“Perhaps not. But either way, it isn’t fair of me to put you in that position. I hope you know that I do care for you. Greatly. And I want to see you succeed. There are very few agents that I’ve worked with who are as talented as you. You’re more relentless than any of them. And more determined than even I was at your age.”
Adele smiled at this, but then fidgeted. She thought of her father, and how little chance she’d had to become accustomed to kind words, the thought propelling her into a flush of gratitude toward Robert.
“I care about you too,” she said, glancing out the window again. “You’ve been like a father to me; I hope you know that. And my heart may not be in France, but a piece of it is. I don’t know quite where I belong. I hope to figure that out. You’d think in my thirties I would have some idea.”
Robert chuckled at this, though, and shook his head. “It doesn’t get any better toward the end of sixty either. Trust me.”
Adele chuckled. She hesitated, then said, “If it’s all right with you, I would like to stay in my old room instead of that cold hotel. I don’t know how long I’ll be in France. And if the phone call with Executive Foucault goes well, Germany will be allowing us temporary jurisdiction as soon as possible. But when I return, I might have to spend a couple of nights in France still. It would be nice to have a home.”
Robert watched her for a moment, his face expressionless. For a moment, Adele wasn’t sure if she’d offended him somehow. But then she spotted the moistness in his eyes, and his right hand trembling slightly where it was tucked over his left.
“I would very much like that,” he said, clearing his throat. “There are a couple of books that I think you might like. I’ll have them placed in your room before you get there. Should I have someone retrieve your things?”
Adele shrugged. “If you’d like. It’s only really a suitcase. In fact, I haven’t even opened it yet, except for a change of clothes.”
Robert grinned, revealing his two missing teeth; his gap-toothed smile clashing with the rest of his immaculately maintained appearance. Adele allowed herself a quiet chuckle, remembering the many farfetched stories her mentor told about how he lost his teeth.
“Well,” said Robert, “I’ll—” But before he could finish his sentence, Adele felt a hand grip her shoulder.
She jolted and whirled sharply around, resisting the urge to strike out with the flat of her palm to distance herself from an attacker. Agent Renee was staring down at her, his eyes holding a mirth that Adele couldn’t quite place. But it was similar to the look he’d carried when he’d teased her about inside information pertaining to Agent Paige.
“What?” Adele snapped.
“Foucault’s off the phone. He sorted it with the BKA.”
Adele’s eyes widened. “Sorted it? What do you mean?”
John cleared his throat, and his expression soured. “I mean we’re headed to Germany. We don’t have time to pack bags. Anything we need we can buy there. But BKA is willing to work with us on this temporarily. They want to catch the guy too.”
John turned and began stalking up the hall, not waiting for Adele to fall into step.
For a moment she stood in the doorway, staring after a partner, her mouth wide. An FBI agent partnered with a DGSI operative, heading to Germany to work with the BKA, all under the supervision of Interpol. It was unheard of.
Adele shook her head in mild shock. The killer wouldn’t escape. Not this time. They were going to catch him. She knew it. They had to.
At the thought, a strange sensation came over her, like shivering after being doused with ice water. She frowned at the ominous feeling, unsure of its origin for the moment. Somehow, though, as the dreadful feeling spread, she knew that what came next wouldn’t be easy. The killer was not the sort to go down lightly. He was arrogant and dangerous; a deadly man. She would have to do her best to make sure no one else was hurt in his apprehension.
Adele glanced back over her shoulder toward Robert, raising an eyebrow. “You still think he has red hair?” she said.
Robert paused, thought, then nodded. “I’m confident he does. I don’t think it’s a wig. But I think you shouldn’t underestimate this man. He’s confident and has been leading the chase for a while now. He won’t go down easy. And if he can, he’s going to take bodies with him.”
Adele pursed her lips. “I think you’re right. See you in a few days, hopefully.”
Robert gave a small rolling finger wave, but he was no longer smiling as he watched her exit the door and hurry after John, racing down the hall to catch up with his long strides.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
So many flights in so few days. Adele could feel the exhaustion weighing on her like sandbags strapped to her limbs. Still, as she settled in the limousine, with Agent Renee against the other window, she glanced toward the young woman seated across from them.
Their German attaché couldn’t have been older than twenty. She had a nervous, excited energy about her as she surveyed the two agents settling in the back seat of the limousine. If the age of their BKA connection didn’t suggest the German authorities were sending a message, then the provided vehicle certainly did. Adele had never been picked up by a limousine in her life.
A twenty-year-old tour guide in a gauche limousine—the BKA were having a go and Adele wasn’t amused.
Through the window, Adele spotted passengers streaming through sliding glass doors toward waiting vehicles or toward the taxis lining the gates. She heard the sound of jet engines rumbling the sky above and could smell gasoline and stale smoke on the air, settling in the still cabin.
Adele moved her right hand between her leg and the door, so the others couldn’t see, and she pinched herself, trying to propel the pain through her system to jolt herself awake. She needed caffeine. They’d served coffee on the plane, though, and it had done little to revive her.
“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.