Left To Die

“You’re the BKA correspondent?” said John, eyeing the young attaché.

The German shifted uncomfortably and adjusted in her seat. “Yes,” she answered in nearly flawless English. “My name is Beatrice Marshall. You may call me Agent Marshall.” She inhaled and then, in a rehearsed fashion, declared, “The BKA is happy to work with the FBI and the DGSI, but where you go, I’m required to go—understand?”

Adele smiled at the young woman, remembering her first year working for the DGSI fresh out of college.

Agent Marshall tapped politely on the window divider between them and the driver. “Please take us to Lion Pharmaceutical now,” she said.

“That’s it?” Adele asked, frowning. “We don’t need to shake hands with some supervisors or make nice with your boss?”

Agent Marshall shook her head primly, crossing her legs and then adjusting her position to face Adele with an uncomfortable sort of pivot. John was watching her, a small smile curling his lips, like a lion who’d spotted a gazelle.

Adele glanced at her partner and rolled her eyes. “We’re heading directly to the pharmaceutical company?”

“Is that a problem?” replied the young agent.

“No, of course not.”

Inwardly, Adele had hoped she would’ve had time to at least get some sleep. She’d managed to snatch about a half hour of rest on the plane, but scrunched up in business class next to John, with worries and fears cycling through her mind, had made true slumber an impossibility.

Adele settled into the back of the car, listening to the chugging engine and the spinning wheels as the limousine left the airport.

Germany. It wasn’t as jarring to travel from France to Germany. It was only a couple hour flight at best. The transition from US to Europe was a far different kettle of fish as most of the travel was over an open ocean. Now, though, Adele felt a strange sense of nostalgia descending on her. Germany had been her home until she’d turned twelve. Her father still lived here… perhaps a visit was in order.

She thought of Robert back in France, of his offer for her to reclaim her old room. It would be nice, at least, to swim in the indoor pool after her run. Her trip to France was taking unexpected turns.

Perhaps none more unexpected than the latest twist. It seemed like the start to a joke. A BKA officer, a DGSI operative, and an FBI agent all walk into a bar…

Then what? Whatever the punchline was, Adele desperately hoped it involved a red-haired killer.

The limousine carried them through the city, slicing through traffic. They exited the city on a gray highway not long after, pulling out into the suburbs, then eventually a series of fields on the outskirts of Hamburg.

Lion Pharmaceutical wasn’t too far from the airport, but it would still take some time.

John was going over the manila folder as they traveled, and every so often, making eyes toward their young German babysitter. Though the young agent mostly fixed her gaze ahead, facing the backseat from the middle, every so often, she would look up to meet Renee’s gaze and smile. Her legs were still crossed at least.

Adele suppressed the urge to vomit and closed her eyes, trying to focusing on her breathing and steady her nerves. Tired as she was, she couldn’t allow it to slow her thoughts. Her target was in her crosshairs… now it was only a matter of time.

Finally, after nearly an hour, the limousine pulled into a side road that led toward a large metal fence topped with barbed wire.

Adele perked up, peering through the tinted windows toward a large structure in the distance. A giant building of glass and curved windows centered the stretch of fence. The building looked like an aquarium from this distance, except for the rows of barbed wire between the road and the compound.

A couple of men armed with rifles stood outside the gate, holding up halting hands toward the car.

Marshall nodded politely through the window and leaned out, extending identification. “I’m here with the BKA,” she rattled off in German. “My supervisor should’ve called ahead.”

John wrinkled his nose at the foreign language, but Adele listened intently.

Marshall continued, “These are agents Renee and Sharp from the DGSI and FBI. They’re under my supervision; there shouldn’t be any problems.”

A few exchanges later, following a phone call from the gate, the guards stepped aside, and the gate split, rolling on a metal track and allowing them entrance into the parking lot.

The driver guided the limousine further into the compound and pulled up outside the curb closest to the front doors.

Lion Pharmaceutical was displayed in large golden block letters above the giant glass doors. On each of the front windows, a crisp design of a white lion head stenciled the glass.

John exited the vehicle first, pushing open the back door and swinging his long legs out onto the curb. He extended a hand, gallantly offering his arm toward Agent Marshall. Adele rolled her eyes again as the young German operative accepted the French man’s arm and climbed out from the back of the limousine. Adele followed.

She glanced back at the long, black vehicle with the tinted windows. She’d never been one for the German sense of humor. This, though a small one, was a jab in their direction. Sending a young agent in a limousine was the German government’s way of putting them in their place.

Adele adjusted her sleeves and stared up at the enormous blue glass building. Somewhere in that structure, somebody knew who the killer was. She was sure of it.

The chemical compound had been a perfect match for a drug created in this very building.

She turned to John. “You have the files?”

Renee continued chatting with Marshall but wiggled the band of a briefcase strapped over his shoulder in Adele’s direction.

The limousine pulled away from the curb in search of a proper parking spot while Adele and her two teammates made their way toward the large glass doors with angled metal handles.

Conspicuous red letters were scrawled across the door: “WARNING: Authorized Personnel Only.”

Elsewhere, stenciled beneath the lion logos, other warnings ornamented the glass, as well as a yellow triangle with black marks over the word: “TOXIC.”

Before they reached the doors, Adele spotted someone through the glass and both doors were pushed open. A man and a woman stood on either side, flanking the entry, both wearing business suits and gesturing politely at the agents to enter.

“Director Mueller is upstairs,” said the man on the right side of the door.

He had no distinguishing features whatsoever. He had an average face, was of average height, and had light brown hair. His complexion was hard to place ethnically, and his voice wasn’t deep nor was it high-pitched. As if to complete the image, he was also wearing a charcoal gray suit.

The woman on the other side of the door didn’t say anything, but kept the door ajar, still smiling politely at them with the sort of feigned excitement a car salesman might have envied.

“Who are you?” John growled in English.

“Personal assistants to Director Mueller,” said the young man, with a light, airy accent, flashing a Colgate smile. “Please, if you will… we’ve been expecting you.”

Adele followed the two young assistants into the lobby of a large white-walled atrium. Strange decor, like the type found in hotels or banks, had been arranged tastefully throughout the space, including a small koi pond beneath a fountain in the center of the room. The sound of trickling water created a peaceful atmosphere in the otherwise intimidating building.

“Director Mueller is quite busy today,” the male assistant began, turning to face the agents with a smile, his hands on his hips. “If you wouldn’t mind waiting—er, excuse me, miss!”

Two sets of stairs ascended the back of the room, and an elevator door presented itself at the base of the stairs.

Adele marched toward the stairs without invitation, ignoring the calls of the assistant. She ignored the elevator, while John hesitated, his hand hovering, about to push the button. She started stomping up the stairs, heard John grumble behind her, but, reluctantly, she could hear him follow after her, leaving the elevator.

The hurried footsteps of the assistants followed also, and both of them were now calling after Adele. “Excuse me, please! Wait! Director Mueller was very express in his desire not to be disturbed!”

But Adele ignored them and continued her trek up the stairs.

While it was true that Interpol had gone to great lengths to connect her with the BKA and designate temporary jurisdiction in this country, that didn’t mean she had to play nice. Someone in this laboratory had killed at least six people, and had attempted to kill a seventh. Most likely there were bodies she didn’t know about.