year.”
“They kept it pretty down low then. But that gives the unsubs a lot of time to come up with the system, and how to play it.”
“At least one of them’s military. He’s going to have experience with explosives. Factor it in. I’m with Mira.”
6
Eve found the admin’s desk unoccupied, Mira’s door open, and inwardly cheered her luck. Mira stood at her AutoChef, her mink-colored hair swept back in sassy curls. She wore one of her slim, stylish suits, this one the color of ripe peaches paired with needle-thin heels that hit somewhere between green and blue. Mira turned, soft blue eyes in a pretty face, smiled.
“You’re prompt. Tea?”
“No, thanks. I appreciate you fitting me in.”
“I had a busy morning, but the afternoon’s easier. Have a seat.”
The department’s top profiler and shrink sat in one of the two blue scoop chairs, crossed her excellent legs and balanced a delicate cup and saucer. “My morning was jammed,” she continued as Eve sat. “I did hear bits and pieces about the bombing at Quantum, but only that an employee, an executive, entered a meeting with EconoLift execs wearing a suicide vest. Twelve dead, more injured.”
“I’m going to send you full reports, but if I can highlight it for you, it’ll save time.”
“Of course.”
“In the early hours of Saturday morning, two men circumvented the security on Paul Rogan’s home,” Eve began.
She wound through it quickly while Mira nodded and sipped her tea. She listened, without interruption, until Eve finished.
“So Rogan was terrorized, tortured, and coerced by two unidentified men who held his family hostage. You’ve found no connection between Rogan and the men, no motive for Rogan to have been a willing part of the bombing. And from what you’ve learned, the men likely targeted him months before—when news of the potential merger leaked.”
“Exactly.”
“Everything you’ve learned of Rogan, from the contents of his desk, his home, his memo books, from statements from his family, his coworkers, his staff, describes not only a loyal, hardworking employee, a fair-and-balanced team leader, but more key, a devoted family man, a man who loved his wife and daughter. That makes him an excellent target, but it’s hardly a guarantee he’d set off the bomb, taking his own life and the lives of others.”
“They weighed the odds, and gambled.”
“Yes. Well, what did they have to lose? If he refused, they lost nothing but time and effort. They simply walk away.” She paused, sipped. “One did most of the talking, most of the violence on the wife, while the other kept watch on the girl, but didn’t really harm her. Terrorized her emotionally, but not physically.”
“She said he loosened her wrist restraints a little, but the other yanked her hair to make her yell or cry.”
“So the parents, separated from her, would hear and not know what was happening to their daughter. They could’ve done much worse, even to the wife—no sexual assault, but the threat of rape, again to show Rogan what could happen if he didn’t do what they asked.”
“His wife said the one who dealt with them kept asking Rogan what he would do to save his wife and child. What would he do to protect his wife and child. Not their names, but always your wife and child.”
“A constant reminder they were his responsibility. It was his choice. It’s psychological torture, as was separating him from his wife, locking her in a basement room, showing him how helpless and hurt she was. They knew what they were doing, or certainly the one—the more dominant—knew. He may very well have interrogated and/or coerced prisoners before. Your hunch that he’s military seems sound.”
“I’ve brought Roarke in—expert on business, mergers, and all that. He has a theory. The stock of both companies took a dive—his word—after the bombing. Ah, he says the stock market’s emotional.”
“Really? I never thought of that.”