Under Cover

Chapter 12

       Michael, propped up by pillows in his hospital bed, listened to the news he knew was coming.

His captain Martin Johnson paced the room. "I'm sorry for your injuries, Michael, but at least it's only a minor concussion. We're trying to keep a lid on this from the media. If they find out it will be circus with you right in the middle, and me too. But what I can't understand is how you managed to be married to an international assassin for twelve months without realising there was anything unusual about her. How much information did you tell your wife about the case you were working on? The case to find and arrest her for God's sake?"

He stopped pacing and glared at Michael who dejectedly thought about how he had told Hannah about almost all his plans for tracking the killer, except for last night. That had been a last minute decision by himself to check on Niles Jefferson, but as it turned out he had been about three minutes too late. He opened his mouth to speak but Johnson cut him off.

"The Commissioner is already calling for an internal investigation and for your resignation, or I could put you on leave without pay until the investigation is over. Which is it to be, Michael?"

"I'll send you my resignation tomorrow when I get out of hospital," Michael muttered. Then he suddenly looked up. "Wait a minute, Martin. Did you say international assassin?"

"Yes I did. I've had a call from the FBI. They're taking over the case. They're reasonably certain that your wife was operating in Los Angeles for at least a year before she came here."

Michael got out of the taxi and walked slowly to the front door of his house. He felt tired and his head ached. He let himself in, almost calling out from habit to his wife to let her know he was home. But the house was quiet and empty. Hannah was not there of course. He checked the bedroom. Her clothes and all her personal things were there as if she would be walking in the door at any minute. She was gone. It would be too hot for her to remain here in this city. She was probably out of the country by now.

He made a cup of coffee and sat on the couch wondering how he had been living with a killer for over twelve months without anything raising his suspicions, after all he was a police detective for God's sake. Hannah had been a brilliant actor pretending she loved him, but it had all been a lie. She was using him to get information on the police investigation to find her. And all those nights when she said she was working late at the travel agency she was either out killing someone or conducting surveillance on her next victim.

There was a knock at the door. Two men in suits waved their id's at Michael.

"FBI special agents Carmichael and Rogers," one of them said briskly. Then he handed Michael a search warrant. "We'd like to talk to you while our agents conduct the search." He said.

While four agents started searching every room in the house, Carmichael and Rogers sat down with Michael at the dining table.

"Mr Richards we believe your wife has probably left Vancouver," Rogers said, "Do you have any idea where she might have gone?"

Michael shook his head, "No idea," he said, "And even though you probably don't believe me, I also had no idea she was the assassin. She had me completely fooled. And you won't find anything of interest in your search. I'm sure she's left nothing here which will help you find her."

"I see," Carmichael said, "I suppose your captain mentioned to you that we believe your wife started her 'career' at least three years ago in Los Angeles.

Michael nodded.

"She used the same M.O. there. A single 0.22 calibre bullet to the head. There were six victims in LA that we know of."

"I don't suppose you found out who she was working for?" Michael asked, "Or was she freelance?"

"We have intel which suggests she wasn't freelance, but working for some shadowy group known as 'The Organization'. She also had a code name."

"Which was?" Michael prompted him.

"Her code name was 'Orchid'."

Michael stared down at the table, "She always did like flowers." He suddenly looked up at the agent. "Miami," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"I remember Hannah saying on more than one occasion that she would love to move to Miami to be near the beach. She loved the warm weather. We had our honeymoon there. Agent Carmichael, she may have gone to Miami."