trial?”
Smith felt the mood in the room darken. “As I said, I traveled to The Hague to attend a WHO conference on infectious diseases. While I’d been notified by the prosecutor that he might need my testimony at some point in the future regarding the handling of a cholera outbreak in the region, I was not scheduled to appear before the tribunal.”
“Are you aware that several witnesses were staying at the Grand Royal at the time of the attack?”
Smith glanced down at the podium while he did his best to contain his emotion at this piece of information. The location of testifying witnesses was to have remained strictly secret, and he had not considered that some might have been staying at a high-profile hotel like the Grand Royal. Smith wondered how the journalist had uncovered this bit of intelligence, and he wondered why Klein hadn’t mentioned to him that witnesses might have been staying at the hotel. He looked up at the expectant faces staring back at him.
“Are you sure of that information?”
The journalist deflated visibly, and Smith thought his first question was a stab in the dark. He thought of the woman, but dismissed the idea as soon as he had it. Nothing Klein had uncovered revealed that she’d died in the attack.
“I’m asking you,” the journalist said in an attempt to parry the question.
“I’m not privy to any additional information about the proceedings against Dattar than is publicly available.”
General Randolph clapped his hands. “Thank you all. You can understand that Lieutenant Colonel Smith needs to move on from this terrible experience and reconnect with his family and loved ones. This press conference is over.”
Smith felt another pang at General Randolph’s words, well meaning though they were. As a Covert-One operative, Smith had no living immediate family, no wife, and no children. He’d always relished the complete freedom that his lack of ties gave him, but for a brief moment, standing there on the podium, he felt a pang of loneliness. He shook it off, straightened, and followed the general out of the conference room.
Smith settled back into the military transport for the ride to the hotel. Next to him on the seat was a small duffel that contained his civilian clothes. He felt his phone begin vibrating when he was nearly at his destination. It was Klein.
“Saw the press conference. I have a request out to be allowed access to every witness the prosecutor called or expected to call in the Dattar matter, as well as every witness he interviewed when preparing the case. I’ll have an answer for you before the end of the day.”
“You read my mind.”
“I still think it may be a side issue, but I respect your instincts. If you think finding her will get us closer to finding the bacteria, then I’m willing to run down the photo.”
The car turned into an alley located behind the hotel and stopped. Smith climbed out, still holding the phone.
Private Mercer pointed to a door located behind a dumpster. “Sir, sorry for leaving you at the service entrance, but we were told to avoid the main lobby and to let you slip in on your own. That entrance leads to a back hallway.” Private Mercer whispered the information so as not to disturb the call. Smith saluted both soldiers and stood aside while the car reversed down the alley and drove away. As he approached the door, he noted the closed-circuit cameras that monitored the entrance; his mind was engaged with his phone conversation and his concentration on the problem of the photo. He saw the glint of light that flashed from the bushes at the top of the narrow alley, but was slow to register the danger.
13
A LOUD TRUCK HORN BLARED from a nearby street. Smith jerked his head to look, but kept his hand with the phone in the same position. A searing pain entered his palm, piercing the flesh, and he reacted by dropping the phone. The bullet slammed into the metal dumpster to his right, and ricocheted off at an angle.
Smith felt the mood in the room darken. “As I said, I traveled to The Hague to attend a WHO conference on infectious diseases. While I’d been notified by the prosecutor that he might need my testimony at some point in the future regarding the handling of a cholera outbreak in the region, I was not scheduled to appear before the tribunal.”
“Are you aware that several witnesses were staying at the Grand Royal at the time of the attack?”
Smith glanced down at the podium while he did his best to contain his emotion at this piece of information. The location of testifying witnesses was to have remained strictly secret, and he had not considered that some might have been staying at a high-profile hotel like the Grand Royal. Smith wondered how the journalist had uncovered this bit of intelligence, and he wondered why Klein hadn’t mentioned to him that witnesses might have been staying at the hotel. He looked up at the expectant faces staring back at him.
“Are you sure of that information?”
The journalist deflated visibly, and Smith thought his first question was a stab in the dark. He thought of the woman, but dismissed the idea as soon as he had it. Nothing Klein had uncovered revealed that she’d died in the attack.
“I’m asking you,” the journalist said in an attempt to parry the question.
“I’m not privy to any additional information about the proceedings against Dattar than is publicly available.”
General Randolph clapped his hands. “Thank you all. You can understand that Lieutenant Colonel Smith needs to move on from this terrible experience and reconnect with his family and loved ones. This press conference is over.”
Smith felt another pang at General Randolph’s words, well meaning though they were. As a Covert-One operative, Smith had no living immediate family, no wife, and no children. He’d always relished the complete freedom that his lack of ties gave him, but for a brief moment, standing there on the podium, he felt a pang of loneliness. He shook it off, straightened, and followed the general out of the conference room.
Smith settled back into the military transport for the ride to the hotel. Next to him on the seat was a small duffel that contained his civilian clothes. He felt his phone begin vibrating when he was nearly at his destination. It was Klein.
“Saw the press conference. I have a request out to be allowed access to every witness the prosecutor called or expected to call in the Dattar matter, as well as every witness he interviewed when preparing the case. I’ll have an answer for you before the end of the day.”
“You read my mind.”
“I still think it may be a side issue, but I respect your instincts. If you think finding her will get us closer to finding the bacteria, then I’m willing to run down the photo.”
The car turned into an alley located behind the hotel and stopped. Smith climbed out, still holding the phone.
Private Mercer pointed to a door located behind a dumpster. “Sir, sorry for leaving you at the service entrance, but we were told to avoid the main lobby and to let you slip in on your own. That entrance leads to a back hallway.” Private Mercer whispered the information so as not to disturb the call. Smith saluted both soldiers and stood aside while the car reversed down the alley and drove away. As he approached the door, he noted the closed-circuit cameras that monitored the entrance; his mind was engaged with his phone conversation and his concentration on the problem of the photo. He saw the glint of light that flashed from the bushes at the top of the narrow alley, but was slow to register the danger.
13
A LOUD TRUCK HORN BLARED from a nearby street. Smith jerked his head to look, but kept his hand with the phone in the same position. A searing pain entered his palm, piercing the flesh, and he reacted by dropping the phone. The bullet slammed into the metal dumpster to his right, and ricocheted off at an angle.
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