Left To Die

She adjusted her posture. Instead of squaring her shoulders, she slouched, instead of standing with her arms at her side, she crossed them, in a defensive, submissive position. She put one leg over the other for a second, fidgeting and scratching at her ankle with her foot in an awkward, ungainly gesture. She shuffled again, trying to find purchase, and muttered quietly to herself as if trying to gather her nerves.

“Sorry,” she said, quickly. “I’m so sorry.” She even raised her voice a little bit, softening her consonants and extending her vowels in a sort of childish way. “I know how busy you must be. Please, could you tell me about this compound? It’s quite difficult to understand.”

“I have to finish this phone call,” said Director Mueller. At her words, he seemed to calm somewhat. “You could come back in a half hour, say, and I’d be happy to answer whatever questions you have.”

Adele fidgeted, gnawing on the corner for lip, playing clueless. She did have boundaries. But if she needed to play the sheep, she would play it. If she needed to flirt, she would do that too. There were those, especially those like Agent Paige, who thought every problem was a nail, and so they played the hammer. But Adele had learned from Robert that sometimes you caught more bees with honey.

“The thing is,” she said, “if we wait half an hour, then more agents from the BKA may come by. It could become this whole thing. I really don’t want to have to shut down your offices today. To be honest, it sounds unfair to me, but that’s just the way policy works.” She gave a helpless little shrug.

Director Mueller was frowning now.

Adele continued, “If you could just tell me what this compound is, we could be on our way in a minute. Please? I need your help.” She kept her tone earnest, her arms still crossed.

Director Mueller rolled his eyes and met the gaze of the male assistant in the room, sharing a knowing look over Adele’s shoulder. But finally, he waved his hand from behind his standing desk like a king imperiously summoning a subject. “Show me what compound,” he said.

Adele turned and retrieved the folder from John—who flashed her a wink—before approaching Director Mueller.

He opened the folder and scanned it, his plastic features betraying no expression whatsoever. At last though, frowning, his eyes flicked up. “Where did you get this?”

Adele gnawed on her lip again. “I’m not really sure. But it’s connected to something. It’s not a big deal. But do you know where it’s from?”

Everyone else in the room remained quiet, watching the strange exchange between the director and the FBI agent.

Director Mueller glanced at the file again and clicked his tongue.

He turned toward his standing desk and tapped at a laptop keyboard. A second later, his eyes scanned the screen, and he nodded. “I knew I recognized it. Yes. That was Project 132z. It was supposed to be a paralytic for the medical field, but we weren’t granted the proper approvals from,” he paused, and then very quickly recited, “the Bundesinstitut für Arzneimittel und Medizinprodukte.” He smirked at Adele. “Do you know what that is?”

Inwardly, Adele translated the title as, The Federal Institute for Drugs and Medical Devices. But out loud, she said, “They sound important. So this drug of yours—it was forbidden?”

Director Mueller nodded. “We had to cancel Project 132z. It wasn’t one of our bigger earners, anyway. What’s this about? Did a competitor put you on this?”

Adele shook her head. “No, this has nothing to do with a competitor. So you’re saying your lab did make the substance?”

Director Mueller paused, noticing a shift in Adele’s tone. His eyes narrowed for a moment, “I think perhaps I have to speak with a lawyer.”

But Adele leaned on his standing desk, looking Director Mueller in the eyes. “We’re not interested in your company, sir. That I can promise you. We’re here to find a murderer. I can’t go into the details, but he’s been using that substance of yours. And, as I said earlier, I have no interest in shutting down your operations, or having BKA agents swarming your company—who knows what they might find. I can’t imagine that would do anything nice to your stock prices.”

The sudden shift in Adele’s posture and tone caught Mueller off guard. A flicker of annoyance crossed his features. A king rarely enjoyed being questioned by a subject, but Adele spoke quickly, not allowing his emotions to settle, hoping she would engage the part of him most concerned with his job rather than his ego. Robert had been a master at manipulating conversations, and some of his acumen had rubbed off on her.

“If you could just help us,” she said, “we’ll be on our way without interrupting anything. It is important to note that your drug is at the center of six separate murder investigations. Now, we could investigate your company…”

At this, the director’s expression soured. “I have thousands of employees. I can’t possibly know what all of them are up to.”