Licensed to Kill

Chapter 14

After a brief dispute with more security guards over whether or not we could wear our side arms into the prison, Dallas convinced them that, being government officials who outranked prison security, we could basically do whatever the hell we wanted. We were still subjected to a minimal screening, but that seemed to go smoothly; thank goodness.

Once they were finished searching us, I pulled out the picture of Diana Lindsey for the guards to look at. We asked them if they remembered seeing the woman in the photo, and two of the men nodded, but provided no further details about her visit.

Dallas asked to review the prison's visitor records, which seemed to strike a nerve with one of the guards. A man in his mid-thirties with a thin build and eyes the color of charcoal, just like his hair. He wore his uniform too tight, stood up painfully straight, and had a look of disgust on his face, presumably repulsed by our presence. It seemed that prison guards didn't take too kindly to federal agents intruding and interfering with their workday. At least, that was the impression I got from them.

But I noticed that the man had been observing us – me, especially – in the most meticulous way since we'd entered the main building. He seemed to study every move I made, like a lion waiting to pounce on its prey. He acted like he recognized me from somewhere, but I couldn't remember ever having seen him before. It had been a long time since I'd been to Germany, and I didn't recall seeing any prison guards on my last trip. This was my first time to Brandenburg, anyway. Where could we have crossed paths before? If we had, it had to have been in another country.

Maybe it was the high stress and lack of sleep talking, but my suspicious mind started wandering to obscure scenarios, debating the possibility that he could've been one of the armed men who chased me out of the hotel. I'd never gotten a good look at any of their faces. Did he know the man who had followed me the day before? Or maybe it was all in my head. Maybe he didn't have any ill intentions at all. Perhaps I just looked like someone else he knew. Or it could be that feds made him nervous. There'd been plenty of times when people had stared a hole through me just because I was an agent. Maybe that's all this was.

I continued to watch the man out of the corner of my eye while Dallas carried on a conversation with the head security guard who had just retrieved the visitor history for us.

Dallas flipped through the logbook to find the approximate date that Agent Lindsey had been to the prison, and held it out for me to look at. He pointed to the only woman's name on the list in the last several months.

Camilla Dietrich had visited the prison at eleven o'clock on February 17th. Below her name was a notation stating that she was with the Bundesnachrichtendienst, and that the reason for her visit was to obtain custody of a prisoner.

Dallas and I shared a disbelieving look. Had Diana Lindsey used fake credentials to get into the prison like we had? Was she Camilla Dietrich?

"Wer war dieser gefangene?" Dallas asked the lead guard who the prisoner was that she'd visited.

At first, the man told us that he was not at liberty to discuss that information. But then Dallas reminded him of his position on the totem pole, and the guard reluctantly explained that Camilla Dietrich had taken custody of one male prisoner due to a deal that the German feds had struck up with him. According to Ms. Dietrich, this man was going to complete the remainder of his sentence as a communications asset to the Bundesnachrichtendienst, assisting in the capture of other major players in the European drug hierarchy. The man's name was Enrique Bellucci.

My brows shot up so far, my forehead hurt. Realization hit me like a ton of bricks that the prisoner was the same drug lord from that fateful night in Washington, D.C.