CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Everett, Washington D. C.

2205 hours.

27th April.

Thomas Lang drained the last remnants of his glass, weighing the idea of retiring to the solace of his hotel room.

The ambiance of the dimly lit bar barely masked the fatigue swirling within him. Just as he was about to make his move, his device stirred, its insistent buzz demanding his attention. Curiosity piqued, he promptly engaged the line, allowing his voice to resonate through the air with a measured intensity: 'Hello. '

It was Carles

'There's been another gruesome murder at St Catherine's Hospital. '

Thomas was flustered: 'What? '

'Where's Agent Tony? '

'The hotel, I guess, ' Thomas was reaching for a cigarette.

'Get him and hop down there, there's a killer on the prowl. ' Carles said, an extreme show of concern evident in his voice.

Thomas lit the cigarette and responded between exhaled fumes: 'Okay boss. '

With a swift motion, Carles terminated the connection on his end, severing the virtual thread that had bound him