When the director of security received the phone call at the early hour of four-thirty that morning, he had been more than willing to fire the poor soul who disturbed his treasured few hours of sleep. However, when the young Interpol agent informed him of why he called at the early time, sleep quickly became the last thing on his mind.

The older man dressed himself and arrived at the covert detention center on the outskirts of Copenhagen in record time. The security team who allowed him inside the premises appeared a bit shaken and worse for wear if one looked closely enough. The explosion in the old district they had been earlier, playing a definite part in their beaten appearances. The director couldn’t bring himself to be surprised, knowing who they held inside their walls.

It was all a result of chance, he considered as he strode down the damp, grey concrete corridors at a near jog. If their new prisoner’s extraction team had been on time, the Danish authorities would never have captured one of the most wanted men in the world. If the old roof hadn’t caved in overtop of the elusive ghost of a man, weakening him enough to be subdued by a trained entry team, no call would have been made to the director.

There had been so many moving components and mechanisms in the man’s capture that even the most skilled analyst would have had difficulty keeping up. Jurisdiction between the Americas and the UK would prove to be a nightmare when they began fighting over the prisoner’s extradition inevitably. The added complexity of the newest blacklisted prisoner caused a headache to pierce between his eyes. The ingrained lines in his forehead gave him a most severe expression, which- he assumed- was the reason why the guards gave him such a wide berth.

His assistant met him at the end of the hall. Clark Everett was a tall man, no younger than the director’s oldest son, but the solemn expression the younger man wore caused him to age a decade. The director wouldn’t allow himself to consider how haggardly he must have appeared to his employee. Clark fell into step with the director as they descended down an iron staircase.

“He hasn’t said a word since we brought him here an hour ago,” Clark began. “Not even when the doctors examined him and stitched up the gash on his side caused by the ceiling collapsing.” He paused for a moment, his lips pressing together firmly. “All without anesthetic, I might add,”

Clark handed the director the file folder he had hurriedly compiled before his employer’s arrival. The other man immediately began flipping through the pages, briefly skimming over the doctor’s findings.

Extensive scar tissues covers fifty-five percent of the patient’s body from unknown previous injuries while he also suffers from a moderate concussion, several contusions and deep lacerations, three cracked ribs. The director quirked a brow at the ever growing list. He snapped the file shut while thinking it was a miracle the prisoner wasn’t dead. Although, he had his suspicions that there were more than a few in the brass that wished the building collapse or the explosion had killed the abominable man.

The two men stopped in front of a sliding door plated with bulletproof plexiglass. The director slid the folder underneath his arm, fishing for his access card. He paused before he slid the plastic slate through the scanner. “Are you certain it’s him?” The director asked.

Clark nodded, tossing his black-rimmed glasses into his breast pocket. “There’s no way it could possibly be anyone else. What little data trails connect to him being in Denmark this week,” He replied. “All fragmented DNA samples match the blood samples we collected an hour ago,”

The director sighed. “Fingerprints?” He asked as he quickly typed in his access code and gave his own fingerprint to be allowed through the door.

“None on record to compare them to,” Clark answered, wiping his forehead.

The director grumbled under his breath, obviously displeased. “This is a nightmare,” He said, walking through the doorway into the hidden observation platform above the cage. The director tossed the file onto one of the control tables, a blurred photograph of the man in question sliding out. He ran a hand through his silver hair before he quickly strode to the observation mirror which covered most of the opposite wall of the oblong shaped room. Clark followed closely behind, shrewdly scrutinizing the older man whose eyes were trained on the prisoner pacing the length of the cage that contained him. Hesitantly, Clark laid his hand on the director’s shoulder.  

“A lot of people can stop running now that Ezra Rossen is,” He tilted his head to the open cell below. “down there,”

“Perhaps,” The director conceded after a moment, but his tone remained unconvinced. “But this is far from over, Mr. Everett.” Cold eyes widened when the prisoner’s gaze snapped to his own, a wide cheshire grin spreading over the expanse of his bruised features. A chill traveled down his spine while he convinced himself that it was impossible for anyone to see through the glass. He cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away and shoving his hands in his pockets. He ignored the way Clark looked at him. “It’s never over with someone like Rossen. I wonder if he’s even human at times,”

The two stood in silence for a long moment while the security team around them continued to work voraciously. “The Americans claimed jurisdiction even though Rossen is a British national, legally,” Clark said, quietly. “What will you have me do?”

His employee’s question served as the catalyst to force him to move again. “Er-yes,..right,” He began, a certain amount of nervous energy pulsing through his chest and numbing his limbs. “Connect the Americas and the Brits with our embassy. Let them fight it out,” He instructed, moving in the direction of the steel elevator. “Get me a burner phone,” He ordered, mashing one of the two buttons on the wall. He placed his hands on his hips. “Let’s give this monster his due process,”

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Hi, guys! Hope you like this short story I've started on! And also sorry for the cliffhanger 😈😈 (Hehe. No, I'm not) I should have the next chapter up by tomorrow. :-)

Xoxo,
Adeline