window—ten, maybe fifteen minutes?”
Ingrid pulled a face. She wasn’t one for telling tales, but she couldn’t just let it go.
“What is it?” Mbeke pressed the down button with a knuckle.
“I’d say closer to twenty minutes, maybe a half hour. I had to do a lot of persuading to get the restroom sealed.”
“Do you remember seeing anyone going in or out?”
“I didn’t have my eye on the door all the time. I was a little busy fighting with the police constable.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”
“It’s OK, I can find out without you telling me.”
The elevator arrived. Ingrid glanced up and down the corridor, looking for CCTV cameras. “Is there footage some place of the corridor on the trading floor?”
“I’ve got a DC with security right now running through all the footage for yesterday morning. There’s nothing for the exterior or interior of the toilets.” He stepped into the elevator and Ingrid followed him. “But there are cameras in all the lifts.” He pointed toward the shiny black hemisphere attached to the center of the ceiling of the elevator. “And the reception area and all the exits have good coverage.” He punched the button labeled ‘LG’. “Let’s go and see what they’ve uncovered so far, shall we?”
The elevator doors seemed to take an age to close.
“If the toxic agent that killed Fuller and put the hand drier engineer in the hospital was in the soap,” Mbeke said, “that blows your theory about Fuller being targeted specifically. Unless you’ve heard something from Witness Protection?”
“Still waiting for them to get back to me.” Ingrid hated having to admit she didn’t have the necessary intel. As soon as she got back to the embassy she’d insist Sol Franklin contact the US Marshals Service.
“So there’s just as much chance that the hand drier man was the intended target. But still more likely that Fisher Krupps has been targeted in general.”
“The maintenance engineer is still alive. Fuller’s dead.”
“That makes him unlucky, not a target.”
The elevator doors opened and two smart suited young men stepped in. Ingrid made sure to drop her voice. “If it was the soap, then we have to assume the toxin was absorbed through the skin. Maybe that might speed up the process of identifying it.”
“We’ll hopefully find out more after the autopsy.” Mbeke looked at the two men, obviously uncomfortable about discussing the case. He remained silent until the elevator doors opened again and they exited. “If it was in the soap, anyone could have been affected. Surely there would have been more casualties.”
“Maybe not.” Ingrid braced herself to ask an awkward question. “Tell me—and I really need you to answer honestly—do you wash your hands, with soap and all, every time you use the bathroom?”
Mbeke shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Maybe not every time.”
“Wennstein complained about tingling in his fingers after he went for a crap. I’m supposing he washed his hands. The maintenance guy would have gotten pretty dirty hands pulling apart a hand drier and reassembling it, so he must have used plenty of soap to clean up afterward.”
“And Fuller? What possible reason would he have for being so meticulous about his hand hygiene?”
“That I haven’t worked out yet.”
“So either the hand drier engineer was the intended victim, or Fisher Krupps was targeted.”
“Why remove the soap if someone wanted to do as much damage as possible?” Ingrid felt as if they were chasing around in circles, getting nowhere. “I guess you should look into the background of the maintenance guy. I feel bad calling him that all the time, what’s his name?”
“Colin Stewart.”
“So—a full profile of Stewart might help.”
“I’ll get one of the DCs onto it.”
The elevator finally reached the lower ground floor. Ingrid followed Mbeke down a maze of corridors to a dimly lit
Ingrid pulled a face. She wasn’t one for telling tales, but she couldn’t just let it go.
“What is it?” Mbeke pressed the down button with a knuckle.
“I’d say closer to twenty minutes, maybe a half hour. I had to do a lot of persuading to get the restroom sealed.”
“Do you remember seeing anyone going in or out?”
“I didn’t have my eye on the door all the time. I was a little busy fighting with the police constable.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”
“It’s OK, I can find out without you telling me.”
The elevator arrived. Ingrid glanced up and down the corridor, looking for CCTV cameras. “Is there footage some place of the corridor on the trading floor?”
“I’ve got a DC with security right now running through all the footage for yesterday morning. There’s nothing for the exterior or interior of the toilets.” He stepped into the elevator and Ingrid followed him. “But there are cameras in all the lifts.” He pointed toward the shiny black hemisphere attached to the center of the ceiling of the elevator. “And the reception area and all the exits have good coverage.” He punched the button labeled ‘LG’. “Let’s go and see what they’ve uncovered so far, shall we?”
The elevator doors seemed to take an age to close.
“If the toxic agent that killed Fuller and put the hand drier engineer in the hospital was in the soap,” Mbeke said, “that blows your theory about Fuller being targeted specifically. Unless you’ve heard something from Witness Protection?”
“Still waiting for them to get back to me.” Ingrid hated having to admit she didn’t have the necessary intel. As soon as she got back to the embassy she’d insist Sol Franklin contact the US Marshals Service.
“So there’s just as much chance that the hand drier man was the intended target. But still more likely that Fisher Krupps has been targeted in general.”
“The maintenance engineer is still alive. Fuller’s dead.”
“That makes him unlucky, not a target.”
The elevator doors opened and two smart suited young men stepped in. Ingrid made sure to drop her voice. “If it was the soap, then we have to assume the toxin was absorbed through the skin. Maybe that might speed up the process of identifying it.”
“We’ll hopefully find out more after the autopsy.” Mbeke looked at the two men, obviously uncomfortable about discussing the case. He remained silent until the elevator doors opened again and they exited. “If it was in the soap, anyone could have been affected. Surely there would have been more casualties.”
“Maybe not.” Ingrid braced herself to ask an awkward question. “Tell me—and I really need you to answer honestly—do you wash your hands, with soap and all, every time you use the bathroom?”
Mbeke shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Maybe not every time.”
“Wennstein complained about tingling in his fingers after he went for a crap. I’m supposing he washed his hands. The maintenance guy would have gotten pretty dirty hands pulling apart a hand drier and reassembling it, so he must have used plenty of soap to clean up afterward.”
“And Fuller? What possible reason would he have for being so meticulous about his hand hygiene?”
“That I haven’t worked out yet.”
“So either the hand drier engineer was the intended victim, or Fisher Krupps was targeted.”
“Why remove the soap if someone wanted to do as much damage as possible?” Ingrid felt as if they were chasing around in circles, getting nowhere. “I guess you should look into the background of the maintenance guy. I feel bad calling him that all the time, what’s his name?”
“Colin Stewart.”
“So—a full profile of Stewart might help.”
“I’ll get one of the DCs onto it.”
The elevator finally reached the lower ground floor. Ingrid followed Mbeke down a maze of corridors to a dimly lit
Similar Books
