"You know more about insanity, that’s for sure."
She advanced farther into the room. The smoke was thicker here. She was moving through billows of grayish haze, lost inside a darkening cloud.
"Wrong again," he said. "I’m the sanest person you’ll ever meet. I’ve always known exactly what I wanted and how to get it."
"Is that why you joined the bureau? To get an insider’s perspective on law enforcement, learn what you were up against?"
"You have such a quick, bright mind, Tess. I admire that in a victim. Originally I’d planned a career in the sciences. That’s where the name Mobius came from, by the way. The Mobius strip, an endless loop, coiling back on itself-the perfect symbol of my life."
"You’re a poet, Gerry."
"Every killer is a poet, because every murder is a work of art. Another aphorism of mine. Anyway, I changed my plans and decided to follow in the footsteps of my adoptive father. You know, I’m sure, that dear old Dad was one of J. Edgar’s top G-men."
"Did you hate him?"
"Hoover? Never met the man."
"Your father, I mean. Did you hate your father?"
"I hate everyone," he answered without emotion.
"But him, especially? Because he was in law enforcement? And law enforcement killed your mother, nearly killed you?"
"Once again I stand in awe of your perspicacity."
She moved between the two rows of workstations, not far from the video wall. The exit wasn’t far away, but she knew she couldn’t reach it without encountering Mobius first.
"So you established yourself in the bureau, and then when you started killing in Denver, you could supervise the investigation. You had everything you wanted. And then you stopped. You were inactive for two years."
"Learned I was going to be transferred out of Denver. Needed to put my alter ego on ice. I couldn’t have Mobius following me around-it might look suspicious."
"Must’ve been hell for you, holding yourself back like that."
"I have remarkable self-discipline. Besides, I was biding my time, waiting to move on to bigger things. When the Amanda Pierce case crossed my desk, I knew I’d found it. I reactivated Mobius for the occasion."
Spears of light from the video wall stabbed at her through the fog. Bits of torn paper floated around her like confetti, glittering in a spectrum of colors.
"You could’ve used a new MO," she said.
"I wanted to be Mobius."
"Why?"
"For you, Tess. To bring you to LA. You were an item of unfinished business for me."
Another twist of her stomach. "You killed Angie Callahan just to bring me here?"
"As I’ve been telling you, it was all part of the script."
Angie Callahan, a woman she’d never known, had died for her. A sacrifice on an altar. Mobius’s gift in her name.
Paul had died in her place. Now Angie Callahan had died to summon her to LA. She wasn’t responsible for either death-or was she?
The fog was deeper now, or maybe it was the fog in her mind…
Her eyes blurred, and she nearly stumbled over a broken swivel chair in her path.
"How about Hayde?" she asked, struggling for composure. "Was he in your script, too?"
"Actually, no. I did a little improvising where he was concerned. He was so ideal for my purposes, I just couldn’t resist. When Larkin told me that Hayde had worked on the Metro system, I knew he was the perfect fall guy. I could release part of the VX in the subway, and Hayde would be the obvious suspect. He would divert any possible suspicion from me."
She almost moved on, then took a closer look at the upturned chair. It must have been where Andrus had draped his jacket, dead center in the blast. The bomb had blown it apart-casters scattered, seat cushion shredded. The backrest had been separated from the chair, leaving only a vertical bar attached to the seat.
The bar was held in place by a single loosened bolt. Wielded as a blunt instrument, it would make a serviceable weapon at medium range. She had already taken one precaution, but she needed every possible edge.
Closing her gloves around the metal bar, she pried at it. Her face mask began steaming up again.
"When did you kill Hayde?" she asked. "Before or after you picked up Pierce?"
"Before. I lingered outside the Federal Building, followed Hayde and Michaelson when the interrogation was concluded. Michaelson drove Hayde back to his car on Melrose, and then Hayde drove home. I killed him as he was unlocking the gate to his condominium building. It was late. There was no one around. I have to say I took no pleasure in the act. It was just business."
"I doubt Hayde thought of it that way."
"Tess, haven’t you learned not to trouble yourself about what other people think? At any rate, I put his body in my car, and later I transferred it to the chem lab."
"To substitute for Scott Maple. What did you do with him?"
"So many questions. It’s your inquisitive nature that makes you such a world-class investigator. Really, you surprised me at Dodge’s house. I didn’t think you would survive the trap I’d laid in your motel room-and I certainly didn’t expect you to anticipate my next move."
"Or see you driving Hayde’s car," she said. She had almost succeeded in wrenching the metal bar free. "Which you parked at the Metro station, so the police would find it there."
"And therefore link the attack to Hayde that much more quickly. I assumed no one would look for the car until after the subway had been gassed. You out-thought me, I’m afraid. As a result, the train was evacuated before the bomb could explode. I ought to be peeved at you for that. You didn’t let me have any fun tonight."
"You got off at the Universal City station, didn’t you?"
"Of course. There was no trouble. The cops who boarded the train were looking for Hayde, not me. Still, I didn’t dare exit the station. As the AD of the bureau’s LA office, I’m known to quite a few of our boys in blue. One of them might have recognized me. So I slipped into the shadows until you and the other law enforcement types arrived."
"You never hid in the tunnels."
"No, but I did plant one of Hayde’s cuff links when we were searching. Michaelson found it on the way back. Another diversion-I wanted Tennant and his men sidelined."
With a final twist of her shoulders, she separated the bar from its mounting. The effort exhausted her. She straightened up, unsteady in the clumsy suit.
"You know, Gerry, just because your life started out badly, you didn’t have to hurt other people."
"Thank you for that moral from today’s After School Special. But you’re mistaken. I had to do exactly what I did. Not that I’m complaining. How many people in this soft and aimless society of ours can honestly say they have a purpose in life?"
"Well, you failed in your purpose. Your big scheme is a bust. You’ve got nothing to show for it."
"On the contrary, I have one thing to show for it." She heard the volume of his breathing ratcheted up another notch as his voice rose in a snarl. "I have you."
She caught a flash of orange on the edge of her field of vision, and she turned-slowly, so slowly in the bulky suit-turned as Mobius lunged at her from his hiding place behind an upended workstation.
She swung the bar at him, hoping to split open his face mask, but the swing missed, and then he was on her, his inflated suit colliding with hers, the two of them staggering backward in drunken slow motion.
She raised the bar again. He ripped it out of her hands and jabbed it at her chest. The blow felt distant, transmitted to her body by vibrations as the suit shivered all over like the skin of a pudding.
He drew back for another blow. She pushed over a desk between them, blocking his advance.
"I did make one rather serious error," he said. "Paul Voorhees. I was going after you, of course. I knew you lived in that house. But you and Paul were so discreet about your office romance, I had no idea he was spending his nights there. When I saw a bureau car in the driveway, I assumed it was yours. As the kids say today-my bad."