Dial nodded in understanding. Fire scenes were the worst. ‘Let’s get the list of names they put together from the cars. Check the nationalities of everyone involved.’
‘Oui.’
‘And get me a list of our top agents in Sweden. I want to know who we have in Stockholm who can answer our questions.’
‘Of course. Anything else?’
‘No. That’s it for now.’
Toulon nodded, but he didn’t leave the room. Instead, he just stood there, staring at Dial as if it would be rude to talk without his permission.
‘What is it?’ Dial snapped.
‘I have yet to determine how this incident hit our radar so quickly. If this happened overnight and they haven’t identified a single victim, why were we notified?’
Dial shrugged. It was a good question, one he hadn’t considered until that very moment. Based on preliminary reports, he had assumed the case had been brought to his attention because it had met the basic criteria for Interpol’s involvement, meaning it was an international incident of some kind. But Toulon was correct: if the explosion had occurred in Stockholm and no borders had been crossed in the commission of the crime, then Dial had no authority in the case.
This was a matter for the Swedish police, not Interpol.
‘Start there,’ Dial said. He opened the top drawer of his desk and grabbed Toulon’s cigarettes. He tossed them back to Henri as if they were a reward for his insight. ‘But first, go home and get some sleep. You look like shit.’
Toulon placed the Stockholm file at the back of Dial’s inbox and headed for the door. When he opened it, he inadvertently collided with a young man who was attempting to enter. As they stepped back from one another, Toulon bowed and tipped an imaginary cap. ‘So good to see you, mademoiselle.’ Then he pushed by the visitor and continued forward without waiting for a response.
Dial knew Toulon well enough to detect his sarcastic tone.
Then again, Toulon did little to hide the way he felt.
For his part, the young man looked equally disgusted by the encounter. He set his jaw and crumpled his nose, as if his unplanned interaction with Toulon was both the most insulting and the most repugnant thing he could envision.
‘Sebastian,’ Dial said drily. ‘Why are you in my office?’
Sebastian James was the special assistant to the Interpol secretary general. He was the product of some of the world’s finest educational institutions, and he had worked his way up through the ranks of Interpol by means of successful politicking, rather than years of field service. Few people could place his nationality, as he spoke several languages without the hint of an accent. He would regularly demean those he considered beneath him in a tongue they couldn’t understand — and he considered nearly everyone to be beneath him.
To reinforce his ‘holier than thou’ demeanor, he was always impeccably dressed. From his Hermès ties to his Bruno Magli shoes, he made every attempt to exude importance. He was angling for Interpol’s top post — at least for starters — and everyone knew it.
In short, he was the type of guy that Dial despised.
‘You’re going to Stockholm,’ James announced.
‘On whose orders?’ Dial demanded.
He knew James didn’t have the authority to send him out for coffee, much less a trip to Sweden, and he wanted James to admit it.
‘The secretary general,’ James clarified. ‘He’s sending you there … today. Pack your bags. Your plane leaves in less than two hours.’
Dial leaned back in his chair. ‘I think I’ll wait to hear from him, if it’s all the same to you.’
‘He sent me to tell you, and my word is the same as his.’
‘Is that so? Does he know you feel this way?’
James’s face turned bright red. He was about to clarify his remark, but Dial cut him off before he had a chance. ‘What’s so important in Stockholm?’
‘There was an explosion,’ James informed him. ‘At least twenty dead. Maybe more. It’s all over the morning news.’
‘I’m familiar with the incident,’ Dial said, thankful that Toulon had brought it to his attention. The last thing he needed was to be briefed by James. He didn’t have the time or patience to wade through the asshole’s long-winded explanation. ‘I’m waiting for the NCB report. I’ll have it by the end of the day.’
‘You’re not getting it,’ James countered. ‘The secretary wants your report by the end of the day. We’re not leaving this to the NCB. There’s too much at stake.’
Dial didn’t flinch. There was nothing about his body language that suggested he had any intention of going. ‘Once again I ask: what’s so important in Stockholm?’
James realized Dial wasn’t going to jump to attention without a full explanation, so he pulled up a chair and sat down. ‘It would appear the victims of last night’s tragedy represent a multitude of nations from around the world. And I’m not referring to tourists. It seems that several highly respected scientists somehow found their way to the same laboratory in Sweden. We’ve been fielding calls all morning. Delegates want to know why their countrymen were targeted, and by whom.’
The General Assembly, the controlling body that governed Interpol, was comprised of delegates from every member country, and was responsible for most aspects of Interpol’s operation: finances, staffing, agenda, and so on. Its power in the organization was virtually absolute.
Dial nodded in understanding. ‘Everyone feels they’ve lost their best and brightest. That they’ve been robbed of the next super-genius. Is that it?’
James grinned, relishing his sense of superiority. He might have been younger than Dial, but right now he knew something that Dial didn’t. ‘It’s almost nothing like that. These men and women weren’t the fresh-faced new generation of scientific prodigies. They were the old guard. Relics of a bygone era whose research, while once cutting edge, had seemingly reached its inevitable conclusions.’
‘Relics, and yet the secretary’s phone has been ringing off the hook?’
James nodded. ‘They’ve all had their moment in the sun. They’ve all furthered the understanding of their respective disciplines. It’s simply that nature has run its course, thrusting their once proud achievements into the realm of obscurity, if not complete obsolescence.’ He paused, if only to set up his final remark on the subject. ‘An ancient vase may be cracked and serve no useful purpose, but it still has some value in a museum.’
Although the last comment bothered him, Dial ignored it. His goal was to get to the heart of the investigation as quickly as possible, if for no other reason than to get James out of his office. ‘You said respective disciplines, plural. Which scientific fields are in play?’
‘A mix of studies — botany, zoology, anthropology, genetics, and so on. You can educate yourself on the plane. You now have …’ he checked his watch, ‘ninety minutes.’
‘Tell the secretary I’ll be ready in three hours,’ Dial countered. He guessed the difference wouldn’t upset the secretary general in the slightest, but he knew that delivering the news of a scheduling change would more than ruffle James’s finely groomed feathers.
James glared at him. ‘I suggest you take that imbecile Toulon with you. You’re the only one who tolerates his nonsense. Heaven only knows what havoc he would wreak in your absence.’
Whatever disregard James felt for Dial paled in comparison to the utter contempt he felt for Toulon. He simply could not stand to be near the Frenchman — and interacting with him was entirely out of the question. Ultimately, if Dial took Toulon on the trip, it would be nothing less than a personal favor to James.