Chapter 9 - THE RIGA LINK
"Detective, don't let him into that room," Lily said, her voice piercing the quiet hospital corridor like a blade.
Dr. Vance stopped, turning his gold-rimmed spectacles toward Lily. A small, polite smile touched the corners of his thin lips.
"Ah, Mrs. Vane," Vance said, offering a slight, elegant bow of his head. "It has been many years. You look remarkably like your father when he was backed into a corner."
Detective Berg looked at Vance’s official directive paper, then back at Lily, her instincts as a senior investigator instantly overriding the bureaucratic authority of the document. She stepped directly between Vance and the door to Room 408, her hand firmly resting on her sidearm.
"Dr. Vance, this is an active crime scene under the jurisdiction of the Oslo Police Department," Berg said coldly. "No one enters that room until my forensic team completes the secondary screen."
"I'm afraid your jurisdiction ended fifteen minutes ago, Detective," Vance replied smoothly. He reached into his leather briefcase, pulled out a second document stamped with the heavy red seal of the Norwegian Prime Minister's office, and handed it to her. "James Reed is not merely a domestic suspect in a domestic dispute. He is a primary material witness in a high-level state espionage investigation. My team is transferring him to a secure facility in Bærum immediately."
Behind the glass window of Room 408, two male orderlies in navy blue scrubs—men with broad shoulders and the disciplined posture of military operatives—were already disconnecting James from the hospital monitoring equipment, wheeling his gurney toward the rear service elevator exit.
"Marcus," Lily whispered, leaning close to Marcus’s shoulder. "The briefcase."
Marcus didn't ask questions. He understood instantly.
As Vance stepped past Detective Berg toward the room, Marcus deliberately stumbled forward, his large frame slamming into Vance’s side. The collision knocked the silver-haired man off balance, sending his leather briefcase crashing onto the floor.
The brass clasps popped open, spilling thick stacks of paper, three encrypted satellite phones, and a small silver cylinder across the linoleum tiles.
Detective Berg’s eyes locked onto the silver cylinder—it was identical to the organophosphate ampoule she held in her evidence bag.
"Nobody move!" Berg shouted, unholstering her pistol and aiming it straight at Vance’s chest. "On the floor! Right now!"
Vance didn't panic. His polite smile vanished, replaced by an expression of cold, professional annoyance.
He didn't drop to the floor. Instead, he made a brief, sharp gesture with his left hand toward the two orderlies inside Room 408.
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The orderlies pulled two silenced pistols from beneath their navy scrubs and fired three rapid rounds directly into the glass window of the room.
The heavy glass shattered outward with a deafening crash, showering the corridor with sharp shards.
