Chapter 3 – More Questions

The next day I woke up bright and early, anxious to get on to my appointment. As soon as I had arrived home last night I called the number the Captain gave me, not even caring what ungodly hour it was. A man with a distinct British accent answered, appearing neither surprised nor angered at being called so late in the night. He was patient and listened to my story and very politely told me that even though he couldn't talk about the murder on phone he would like to meet me in a coffee shop near my house to discuss it.

So I put some old jeans and a warm sweater, grabbed my jacket and went to his encounter. I choose a table in the far back of the shop as he instructed me to and ordered myself a mocha. Five minutes passed and a man sat on the chair across my table. He looked remarkably like a High School librarian with his framed glasses and tweed jacket.

"Doctor Maclay?" it was the same British accent from last night.

I nodded, shaking his extended hand.

"My name is Agent Rupert Giles, I work for the Interpol."

I felt my eyes widen. "Interpol?"

"Precisely." He adjusted his glasses. "It seems that you bore witness to a rather unsavory act."

"A murder." I clarified, tired of the whole beating around the bush thing.

"Not exactly, doctor."

"What?" I said incredulously. "What do you mean, 'not exactly'? That kid put a bullet on a innocent man's head, where I come from that's called a murder."

"That 'kid', doctor Maclay, is not a child at all, she's twenty years old. And that innocent man, as you put it, was wanted for several accounts of murder, rape and child abuse."

"Oh." I said intelligently, my brain not quite done processing all that the Englishman said. "But… But… Shouldn't he had been given a trial or something?"

"In my opinion, yes, but sadly I have no control over Ms. Rosenberg's actions."

Well, at least now I had a name to go with the face. "She's an American agent then?"

"No, doctor, I'm afraid she's not under any government's orders."

That startled me. She was acting on her on? I frowned. "Shouldn't she be arrested then?"

To my surprise he just chuckled. "We tried, doctor, we really did. She's been arrested several times by the Interpol and also by the CIA, but no one seems to be able to keep her."

"What do you mean?"

"She always disappears by the next day. We tried everything from chains to the most advanced security technology can offer, but she escapes each and every time. She leaves no trace, none of the guards can ever remember what happened, it's a mystery."

"So you just… let her do whatever she wants?"

"We don't have much choice per se, but plainly stating, yes. She kills only criminals of the worst kind, you see. When we questioned her she said it was her mission on Earth."

By then I was gaping at him rather unattractively I'm sure. "How long has this been going on?"

"Years. She travels all over the world killing terrorists, murderers, rapists, always using the same method: a single bullet on the center of the forehead. Some of you American agents, I believe, have taken to calling her 'Headshot Red'." He said with obvious disgust, whether it was for the nickname or the agents themselves I couldn't tell.

"So no one does a thing about it?"

He looked at me in the eye and I suddenly felt like a petulant child. "No one can do anything, doctor, that was plain from the start. So we just made a deal with her to avoid further problems."

"What kind of deal?" I asked uneasily, I had a bad feeling about this.

"She tells us where she is and who are her targets and we leave her alone and out of papers."

"WHAT!" I shouted, attracting the attention of most of the other costumers. Blushing, I waved then off and lowered my voice. "I can't believe it!"

"We don't want to cause unnecessary panic." He said tolerantly.

"Unnecessary!" I hissed.

"She isn't a threat to innocent bystanders."

"What happens when there are no more criminals to kill? I won't be surprised if we end up with a mass murderer in our hands!" I seethed, angry with his lack of care for all those lost lives.

He smiled at me ruefully. "I once asked her that same question?"

"And what was her answer?" I was curious despite myself.

"She said 'Then I'll thank the Lord for my trial will finally be over'."

I was speechless, what one could say to that?

"Doctor Maclay, I appreciate your concern but it would be best if you refrained from commenting this with anyone."

I shook my head, struggling with my words. "I can't do that, what if she starts killing indiscriminately? It's bad enough killing only criminals, but what if she suddenly goes on rampage? I can't afford that risk, people have to be warned."

He sighed. "Perhaps you should talk with Ms. Rosenberg herself."

"What?" I squeaked in a much undignified way. "You want me to talk with her?" With that killer? I added in my mind.

Nodding, he produced a pad and a pen from his jacket and started scribbling something. "If you understand her motives better you might be more willing to cooperate. Perhaps you can enlighten me on them later too."

"But-"

"She won't harm you, doctor, if she wanted to she would have done so last night. Here." He tore a sheet from his pad and handed it to me. "She's always in this church on Sundays."

"Church?" my eyebrows went up to my hairline.

"Indeed." He smiled. "You'll find Ms. Rosenberg quite different from your expectations, I'm sure."

Then he bid me a good day and left me staring at the address in my hands.

To Be Continued…