Left To Die

On a lark, Adele asked, “Do any of those employees have red hair?”

Mueller frowned. “Employee information is private unless you have a judge’s order…” He trailed off, glancing past her toward the other agents in the room with a questioning look. “No? Well, in that case—”

Here, Agent Marshall stepped forward from her position in the doorway, clearing her throat. “Actually, sir, the order is being written. But right now, we’re under a joint task force. She’s telling you the truth.” Marshall lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Interpol is involved. But this doesn’t have to become some sort of international investigation into your company—we wouldn’t want what happened to Bedelwen Industries to happen here, now would we?” Marshall winced. “Bankruptcy, civil lawsuits… All because of a prolonged investigation…”

Mueller’s face paled at this.

Marshall continued, “With your compliance, I’m sure we can limit the scope of our interference in your company.”

Adele glanced back, flashing a look of gratitude toward the younger agent. Marshall kept her gaze on Mueller, her expression still polite.

The director glanced between the two women, still frowning. At last though, he sighed and said, “I can give you personnel files, but you can’t stay here looking into them. It would be bad for business if it got out that private information was freely handed over to the government, understand? I’m expecting discretion here.”

Adele nodded her thanks. “When can we have those files by?”

The director shrugged. “In a couple of days, I’m sure—”

“—Within the hour. Email them here.” Adele grabbed an expensive-looking pen sticking from an ornamental desk set and scribbled on a notepad; she pushed the email address toward the director. “Please,” she added. “We won’t take any more of your time. The employee records need to be in that inbox within the hour, or I’m coming back with a crime scene team.” Here, she leaned into the threat, fixing her gaze on the director.

Sometimes, even kings needed proper motivation. She didn’t want to cause any trouble, but any delay could allow the killer to escape; that was something she simply couldn’t afford. Adele turned and exited the office, leading Agents Renee and Marshall away from the office and through the circular, glass waiting room of the Lion Pharmaceutical company.

Somewhere in those records, they would find a red-haired man who’d been traveling in the last few weeks. Adele would stake everything on it. That would be their killer. They were closing in, and he didn’t even know it.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

The smell of cheap takeout from a local Thai restaurant wafted on the still air of the borrowed office, hanging beneath the gray ceiling and pressing against the bare walls. Three uncomfortable metal chairs crowded around a circular wooden table. Adele wasn’t sure where this warehouse ranked in the BKA’s list of real estate assets, but she surmised it couldn’t have been high on the list.

The limousine, coupled with this dingy office in the basement of an abandoned warehouse suggested that perhaps the BKA still wasn’t thrilled about foreign agents operating on their soil. But Adele didn’t care. All that mattered now: they had the files.

The three of them were on laptops, their devices set up on the circular table, emitting quiet tapping sounds as they pressed the keys and searched through the records provided to them by Director Mueller’s office.

Adele cleared her throat, nearly choking on some dust that had fallen from the light fixture above. She coughed, then tried again. “Look for anyone who went on leave in the last couple of months,” said Adele. “Especially if they travel frequently.”

John grunted, making eyes toward Agent Marshall every few moments.

“Could we focus, please?” Adele said, her tone clipped.

Renee ignored her, but Agent Marshall went red and stared at her computer screen, dutifully searching the Lion Pharmaceutical employee records.

“No one,” said John with a grunt, his accent heavy from continuing in English for Marshall’s sake. “No red-haired employees. Surprising given how many of them there are, isn’t it? Couple of them might’ve been, once upon a time. They’re bald, now. Didn’t realize how many chrome Germans there were.” John snickered.

Adele passed a hand over her face, massaging her temples. The single naked bulb in the ceiling illuminated the cramped space with buzzing white light and further served to exacerbate her headache. The half empty cartons of Thai had tasted good on the way down, but Adele found they weren’t playing nice with her intestines.

Still, exhaustion had settled, embracing her. She needed sleep and more food, and some time to think. But any time wasted was time gifted to the killer. By now, he could have discovered they were closing in. Director Mueller could have told his employees that agents were searching for them.