Left To Die

The Interpol agent glanced from Adele to John’s slouched form and pursed her lips again. Her silver curls were pressed tight to her head by the stems of thick glasses. She was a larger woman, but with a pleasant face. Her intelligent eyes twinkled behind her glasses, and she said, in a careful, precise tone, “I think it is best if you speak with the executive. He’ll fill you in on the details.”

Agent Renee harrumphed and slid lower in his seat, like a child outside the principal’s office.

Adele, though, took another few steps up the hall, her expression pleading. “We can’t wait,” she said. “Each moment that passes is another moment where he could escape. He could try to change his identity. He could leave Germany. We may not be able to find him if we don’t hurry.” Adele realized her voice was rising, and so she took a quick breath, steadying herself before finishing, in an even tone, “For now, he doesn’t know we found the source of his paralytic.”

The Interpol correspondent raised a calming hand. “I’m not in charge of DGSI employees. Like I said, it’s best to speak with the executive. He should be off the phone soon. Good day.”

The correspondent nodded and then turned, hurrying back up the hall and turning a corner out of sight.

Adele stared after the woman, shaking her head side to side. “Well, that was cryptic as hell. Do you think Germany’s going to play nice?” She glanced over at John.

Agent Renee had his eyes closed, his head tilted back against the wall, and he looked like he was trying to sleep.

She growled and resisted the urge to kick him again. Instead, Adele stomped back to her seat and flopped into the chair. It also creaked as John’s had under the sudden jolt of her weight. Vaguely, Adele wondered if perhaps she should stop eating so much cereal. She reached out and patted her stomach, but determined if she was still in healthy enough shape to chase men down stairwells and tackle them, then she was allowed the occasional bowl of Chocapic.

“Could you stop that? It’s annoying.”

John was glaring at her fingers with one open eye and the other one still shut. Adele glanced down and realize she’d been tapping a rhythm against the wooden chair.

She flung up her hands in mock surrender and glared at the opaque glass of Foucault’s door once more, and then surged back to her feet. “If he asks, I’m in Robert’s office.”

John shrugged and closed his eyes again.

Adele hurried down a couple of flights of stairs and then moved along a stretch of hall, brushing past only one other man moving quickly in the opposite direction.

Adele had left Robert’s mansion in a rush the previous day. His offers of lodging were still fresh in her mind. It would be nicer than a hotel to stay in the old room she’d occupied for a year back when she first joined the DGSI. But then again, she wasn’t going to be in France for long.

She paused at the thought. She thought of Agent Renee, of her trip to the park, of the smell of the river and Robert’s kindness. It wasn’t as bad as she remembered. The pain of losing her mother had faded somewhat. The double pain of failing to capture her mother’s killer was still fresh in a way, but it too had lessened. Adele needed time to think, and space to do it. John was distracting. It was like working with a monkey. A very dangerous, deadly monkey in the right circumstances.

The Commandos Marine were renowned for their operations throughout Europe and the Middle East. But from an investigative perspective, John seemed to have the subtlety of a jackhammer.

Adele reached Robert’s door and tapped on the glass. There was a pause, then a voice called, “Come in!”

Adele pushed into her old mentor’s office. It was as sparse as when she’d first visited, but he was no longer in a bathrobe and slippers, and wore his neat, pressed suit where he sat behind his large desk, staring with a frown at a computer screen.

It had only been eight hours since she’d left him in his house, but he looked well rested, carrying no bags under his eyes.

For her part, Adele had only managed two hours of sleep in the parking lot, waiting for the expedited tox report to come in. She could feel exhaustion taking its toll and envied Robert’s ability to get by on such little rest.

He looked cheerfully up at her and flashed a smile. He pushed back from the desk, folding his hands in his lap and adjusting his posture so he sat straight-backed in his custom leather chair. “I hear there’s good news.”

She nodded and leaned against the doorjamb, glancing out the window of her mentor’s office toward the city beyond. “I think we have a shot of getting him this time. We just have to hurry.”

Robert nodded and scratched at his wrist. “I…” he began, but trailed off.

A moment of silence fell over the room as both of them seemed lost in their thoughts. Robert always considered his words carefully before he spoke. This time, it took nearly another minute before he opened his mouth. “It wasn’t fair of me to offer you your old room back,” he said, softly. “I apologize.”