It was ten to six when Trish made it to the piece of the Berlin Wall at the UN building. She didn’t know what she was there to do; they already had cameras on the place in the hope of catching a picture of the killer. But Brena had sent her anyway. An agent called Mark Dutton had gone to Ripley’s to do the same. Dutton was a new agent fresh from the farm. He was a tall, thin-looking guy in his mid-twenties. A crew cut shaped his soot-black hair. He was green but a quick learner and capable, from what Stanton had seen.
Their orders were simple: observe and report. A simple task for sure, but if anything stupid was done, if this killer were that smart, he would be able to spot an agent a mile off. That’s when it hit her; they were there to mess things up. It all made sense now. The operatio
