‘I’ll inform the secretary about your adjustment to his schedule,’ James said as he stood.
‘You do that,’ Dial said. ‘But before you do, close my door behind you.’
Dial waited for privacy before he stared at the inbox again. At the back of the row was the file Toulon had left for him.
Botanists, zoologists, and many other fields.
What the hell was going on in this lab?
He picked up the phone and dialed a familiar extension. After one ring, he was connected to Toulon’s office voicemail.
‘Henri, it’s Nick. Things just got a lot more interesting. The director wants me in Stockholm to handle the case. While I’m gone, I’m putting you in charge.’ He stared at the empty chair across from him and smiled. ‘I need you to update Sebastian James on a daily basis.’
Then he grinned wickedly. ‘No, scratch that. I’ll need you to meet with him hourly.’
4
The main focus of Interpol had little to do with the day-to-day investigation of criminal activities. Instead, that responsibility was left to local law enforcement officers (LEOs) in Interpol’s member countries. Local LEOs collected the evidence. They arrested the suspects. They also held the trials and carried out any punishment according to local laws.
All in all, a pretty straightforward procedure.
Unless, of course, a case involved multiple countries.
That was when things got messy.
Interpol’s primary role was to coordinate the flow of information gathered by the local LEOs and to make it available to member nations. That way, if someone was arrested for assault in Vienna, the Austrian police could quickly check Interpol’s database to see if the suspect was wanted for crimes in other parts of the world. If, for instance, he was wanted for murder in Toronto, arrangements could be made to transport him to Canada, where he would stand trial for a more serious charge. At the very least, it might help the Austrian police track down known associates or other details that might help them solve their case.
But sometimes that wasn’t enough.
Sometimes the head of a division (Drugs, Counterfeiting, Terrorism, etc.) was brought in when a case involved multiple countries. Possibly to cut through red tape. Or to handle a border dispute. Or to deal with the international media. Dial realized all of these situations were in play, or else the secretary general wouldn’t have sent him to Stockholm on such short notice.
Dial reviewed the case file during his flight and confirmed what he had been told earlier. Everyone trapped inside the burning warehouse had been burned beyond recognition. It would take days, possibly weeks, for all the victims to be positively identified by their dental records.
In the meantime, the police were forced to make assumptions about the victims based on the cars found in the warehouse parking lot. The Swedish authorities ran the license plates of the cars and came up with a list of names that read like a United Nations roll calclass="underline"
Gerwick van Hooseldorf
Kenoshi Yakamura
Viktor Eisen
Stephanie Albright
Juan Carjego
Mustafa Yussaf
Abioye Owusu
And many more …
Several phone calls were made to verify the names, but the language barrier between the police and the victims’ families had hindered the flow of information. Translators were brought in to help the investigators, but that only seemed to produce more drama than answers. Dial knew from experience that it was something the LEOs should have anticipated. Most people reacted poorly to the death of a loved one, but throw in some uncertainty — we think your husband is dead but we’re not really sure — and emotions tended to rage out of control.
Within hours of the inferno, the wife of a German scientist had contacted her embassy. Minutes later, an Interpol delegate from Berlin had been notified of the situation. That sparked a flurry of activity in which other delegates were informed of the tragedy, and the secretary general was roused from his peaceful slumber. To quell the growing uproar and to make sure all the delegates received updates as quickly as possible, the director selected the one man he knew who could keep his cool and handle a tragedy of this magnitude.
Not that it sat well with Dial.
To him, this part of his job was like being a traffic cop. He was told to stand out in the open, a target for everyone, and direct the flow of information in order to prevent collisions. It wasn’t exactly what he had envisioned when he accepted the post. In his line of work, the only thing that mattered was justice — righting a wrong in the fairest way possible. That was the creed he had lived by as an investigator and the creed he followed as director.
But justice was rare in cases like this.
There were too many moving parts.
Dial stepped out of a taxi at the scene of the crime and was surprised by the setting. He knew the building had been described as a warehouse with a vast laboratory inside, but he had pictured a modernized industrial park on the edge of town, not a picturesque building on the water’s edge. The charred walls and broken windows didn’t help its curb appeal, but nothing about the exterior gave any indication that scientific research had been conducted inside.
‘Chief Dial,’ a voice yelled. ‘You’ll want to see this.’
Dial turned and saw a gray-haired man in thick-soled rubber boots and a dirty poncho waving him over. The weather was warm and dry, so Dial rightly assumed the rain gear was to protect the man’s clothes from the ash-filled water that often leaked from ceilings after a major blaze. The fact that this guy knew enough about fires to dress accordingly gave Dial hope. He nodded at him and headed his way.
‘Johann Eklund,’ the man announced. ‘Stockholm police.’
‘Nick Dial,’ he said as he shook the man’s hand. ‘Interpol.’
Eklund laughed. ‘I know who you are. I’ve been waiting for your arrival.’
With that, he turned and led Dial to the far side of the building.
Based on Eklund’s hair, his walk, and his slightly withered features, Dial concluded that he was well into his fifties, maybe even his sixties. Dial liked to think he was seldom surprised, but this caught him off guard. Not because detective work was a young man’s game — he realized that most cops were better in their golden years than they ever were as rookies — he simply had never seen an Interpol NCB agent with this much experience. The hours were long, the paperwork was tedious, and the money wasn’t great. Typically, Interpol got five, maybe ten good years from an NCB agent before he or she moved on to something else, but it seemed Eklund had made a career of it.
Dial pointed at the smoldering warehouse as they walked. ‘I know everyone’s treating this like a homicide, but how can we know for sure?’
‘Because the secretary general sent you,’ Eklund replied. ‘If it wasn’t a homicide, I really doubt he would have sent someone of your stature.’
Normally Dial would have ripped into a subordinate agent for such a sarcastic remark, but it was different with Eklund. Dial sensed the Swede was a kindred spirit, someone who fully understood the concept of bureaucratic bullshit, so he let the comment slide.
‘That being said,’ Eklund continued, ‘I suppose I should show you the evidence that led your boss to such an obvious conclusion.’
To avoid the police tape and any members of the media that might be lurking, Eklund led Dial around the far corner of the building to an emergency exit that had been hidden from view. Two local cops flanked the door, their hands tensely gripping assault rifles as if they were expecting an ambush.