Handerling’s face went ashen.
“What do they all have in common, Mr. Handerling? They were all applicants at Eden. All were disapproved, following their psychological evaluations. All for similar reasons. Low self-esteem. Products of broken homes. High passivity factors. In other words, women who could be easily victimized.”
Mauchly’s voice had grown so low, Lash strained to hear.
“These women all have something else in common. In the last six months, they’ve been approached by you. In some cases, it ended with lunch or drinks. In other cases it went well, well beyond that.”
Suddenly, Mauchly lifted the heavy pile of documents and slammed it back down on the table. The action was so unexpected Handerling jumped in his chair.
But when Mauchly spoke again, his voice was calm. “We have it all here. Records of phone calls, from home and the office; credit card receipts for restaurants, bars, motels; data intercepts of confidential Eden records touched from your terminal. And, by the way, we’ve already plugged the security weakness you used to access client data across security frontiers.” Mauchly shifted. “In light of this, would you care to revisit your response?”
Handerling swallowed painfully. Sweat had sprouted along his brow, and his hands clenched and unclenched involuntarily. “I want a lawyer,” he said.
“Your signature on this document waives the privilege of representation during internal examinations of your own malfeasance. The fact is, Mr. Handerling, you’ve compromised the integrity of this company. You’ve done that, and more. You’ve not only betrayed our trust and that of our clients, but you’ve done it in the lowest, most despicable fashion possible. To think you could search out, intentionally, the most pliable victims — pry through transcripts where they reveal their most private hopes and dreams, their deepest wants in a relationship — and then callously exploit those to slake your own craven lusts… it’s almost beyond comprehension.”
An electric silence filled the room.
Handerling licked dry lips. “I—” he began. He fell silent.
“Once our work is completed here, you’ll be remanded — with the indictable evidence — to the custody of the authorities.”
“The police?” Handerling said sharply.
Mauchly shook his head. “No, Mr. Handerling. Federal authorities.”
The look on Handerling’s face turned to disbelief.
“Eden has information-sharing agreements with certain branches of government. You know that. Some data involved is of a classified nature. By covertly manipulating our databanks, you have committed what could be considered a treasonable offense.”
“Treason?” Handerling said in a strangled voice.
“You would be prosecuted in a federal facility, sparing ourselves and our clients embarrassing publicity. And in case you weren’t aware, there is no parole in federal prison, Mr. Handerling.”
Handerling’s roaming eyes shifted back to Mauchly: a furtive, hunted look.
“Okay,” he said. “All right. It’s like you say. I did meet those women. But I didn’t hurt them.”
“What were you doing to Sarah Hunt when we approached, then?”
“I just wanted her to stop shouting. I wouldn’t hurt her. I haven’t done anything wrong!”
“Haven’t done anything wrong? Stalking women, misusing confidential and trade-secret information, making false representations — that isn’t wrong?”
“It didn’t start out that way!” Handerling’s gaze swept the room frantically, searching for a sympathetic eye. “Look, it began as an accident. I realized as scrub boss I could exploit this vulnerability I’d discovered, look beyond our compartment, piece together enough data fragments to get full client briefs. It was curiosity, just curiosity…”
It was as if a dam had burst. Handerling began spilling it alclass="underline" his accidental discovery of the loophole; his timid early probing; the methods he’d used to evade detection; his first meetings with the women. Everything. And Mauchly had handled it beautifully. With a series of baiting questions about lesser crimes, he’d gotten Handerling to bite. And now that the man was talking, it would be almost impossible for him to stop. Mauchly, having unbalanced his victim, would go in for the kill.
Just at that moment, in fact, Mauchly raised a commanding hand. Handerling stopped in mid rant, unfinished sentence hanging suspended in the air.
“This is all very interesting,” Mauchly said quietly. “And we’ll want to hear all about it in due course. But let’s move on to the real reason you’re here.”
Handerling passed a hand over his eyes. “The real reason?”
“Your more serious offenses.”
Handerling looked dazed. He said nothing.
“Would you care to tell us where you were on the morning of September 17?”
“September 17?”
“Or the late afternoon of September 24?”
“I don’t… I don’t remember.”
“Then let me remind you. On September 17, you were in Flagstaff, Arizona. On September 24, you were in Larchmont, New York. You have a hotel reservation tomorrow night in Burlingame, Massachusetts. Do you know what those three addresses have in common, Mr. Handerling?”
Handerling’s fingers gripped the edge of the table, knuckles dead white. “The supercouples.”
“Very good. They are each residences of one of our uniquely perfect couples. Or, in the first two instances, were.”
“Were?”
“Yes. Since both the Thorpes and the Wilners are now dead.”
“The Thorpes?” Handerling said, his voice little more than a croak. “The Wilners? Dead?”
“Come now, Mr. Handerling. This only wastes time. What were your intentions for the coming weekend?”
But Handerling did not answer. His eyes had rolled back, shockingly white in the bright light of the room. Lash wondered if he was going to faint.
“If you’d rather not say, then let me tell you what you were going to do. What you’ve done already, twice. You were going to kill the Connellys. But very carefully, like you’d done before. Make it look like double suicide.”
The room was quiet, the only noise Handerling’s labored breathing.
“You murdered the first two supercouples, in order,” Mauchly said. “Now you’ve been planning to stalk, and kill, a third.”
Still, Handerling said nothing.
“We’ll be doing a deep psych reval on you, of course. But we’ve already put together a theoretical profile. After all, your actions speak for themselves.” Mauchly consulted the papers before him. “I’m talking about your fear of rejection, your shrunken sense of self-worth. Armed with information you pilfered from our files, you knew just how to approach those women you selected and manipulated. Remarkable that, in some cases, you failed, even with such an overwhelming advantage.” Mauchly smiled mirthlessly. “But if these encounters eased your feelings of inadequacy around women, they did nothing to ease your anger. Anger that others could find the kind of happiness you never would. Those others who you’d always envied. Our supercouples were that embodiment for you. They became the lightning rod for your anger, which was actually self-loathing, twisted in such a way that—”
“No!” Handerling screamed: a thin, high keening sound.
“Come now, Mr. Handerling. Don’t excite yourself.”
“I didn’t kill them!” Tears were starting from his eyes. “Okay, so I went to Arizona. I have relatives in Sedona, I was going there for a wedding. Flagstaff was nearby. And Larchmont is only an hour from my house.”