She took the silver keepsake off the map, placed it in her pocket, and pushed a red pin into the map where Kenya, Ethiopia, and Somalia met, marking it as an outbreak of a viral hemorrhagic fever.
She always kept two duffel bags packed: a first world bag and a third world bag. She grabbed the third world bag and added the appropriate AC adapters for Kenya.
As soon as things slowed down, she’d have to call her mother and sister to let them know she was deploying. Thanksgiving was in four days, and Peyton had a feeling she was going to miss it.
She hated to admit it, but in a way Peyton was relieved. Her sister, Madison, was Peyton’s only remaining sibling. The death of their brother had brought them closer, but recently every conversation with Madison had ended with her sister asking Peyton why she wasn’t dating and insisting that her chance for a family was rapidly slipping away. At thirty-eight, Peyton had to concede the point, but she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted a family. In fact, she wasn’t at all sure what she wanted from her life outside of work. Her work had become her life, and she believed what she was doing was important. She liked getting the calls in the middle of the night. The mystery every outbreak brought, knowing her hard work saved lives, that every second mattered.
And as of right now, the clock was ticking.
On the street below, a man sitting in a car watched Peyton pull out of the underground parking deck.
He spoke into the open comm line as he cranked the car. “Subject is on the move. No visitors. No text messages. Only one phone call—from her contact at the WHO.”
Chapter 4
Desmond stared through the peephole, watching the hotel security guard bring the key card toward the door lock. Two uniformed Berlin police officers stood beside him, hands on their hips.
Desmond flipped the privacy latch, preventing the door from opening. “Just a minute, please,” he said in English, trying his best to sound annoyed. “I’m not dressed.”
“Please hurry, Mr. Hughes,” the security guard said.
Desmond studied the dead man lying on the floor.
His mind rifled through options.
Option one: go out the window. He walked to the tall glass and examined it. He was at least ten stories up, and there was no fire escape or any other means to get to the ground in one, non-splattered piece. Besides, it looked like the window didn’t open.
Option two: make a run for it. He gave that zero chance of success. He was in no shape to push past three men, much less beat them in a foot race.
That left option three: hiding the body and seeing it through.
But where?
The living room was furnished with a desk and office chair, a couch, a side chair, and an entertainment center. A heating unit sat under the tall windows and floor-to-ceiling drapes. A wide opening with double pocket doors led to the bedroom, which held a king size bed with two nightstands, another window with a heating unit under it, and a closet. The narrow bathroom opened only from the bedroom.