The Bitter Truth

3

Richard walked inside of the office to the lot where they had impounded the Winterfield Target's vehicle and approached the front counter. The Impound Clerk was facing a television mounted on top of a file cabinet and he was watching BBC World News. As the picture came into focus on the top set, they saw a Reporter standing in front of a building in which an apartment room was ablaze. Fire fighters worked to contain the blaze.

Richard threw his car keys on top of the counter and the Impound Clerk turned around.

"Good morning Sir." He said while pressing the power button on the remote controller and turned the television off.

Richard showed the Impound Clerk his National Identity Card. He was wearing a black nylon warm—up, with a Secret Service pin on the left collar. He was clean-shaven, and his hair had been cut very short, and was neatly combed. The Impound Clerk saw the telltale earphone of the secret service in his right ear.

"I am Agent Maxwell, and I'm with the Secret Service."

The Impound Clerk nodded. "How may I help you?"

"I am searching for a Unit. The Police reports are showing that there was a unit impounded to this location."

"May I have the Vehicle Identification Number please?"

Richard handed him a folded piece of paper. The Impound Clerk unfolded it and typed on his computer. 1-C-1- 0-7-5-7-8

He wrote where the Unit was located on a post in note and walked around the counter.

"This way please."

The Vehicle was a C300 Black Mercedes Benz. They walked on top of gravel road and approached the vehicle from the rear. Richard read the license plate number, saw the Diplomatic Seal and suddenly found himself reeling back to yesterday...The target rushed down the steps while touching the banisters for balance. Sweat dripped from her forehead and as she heard the sound of the metropolitan area coming to life, she felt a bit relieved. Everything was in her favor—it was dark outside, she had a get—away vehicle and pedestrians strolling downtown...

"I heard the victim was young and full of life." The Impound Clerk spoke while looking at Richard.

He furrowed his brows in concentration and started walking towards the right front side of the vehicle.

"Which intersection did the accident occur?" Richard asked while looking at him.

Richard already knew everything about the accident that had happened the night before. Not only was he there, but he read the police reports. What he wanted to know, was how much he knew about the victim and if he really knew who she was.

"According to the log inside of the tow truck it happened at Piccadilly Circus."

Piccadilly Circus...Richard recalled seeing the Piccadilly Circus Square on a map while he was sitting behind a table at his apartment house...Piccadilly Circus Square was located at New Bond Street.

That Downtown location was filled with theaters, restaurants, and night clubs. He remembered that the sidewalk and the asphalt were wet from the rain. Lights from an advertisement display brightened his surroundings.

"What time did the Cooperating Witness made the call to report the accident?"

"The Cooperating Witness called for help around 9:18 P.M."

9:18 P.M...

Eighteen Minutes...

Richard fell silent as he thought of where he was at that time.

"The M.E. Report stated that she was already dead prior

to the crash." The Impound Clerk continued. "Poison gas was the cause of death."

Richard walked around through the front of the Mercedes while reaching inside of his left front pocket and pulling out a pair of latex gloves.

"I haven't seen the Autopsy report yet." He replied while sliding his hands inside the latex gloves. "However, if she was targeted for elimination then asphyxiation could have been a method they used. Since this vehicle was capable of generating an independent air supply, they could have fouled with the air supply tanks."

The clouds reflected on the shiny hood. The windows were heavily tinted. He approached the left rear door and reached for the door handle. The left rear side of the car was damaged and the door opened with a squeak. Richard observed that there was a sheet of paper on top of the dashboard that read: Investigative Hold.

"I spoke with the Agent in charge of the investigation last night and she said this government vehicle is equipped with eight-inch-thick-armor-plated doors and bullet proof windows. It also contains night vision cameras, reinforced tires and G.P.S." The Impound Clerk shook his head. Richard continued listening while opening the door and peering inside. "She was in the companion of two American Secret Service Agents...They were both assassinated."

The interior of the Mercedes smelled new. Shattered glass fell on the rear seat. He visualized the Target's body slumped to the right, her head resting against the armrest. Above her head, fresh blood smeared the window. In a paradox of self-awareness, he fought the images of how the accident occurred...They were approaching the intersection. As she continued to look back, the beam from the headlights of the car behind shined her face. Her brows were raised, her hair was damp. He heard her sigh in relief. The rear window started to fog over. As she turned around, she looked ahead and caught through her left peripheral vision, an object approaching at a fast rate of speed. There came a violent push to the side of the Mercedes, immediately followed by the sound of tearing and crushing of metal. Her body whiplashed—hitting her head against the window. The Mercedes spun at the intersection while squealing its tires.

Back to the present, he lifted the floor matt searching for clues.

Every contingency had been planned. The American Government promised that she was safe.

They said that everyone involved was safe.

Now she is dead!

There must be a hint...a clue...as to how she was found...

She was a woman who loved anything with multiple layer of meaning... She must have left something...somewhere.

He leaned over the rear seat and reached under the front passenger seat.

Nothing here.

He moved back and swept his hands on the floorboard under the driver seat. Wearing latex gloves, he brushed against something cold. He grabbed it and pulled towards him.

Straightening, he lifted the object to his face and studied it. It was smeared with blood.

"What is that?" The Impound Clerk asked while staring at it over the roofline of the Mercedes. He was standing at the other side.

"It's a necklace..." Richard replied. "...With the medallion of the Lincoln Memorial."