Licensed to Kill

Chapter 6

Meanwhile, I was walking out of the airport in Berlin, doing my best to blend in with the locals as I made my way toward the general location of the first noted cell tower ping of Agent Lindsey's phone. It wasn't too far from the airport.

As I walked, I tried to put myself in Diana Lindsey's shoes. Where would she be going once she got off the plane? Why would she be going there? Who might she be visiting? With the cell tower ping not giving me much to go on, guessing where she'd actually gone was going to be like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

Not too much later, I reached the general area of the first ping. I stood on a street corner, eyes scanning over the buildings near the intersection. There were two coffee shops, a tailor, a printing company, a small grocer, and a hotel that had obviously seen better days. I'd never met Agent Lindsey, so I didn't have an idea of the type of agent she was, but I knew that if I was in her position, I would've either gone to a coffee shop or a hotel, assuming I had someone to meet. That narrowed it down to three options – if I was in the right area, that is.

I pulled out the phone Alana had given me to see what time Lindsey's plane had landed in Berlin. During the flight over from Paris, I'd used some of the time to make notes about the case in my phone so I wouldn't have to pull out the file folder every time I needed to look at something.

Air France flight 1334 departed Charles De Gaulle at 8:10AM and landed at TXL at 9:55AM.

The fact that she arrived in Berlin in the morning gave the impression that her first stop would not be a hotel. Anyone else would assume she'd have gone to one of the two coffee shops, but then that's what I would want everyone to think, too, if I were Agent Lindsey.

I kept my face hidden with my hat as I tried to disappear into the crowded sidewalks. Luckily, there were a fair amount of other people carrying backpacks, but I was the only one with a large black bag at my side, too. If a city camera caught me, A.R.T. would likely be able to spot me.

I reached the next street corner and entered the hotel. It resembled the roach-infested Super 8's I often saw near truck stops back in the States.

I slapped my hand over the bell on the front desk and a man approximately forty-five with scrutinizing eyes and a bad excuse for a goatee emerged from a back office. It almost looked like he was glaring at me, and I immediately knew my presence was unwelcome.

"Was willst du?" he grumbled, his accent thick and sharp as he asked me what I wanted.

I wasn't in the mood to try to remember my German for this conversation.

"Sprichst du Englisch?" I asked, using my fake Spanish accent.

His eyes narrowed and his glare seemed to intensify. He waited a moment and then spoke again.

"You... foreigner?"

The man eyed me in a way that made my skin crawl.

I pulled out a small photo of Diana Lindsey and held it up for him to see. "Have you seen this woman? She was here about three months ago."

He took the photo from me and glared at Lindsey's face the same way he'd been glaring at me, but something shifted in his expression. Was it worry? A tiny jolt of panic?

He recognized her. He knew something. I could tell by his body language.

"Nein!" he said suddenly and tossed the photo back at me, waving me off and avoiding looking me in the eyes.

"When did you last see her?" I prompted. "Was she with anyone?"

"Verlassen!" he shouted for me to leave the hotel. "Geh raus!"