Hidden Tracks | ✓

06 | smell of smoke

Isabella Hill was as clean as one could get.

40 years old, no criminal records (not even a damn parking ticket), went to an English boarding school, skipped college and got married right after to her childhood sweetheart, said sweetheart died of cardiac arrest ten years later. They had no children and she didn't remarry. Now she had her own small business which was apparently enough to provide for her needs.

"How does she know Amélie Beaumont? I mean who's the common friend in PR she was talking about?" I asked Schiff from TIA's IT cell, who was currently giving me all the info on Ms Hill.

"She doesn't have any social media handles, so I haven't been able to track down many of her friends. But the guy she's talking about is Jean Gauthier- works in PR, and I found his contact after hacking into her cloud."

"And? Did you get any info on Gauthier?"

"Yes. Turns out Gauthier worked for Amélie Beaumont for 5 years before quitting a couple of months back."

I scrunched my brows. "Why did he quit?"

"I wasn't able to find out the reason. Tut mir leid, Agent Winter."

"Egal. Dankeschön, Schiff, I'll call you if I need more help."

I hung up and sighed. It seemed we were at a dead end, even though there were still some things which seemed fishy.

For example, Ms Hill said her common friend "works" at Beaumont, when said friend had actually quit a couple months back. Was it a slip of tongue on her part? Or was she unaware Gauthier had quit?

I came out of the study into the living room, to find Soler arranging his pistols on the table and checking the magazines. Miranda was speaking to someone over the phone in rapid-fire French.

Yes, growing up at TIA, we'd been trained not only in espionage and combat, but also in various languages. Each of us knew at least five to six languages fluently, while some knew even more.

I could fluently speak six languages and partly knew three more. Miranda probably knew more than me and I really hoped Soler didn't.

Miranda finally hung up and looked at us. "I was just speaking to one of my informants in Paris. She'll be on the lookout near the restaurant which Caldwell owned, where he and Amélie saw the drugs being smuggled. In case she can spot anything else suspicious going on over there."

I nodded. "Yeah, someone needs to keep a watch before we head to Paris."

"Speaking of," Soler piped up, "When are we planning to go to Paris? We haven't really found any substantial leads here."

Miranda seemed pensive. "It's entirely our call now, TIA won't help us with anything except providing resources. So I think we should check this house one last time, thoroughly, and if we still don't find anything, we'll go to our next stop- Paris."

"I have a couple of informants here in London, and I'd also asked them to keep a watch on Caldwell's London-based restaurants. I'll contact them to see if they've found any leads," I said.

The truth was, often TIA's resources weren't enough to give us the help we needed. As agents, the more experienced you got, the more contacts you had in as many countries as possible.

These contacts, in reality, were street urchins, homeless folks, and other people who knew every corner, every alley and every by-lane of the city they lived in. People who had become observant with experience. Not very unlike us agents.

So practically all agents had their own special contacts or informants who they could count on, whenever they needed help beyond TIA's capabilities. And I had a few of these people at my disposal in places like London, Zürich, Rome, Florence, Istanbul and Paris, to name a few.

Miranda nodded at my words. "Yes, contact them, Kaia, check if they've seen anything."

Soler stood up. "I'll resume inspection of the house. See if I can find anything else."

"Okay. Let's get to work."

°

22 hours later, we hadn't come across any new leads which could make us stay in London. So we'd decided to take the jet to Paris that afternoon.

I was busy pulling a grey sweatshirt over my head, when a shrill sound broke the silence of the room.

I looked at the bed where my TIA phone sat. It was ringing.

Isabella Hill.

My heart sped up involuntarily. I picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Dr Edwards?"

"Ms Hill? Is there anything you'd like to share?"

She took a deep breath. "Yes, actually. I just remembered a few things which had happened some time back. Then they'd seemed a bit strange, but I'd brushed them off. But now, considering the situation..."

"What happened, Ms Hill?"

"I-I don't think I can tell you over the phone. I would like to actually sit down with you and discuss everything. And I want to help you, help find Amélie."

"That's good to hear, Ms Hill. Where can we meet then?"

"Actually, I'm in Paris right now for a few days, to meet some friends. I just realised I don't know if you live in London, like me, or somewhere else."

Well, wasn't this just pure luck. She was in Paris. And we were about to fly to Paris in two hours.

I decided to play along. After all, I'd been faking a South London accent for Dr Edwards. "Actually, I'm from London too, but I shifted my practice to Paris around two years ago. And Amélie was one of my first clients here"-- I pretended to sound like I was about to tear up-- "so yes, Ms Hill, I'm glad you're in this city right now. When and where will you be free to meet?"

"Does tomorrow at 11 am sound good to you? We could meet at Café de la Croix, in Rue Lamarck. Are you familiar with the place?"

"Ah, I haven't been to Café de la Croix in a long time. I'll meet you there, Ms Hill. 11 sounds good."

"Great!" she sounded relieved. "Now that we've decided on a time and place, we can discuss the details and everything I remember about those incidents. I'll try to help as much as I can, Dr Edwards. I can see how much you care about her and how eager you are to find her."

I smiled. "Amélie's like a sister to me. Thank you for helping me, Ms Hill. I'll see you tomorrow."

Café de la Croix, Rue Lamarck, sharp at 11.

It was time to see what Isabella Hill had to offer.

a/n: we're headed in a new direction now! who's excited for paris?