Mercer answered that the motorcycle was damaged. Then he described it as low-value salvage and instructed the tow driver to mark it accordingly.
Laura leaned back from the screen. "He thought he was creating the evidence."
The agent looked at her.
Laura continued, "He was timestamping it."
Inside the warehouse, Mercer had stopped arguing with Boone. He stood several feet from the Harley and looked at Maya through the open office doorway. Something about her expression bothered him: she was listening, but she was no longer asking questions.
He turned toward the motorcycle. Boone noticed. "What now?"
Mercer walked toward the Harley. "You said Hensley was compromised because no one knew the address."
"Yes."
"And then we moved the bike here."
"Yes."
Mercer looked at the damaged engine case. Maya watched him. He moved closer to the motorcycle and placed one hand near the saddlebag mount.
"You knew we would move it."
Maya said nothing. Mercer looked back at her.
"You knew it at Hensley, too."
Boone stepped forward. "Wade, leave the bike alone."
Mercer ignored him. He checked beneath the seat again, then along the frame. Nothing. He stood slowly.
"When we left the roadside, you checked the time." Maya remained silent. "You watched every turn on the way to Hensley." No answer. "You never asked where we were taking the motorcycle."
Boone said, "You are wasting time."
Mercer turned toward him. "No. I am finally asking the right question." He looked at Maya again. "What is on the Harley?"
She did not answer.
Mercer walked closer to the office. "Is it a tracker?"
Maya's expression did not change. Boone looked toward the motorcycle. Mercer saw it.
"You never thought of that."
Boone said, "Federal agents do not plant devices on their own property without reason."
Mercer laughed once. "She had a federal corruption file with our names in it! How much more reason do you need?"
For the first time, Boone looked uncertain. Mercer turned back to Maya.
"The bike was recording." She did not respond. "Wasn't it?"
Maya held his gaze. Mercer took another step.
"Since when?"
Maya answered calmly, "Before you touched the saddlebag."
Mercer stopped. Boone looked from her to the Harley.
Maya continued, "Before you struck the engine case. Before you called the identification damaged. Before you broke the headlight. Before you lowered the value."