Infected

29: ☣Manhunt☣

DETECTIVE Collette Laflamme had been looking out the window of her office, getting a panoramic view of Geneva and had nearly forgotten about the existence of one Alex Brenton who was seated across the office.

"He's still in the country," started Brenton, getting the detective's attention.

"You know we can't be sure of that," Laflamme replied. "he could be anyone in the world right now."

"I'm telling you, Detective. Marconi's planning something. Otherwise he could've disappeared long before I made the jump on him."

At that, Laflamme turned to look at Brenton, her short auburn hair dancing above her shoulders as she did so. "You keep saying that but you literally have no idea what he's up to."

"Not entirely," Brenton said, resting his arms on Laflamme's desk, one of which had been bandaged just a few hours ago.

"What do you mean?" asked Laflamme.

"After I'd left to go on a lead, yesterday-"

"Of which you were entirely vague about."

"Again, sorry about that, " Brenton continued, "I was just getting into Marconi's office when Dr. Eisenhower got out. Remember I had a talk with him earlier."

"And he informed you that Dr. Minajri had been experimenting on bioweapons," Laflamme said, moving her head pointedly to where a large file containing lab records was currently lying.

"Yes. And now that I think about it, Marconi may already have begun his plan by talking to the lead scientist of the WHO."

"That brings up another question," countered Laflamme, "where is Dr. Eisenhower?"

"I can only think of one other place."

"But wait," Laflamme raised an index finger, "if the scientist is in cahoots with the assistant director who is now MIA, what makes you sure we'll even find him?"

"Given what's happening, Detective, I doubt he would try to run as it would only make him even more suspicious."

"I still feel we're wasting our time on this!" spat Laflamme, "it's Marconi we should be looking for!"

"And that's why you issued a manhunt," said Brenton, "that should keep Marconi busy while we get our hands on Dr. Eisenhower."

Having made up their minds, the two were on their way out before Laflamme stopped over at the interrogation room where Director Darius Shakir was still being held in police custody.

"By the look of your faces," he said, "I can tell you are yet to find my assistant."

"We're working on it," Laflamme replied with frustration. "You'll be back with your family as soon as this is over."

"Take your time," Shakir added, still maintaining his calm, "as long as my family is safe."

That last part was directed at Brenton, who had earlier informed the director of the WHO that his family was being taken care of at a safe house, following that not-so-subtle hint that the director had given him, relating to Hector Marconi being the mastermind behind Dr. Minjari's assassination.

Brenton was still yet to thank him. The director was still in custody and until they caught Marconi, nothing could be taken into assumption just yet.

"Sit tight," was what he ended up telling the director.

Laflamme had gotten into her Dodge Challenger SRT along with Brenton and the two were already on their way when Brenton noticed that something was troubling the detective since they left the precinct.

"You okay?"

Laflamme sighed, her eyes fixated on the road. "It's just how relaxed the director was back at the precinct. It reminded me of my. . .my father."

Brenton's eyes slightly widened. The uptight detective had never said anything about her family for the last three/four days they had been working together but then neither had Brenton, whose role had initially been lying to everyone's face.

"My father was a simple man," Laflamme went on, "ran a small business and one night, he was just closing up shop when some asshole, a junkie, ran into him. Several shots were fired and the junkie ran away but my father was not shot. The police found him at the scene, stopped him, asked him about the shootings and then it was when they searched him that they found a small stash of Percocet on him. . ."

Laflamme paused for a while and Brenton was sure he had spotted a tear but then it could just have been the reflection from the windshield.

"He told the police that the drugs weren't his-that they had been planted on him but the police didn't listen. Nobody did," Laflamme continued, "he got sent to prison and had barely served a week before he. . .before they found his body in his cell, his neck twisted and snapped."

Brenton was at a loss for words, seeing it fit to just remain that way.

"Today, I just saw the look on the director's face. The same look that my father gave me before they took him away and the next moment after that, I was already a cop. . ." Laflamme exhaled, then shook her head as if she had been entranced, "I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me, telling you all-"

"No, no," cut in Brenton, "something tells me you haven't opened up like that to anybody else?"

"What are you, the emotions police?" Laflamme scoffed then added, "damn, that was horrible!"

Brenton chuckled, grateful for the comic relief but could still catch the pain lodged deep in the detective's tone, "I'm really sorry."

Laflamme chose to ignore this, never having been the sentimental type and decided to double down on the topic. "What about you? Any family? Parents? Or does the CIA prevent you from sharing that kind of information?"

"Oh, I was an-" Brenton never got to give his side of the story as they had arrived at their destination.

"What the hell?" started Laflamme, pressing hard on the brakes, the car screeching wildly before coming to a halt.

Ahead of them, just a few yards away, was the World Health Organization building and what appeared to be an ensemble of men-armed men- about a dozen of them, gathered at the entrance.

Laflamme and Brenton then watched, much to their shock, as the armed men brandished their guns-semi-automatics-and instantly opened fire.

"Back up, Detective!" called Brenton, "Back up!"

Laflamme was already shifting the gear to reverse before she got another idea, one that did not please Brenton at all.

"What? What are you doing?" Brenton asked, all while bullets were coming their way. One of them even found the side mirror on Brenton's side, smashing it out of place.

The detective pressed on the gas, causing the car to lurch forward, its wheels screeching so incredibly that white clouds of smoke began to emanate from underneath.

Brenton found himself shouting as the car darted towards the armed crusade, receiving pellets of lead that would either get lodged into the bulletproof glass or bounce off and smash into other parts of the vehicle.

Upon noticing the unrelenting vehicle, the armed men started to clear out but only a little too late as Laflamme had the car ram into the front entrance, shattering glass and smashing its way into the lobby.

Luckily for both of them, Laflamme and Brenton had buckled up at the start of the journey. Now, they were in the middle of getting out of their straps when they began to catch sight of shadows of men armed with guns, yelling and rushing quickly towards them.