Infected

21: ☣Exposed☣

BACK in Switzerland, Director Darius Shakir of the WHO had been at home with his family when he had received an anonymous phone call.

Given what was being said in the call, Shakir found it rather asinine, calling out the caller for trying to pull a prank on him but then everything started to get unnervingly serious, beginning with the arrival of the police on his front lawn.

"To what do I owe the pleasure," Shakir began as he met with Detective Colette Laflamme at the door.

Taking off her sunglasses, Laflamme responded, "Your arrest, Director."

"What?" Shakir gasped, momentarily looking down at the phone he had just interacted with only seconds ago.

"You are hereby under arrest for conspiracy of murder," the detective said as another officer appeared, cuffing the director's hands.

"You have the right to remain silent," the officer said before rushing the director away into the back of a cop car, "anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you can't afford one, one will be provided for you."

Laflamme was heading back into her own car when someone called from behind. She turned and found a woman and two children standing at the mansion's porch.

"Where are you taking papa?" one of the children, the girl, asked.

Sighing, Laflamme approached the family, sitting on her haunches so that she was level with the girl whom she discovered was a twin to her brother.

"Papa's got a few questions he needs to answer for us," Laflamme said, adding a smile.

"Come on," the mother spoke, "back inside."

"Whatever it is you think he has done," said the mother to the detective, "I can assure you that my husband is one of the few good people in this world."

Laflamme did not respond to that but returned only as much as a slight nod of farewell before turning and heading back into her car.

Alex Brenton walked into the interrogation room at the precinct to find Laflamme and the director already settled.

"Sorry I'm late. Traffic," Brenton said, straightening his suit before taking a seat next to the detective.

"Not at all," said Laflamme, "you've met Dr. Avery Lincoln before, Director."

"Of course," Shakir responded, his grey eyes probing Brenton from across the table.

"Alright," Laflamme went on, "now that we've all been acquainted, let's get down to business. You know why you're here, Director, right?"

There was a long awkward pause brought about by the director's silence. He had his eyes looking down at the polished table that reflected back the white light coming from the fluorescent tube at the ceiling. There were a lot of things he could have said at that particular moment.

"Director?" Laflamme called.

"What?" Shakir snapped back to the present, "come again?"

"You understand the reason for your arrest?"

Shakir leaned back in his seat with a sigh, saying, "I suppose it's hardly ever easy to do things in silence nowadays."

Brenton's right eyebrow arched, getting caught slightly off guard. "Not even going to put up some resistance?"

Shakir gave out a dry laugh as if he had just heard the punchline to a bitter joke. "What is the point of that, Doctor? I mean, it would only lead down to me wanting a lawyer and after that more publicity that will ruin my family and my name; as if that hasn't been damaged enough."