7:45 am Central European Daylight Time
Interpol Liaison Office - Special Investigations Unit
Europol Headquarters
The Hague, The Netherlands
“Where are they?”
Miquel had just arrived with his coffee and a sweet roll. As usual, he walked in to find that Jan Bakker was already here, perched in his normal place, computers and various blinking devices lined up in front of him. Jan should probably just pull a cot in here, so he never had to return home. It would have to be quite a large cot, however.
“They’re in Reims,” Jan said. “At a guest house.”
“Together?” Miquel said.
“Agent Dubois expensed it. They booked two rooms.”
Miquel smiled. That wasn’t what he meant. He had known Dubois her entire career. Stark wasn’t her type.
“We can afford the extra room.”
Miquel did a quick calculation in his mind. Reims to Lyon was perhaps five hours by car, four hours by train. It was nearly 8am now. Clearly, Dubois was not going to arrive at Interpol headquarters bright and early this morning.
“There was an incident,” Jan said. “In the night.”
Miquel glanced out the glass walls of the office at the corridor. People were beginning to arrive. He had not yet been called in to speak to any more concerned officials, but he assumed it was coming. He had this office swept for listening devices every week, so they were probably free to talk. But the incidents were starting to pile up. Jan was a master of encrypting communications, but it was not out of the question that their hosts here at Europol were attempting to break those encryptions.
“What was its nature?”
Jan shook his head. He still hadn’t turned around. “They didn’t say, and I didn’t encourage them to. They did acquire a laptop, which they have turned on, and which I am attempting to access remotely. It is going to be a bit of a job.”
“Can we speak with them?” Miquel said.
Now Jan spun around in his chair. He raised an eyebrow. “Of course. We were merely waiting upon your arrival.”
Miquel smiled. Jan Bakker never seemed to sleep and did not seem to have a personal life beyond hobbies nearly as intricate as the paid work he did. He processed mountains of information much like a computer, and at lightning speeds. He also couldn’t seem to understand people who did not live as he did, which was nearly everyone else on Earth.
“Now I’m here,” Miquel said.
Jan nodded. “Good. I can make an encrypted call directly to Dubois’s room. Unfortunately, it will be wide open for interception on their end, but at the moment it’s the best we can do.”
“Okay. We will try not to divulge too much.”
A device on Jan’s long table was serving as a telephone. It was a nondescript thing made of black plastic, with a speaker embedded on top of it, and a microphone built in somewhere. There were no lights on it. It seemed like a device from an earlier era.
From the speaker came the sound of a phone ringing.
“Yes?” a female voice said.
“Mariem, it’s Jan. I’m here with Miquel.”
“Good,” she said. “And I’m here with our friend from abroad.”
“Very good,” Miquel said. “Good morning to you both. Before we begin, Mariem, please make sure that you call headquarters this morning, and inform them you are taking a personal day. It’s highly unusual, given the questions lingering about yesterday’s interrogation, but it is your right to take a day off. You can always provide further information tomorrow. Just be sure to inform them that you are in Lyon and returned there yesterday evening.”
“Understood,” Dubois said. “I will do that as soon as we end this call.”
Miquel nodded. “All right. Now please give me the update but be careful about the details. Only what is crucial to convey.”
Stark came on the line. “Lucien Mebarak,” he said. “We have a military grade laptop computer that we believe belongs to him. It’s what we used to call in my combat days a toughbook. You can kick it around without breaking it. Jan is working on accessing it now.”
Miquel glanced at Jan. Indeed he was. He had returned to his computers and seemed to be lending only half an ear to the conversation.
“We had a confrontation with men we believe work for Mebarak,” Dubois said.
“Was anyone injured?” Miquel said. This was a concern. If either Dubois or Stark had been wounded, and they were out in the field, then it instantly became more pressing to bring them back into the fold.
“No one on this side,” Dubois said.
“Witnesses?” Miquel said.
“Hard to say at this time.”
“We need whatever we can get on Mebarak,” Stark said. “He seems to be an unwanted member of the wealthy and wonderful Willems family, and sometimes uses that name. But given our discussions with his half-sister, I’d guess he goes by other names as well. First and foremost, I need to know where he lives. He’s probably got a bunch of houses, but I need the one where he is right now.”
It was interesting to Miquel what a hard charger Stark was. He didn’t work for this agency. He had become something of an unwelcome guest in Europe. His time here was running out. And yet, he sounded like he was issuing orders, or thought he was.
Miquel looked at Jan. Jan must have eyes in the back of his head, or perhaps he saw Miquel in the reflection of the computer screens.
“We should be able to find something,” he said.
“And if we do,” Miquel said to the telephone, “what do you plan to do with that information?”
“I’d like to pay the man a visit,” Stark said.