CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
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
