Williams uncrossed his arms, and sat forward. "I'm glad you stopped by anyway. Saved me a trip." He picked up a manila folder on his desk and handed it to Laura.

Laura flipped through the pages. The first was a faculty bio for professor Lisbeth Hoffman, first in German and a second printed translation, on letterhead from Heidelburg University. Behind it lay a copy of her passport, and her entrance visa paperwork from Customs and Border Protection. Three plane tickets were clipped to the front cover of the folder, from Seattle to Heidelburg, departing in four hours.

Laura skimmed Professor Hoffman's bio. Next to a serious looking professional headshot, it listed her as a 'Professor L. Hoffmann, Biology, Evolutionary Biology, Genome Sciences." Her summary read:

Professor Hoffman graduated with her B.S. in Chemistry and B.S. in Computer Science from the Technical University of Munich. She then earned her PhD in Biology from the Karolinska Institute in Sweden. Professor Hoffman returned to Germany and earned her tenure at Heidelburg University. She has published over 125 articles, most recently a series in the European Journal of Biology on the reproduction of Saccharomyces Cerevisiae. She is currently studying the replication of eukaryotic organisms using gel electrophoresis and microassays. When not teaching, Professor Hoffman enjoys skiing and opera.

Courses offered:

Genome 355: Introduction to Genomes

Genome 371: Computational genetics intensive

Selected publications:

...

Laura closed the folder. "I'm surprised you got a travel authorization."

Williams picked up a coffee mug from his desk and swirled the dredges at the bottom. "Don't thank me. Thank the Bundespolizei. I don't know what Professor Hoffman was up to, but the Germans are extremely keen on finding out what happened." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "This came straight from Director Wren."

Norris whistled. "From the director? Wow."

Laura leaned back in her chair. "Wait a minute. Why would a dead professor on an overstayed tourist visa be Director Wren's problem?"

Williams smiled. "You already know the answer to that, Laura."

She nodded. "I know. That's what I'm going to find out, right?"

"Exactly." He set his coffee mug down. "I can't tell you why, but I can tell you how it came about. We notified the German embassy in D.C. around noon yesterday, eight PM central Europe time. They relayed it on to their Auswärtiges Amt, the federal foreign office." He paused for effect, looking to both Laura and Norris in turn. He folded his hands behind his head, leaned back, and continued.

"The chief of the Bundespolizei and a few high ranking politicians paid a night visit to the U.S. ambassador to Germany in Berlin. Well, the Chargé d'Affaires, I guess. Did you know we don't actually have an ambassador right now?" He smoothed his tie. "Anway. They pulled up in a fleet of cars in the dark, tossed the ambassador out of bed, and told him the investigation into the suspicious circumstances around professor Hoffman's death was a matter of national security."

Laura sat forward, her eyes wide. She liked to think about every case as a puzzle, but this one just added a lot of new pieces. "Wow."

"Yeah. I've seen a lot of cases, and this just doesn't happen. Hoffman was on a sabbatical for 90 days. When her sabbatical ended and she was nowhere to be found, they started looking for her. They've been worried about this for a while."

Laura closed the folder and handed it to Norris. "I'm assuming two tickets are for Norris and I. Who's the third ticket?"

"Your translator. Roland Banks, a junior agent downstairs. He grew up bilingual in German. German mom, service member dad stationed at Ramstein."

Norris smirked. "Don't most Germans speak English anyway?"

Williams shook his head. "Can't assume. And if they provide you a translator, who knows what the translator's agenda is. The old KGB used to love offering up translators to visitors."

Laura stood up and checked her watch. "We should get moving."

Williams spoke up as they walked out. "Stay safe out there."

Laura walked out and closed the office door behind her. They made their way down the carpeted hallway, passing by a framed photo of a stern-faced Director Wren.

Norris pressed the elevator button and turned to Laura. "Constantine, how are you going to get home to pack?"

She shook her head. "I keep a 'go bag' under my desk, Norris. You don't?"

"Nope." He unbuttoned his suit jacket, raised his arm, and smelled the armpit of his starched white dress shirt. "I guess I'm rocking this for another day."

"Just buy another suit when you get there. At least a new shirt. Maybe a blue one. Be daring."

He smirked. "Sure. On my GS-13 pay? I'll splash out on a dozen. Why not?"

They stepped onto the elevator, and the doors closed softly. Laura pressed the buttons for two different floors. "Can you handle the meet and greet with our translator while I check in with toxicology?"

Norris shrugged. "Sure. I'll check out a car for us. I can meet you in the garage when you're ready."

The elevator stopped, and Laura stepped out. She wound her way down the tiled hallways, and found a door marked 'Toxicology.' She knocked and then opened the door. A technician swiveled on his desk chair to face her. "Help you?"

She extended her hand. "Agent Constantine. I requested the tox screening on the mushroom and the vomit swab."

His face lit up in recognition. "Ohh, that's right. You sent the whole frying pan to the lab. They got a kick out of that."

"Happy to be of service."

He turned to face his computer again, and scrolled through a long list of reports and opened one. "Oh wow. We just got the report back. It looks like you asked for a rush process on it. Hang on a minute." He scrolled down further in the activity log on the report. "Jeez. Director Wren's office put in a rush, too?"

"First I'm hearing about it."

"Huh. Well let's see what we have." He scrolled again, the black text reflected in his glasses in the dim room. "Okay. Looks like the mushroom slice was tested using the Weiland-Meixner test. They said in the notes that the slice was big enough to get it done. It stained blue with some hydrochloric acid, so it was positive for Amatoxin. That narrowed it down to... let's see... Amanita, Lepiota, and Galerina species."

He closed the report, and opened the next one in the series. It flashed the letterhead of the FBI Laboratory in Quantico, Virginia, with a small shield. "With Director Wren's rush order, they got some time with the remaining part of the slice on a PCR machine."

Laura took a seat next to his desk. "What does that mean?"

"Oh, right. A PCR is a way to amplify the DNA in a sample and sequence it. So, they were able to sequence part of the slice and confirmed that it was..." He scrolled again. "Amanita Virosa, common name 'Destroying Angel.'"

"Anything on the vomit sample?"

"Yep. You got fast tracked for everything. Lucky you." He chuckled. "Or maybe unlucky you, if Wren is on your ass for this one." He closed the last report and opened the next, on the same letterhead. He read for a moment, his eyes scanning quickly. "Okay, it looks like the vomit sample came back positive for Lysergic Acid."

"As in, LSD?"

"One in the same. They were having a heck of a party."

He flipped through the reports again, printing them. A nearby laser printer whined and clicked, and the technician wheeled over to grab the stack of papers. He fed them under a stapler at his desk and then handed them to Laura. They radiated warmth from the printer, and a faint smell of toner. Laura thanked the technician and walked out.

She reached her desk, pulled a small black nylon duffle bag from under her desk. She thought back to her first SAC, who told everyone to keep a bag handy with a change of clothes and toiletries. 'You have to be ready for the curveballs,' he liked to say. She started to collect her files and clip them into the folder with Hoffman's information. Her desk phone lit up and trilled.

She picked it up. "Ranger Billy Franklin here, is this Agent Constantine?"

"Speaking."

"Oh good. Well, bad news or good news first?"

"Bad. Always. Get it out of the way."

He chuckled, a low rumble. "Fine. The smokejumper went up this morning, and we got jack shit. Nothing out of the ordinary. Two occupied campsites with vehicles, and we know both of them. Regulars. One truck out fishing; they could see the guy at the lake with his pole."

Laura said nothing.

"We can still do the second flyover, but don't get your hopes up."

"What's the good news?"

He paused. "I had some coffee with Tootsie this morning. She knows just about everyone. She said a local came by earlier this morning talking about a weird hitchhiker. I'm wondering if it's your eighth camper."

Laura sat forward, grabbing a pen and small steno pad. "Okay. Tell me more. Weird how?"

"I guess she was hallucinating then threw up in his truck and passed out. He drove her to the hospital and dropped her at the ER."

Laura quickly jotted notes, the pen scratching urgently on paper. "Which ER?"

"Don't know. I think she said Burlington."

"Do you know if she's still there?"

"No idea."

"Thanks, Billy. Tell Tootsie I owe her a cinnamon roll."

"Will do. You take care, Agent Constantine."

The line clicked softly and Laura hung up her handset. She slid her notepad over on the desk and pulled out her keyboard. She searched for hospitals near Burlington, came up with a list, and started to dial. She started with the larger regional clinic south of town, waited on hold for a new minutes, and then a brusque nurse told her they had no reports of a hitchhiker in the ER.

She glanced at her watch, the minutes ticking by before her flight. She tried a small walk-in urgent care clinic, and had no luck. Then she dialed a primary care office and was told they had no associated ER. Last on her list, a hospital on the Northwest edge of town. She drummed her fingers on her desk as the phone rang, pressed against between her shoulder and ear.

A hurried woman's voice came through. "Unity General, how can I help?"

"Hi, this is Agent Constantine with the FBI. I'm following up on reports of a sick hitchhiker that may have been taken to your ER."

"Hold please. I'll get you to the emergency department."

Laura listened to a staticky twenty year old pop song, then a man's voice picked up. "Doctor Langley, emergency."

Laura explained the case and the hitchhiker. The man listened, then told her, "I think that was us. I heard a story about it in the staff lounge. They had to medivac her to a trauma center."

"They sent her to another hospital? Where?"

"Harborview. We didn't have enough breathing support, or a free dialysis machine. She needed an ICU."

"Do you know if she's still there? I need to interview her."

The doctor sighed. "She won't have a lot to say. She's in a coma on life support."