“Yes. I do.”
“We’ve located Desmond Hughes. He’s still in Berlin. We’ll have him within a few hours.”
“Be very careful. Underestimating him will be the last thing you ever do.”
When the door closed, Conner opened his email and sent a series of messages. It was time to begin phase two.
On another screen, a map and statistics showed infection rates around the world.
As expected, they were climbing.
Chapter 14
Spiegel Online
Breaking News Alert
The Berlin Police are asking for help in finding Desmond Hughes, an American man wanted for murder as well as assaulting two police officers. Hughes, pictured above, was last seen near the Brandenburg Gate. If you have any information, call a special police hotline immediately at (030) 4664-8.
At around 7:30 yesterday morning two uniformed police officers and a hotel security guard were sent to investigate a disturbance at Hughes’s hotel room. Shortly after entering the suite, Hughes assaulted the uniformed officers and held the hotel employee at gunpoint. He proceeded to rob all three men, steal a police handgun and ID card, and flee the scene in a taxi, which police have now located. The driver described Hughes as a quiet man who claimed to be a tourist interested in the city’s layout and routes in and out. Authorities believe Hughes is still in Berlin and is considered armed and extremely dangerous.
Hours ago, law enforcement in America launched a raid on Hughes’s lavish home outside San Francisco, California. They’ve told the press only that the home had been recently burglarized and ransacked.
Chapter 15
Desmond had barely slept. The anticipation of talking to the source—and the hope that he might finally learn what had happened to him—had consumed his thoughts.
At first light, he took out his phone to do some research in preparation for the day. He wondered if whoever had sent Gunter Thorne to his hotel room would be prowling the streets, looking for him. He knew the Berlin police were. One or both groups might already know about his meeting with the mysterious man he had called—the person who had been corresponding with him via the Google Voice line. That meant that today would be a contest of cleverness—and, if they found him, physical might. Desmond wanted to be prepared. It took him hours to put the pieces in place, but by noon he was finished and on his way to the heart of Berlin, where his elaborate game would unfold.
He wore dark sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled down nearly to his eyebrows. Among the tourists and locals, he blended in well. He walked along the tree-lined thoroughfare of Unter Den Linden, his pace casual, his gaze straight ahead. Behind the dark glasses his eyes scanned everyone who passed him, every vehicle.
At the end of Unter Den Linden lay Pariser Platz, an open-air pedestrian square closed off to automobile traffic, and beyond that was the Tiergarten, a lush green park crisscrossed with walking trails. The US and French embassies lined the square, and the UK embassy was close by. If Desmond was cornered by the police or the group who had sent Gunter Thorne to his hotel room, he would retreat to one of the embassies—but only as a last resort.