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out of the question.
    A team of criminalists was setting up lights and gathering samples at the east end of the main slaughterhouse where the chip
     had been found.
    Dietrich examined the dead rat and then looked up at Burkhart. “Remind me not to anger you, Herr Burkhart.”
    Burkhart shrugged. “Just a lot of practice.”
    “You have the chip?” Dietrich asked.
    Mattie dug in her pants pocket and came up with a plastic evidence sleeve with the chip and the flesh inside.
    Dietrich took it from her and studied it closely.
    “High Commissar?” one of the evidence specialists called. He was crouched over a bolt protruding from the floor beneath the
     rusty overhead track. “I’ve got something here.”
    Dietrich stiffened and hesitated before looking at Mattie and Burkhart. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to ask you to leave now.”
    “What?” Mattie said. “Why?”
    “This is a crime scene. I can’t have any more contamination.”
    “Contamination?” Mattie said. “We did everything by the book in here. We backed out the second we found the chip, and we waited
     for Kripo.”
    “So you did,” Dietrich replied calmly. “It does not change things. You’ll have to leave. You should know, Frau Engel. It’s
     department policy.”
    Mattie shook her head, unable to contain her anger. “High Commissar, until six weeks ago, Chris was my fiancé. I have every
     right to be here.”
    Dietrich softened but still shook his head. “I’m sorry for you,” he replied quietly. “But you have no right to be here. So
     leave, or I’ll have you taken out.”
    Mattie was gathering herself to protest one more time when she felt Burkhart’s massive hand on her shoulder. “We should go
     now, Mattie. Give Kripo some space. We’ve got other things to take care of.”
    Mattie’s shoulders sagged and she felt like crying, but she nodded.
    “Good,” Dietrich said. “And if you’ll be so kind as to come to my office tomorrow morning at nine I will tell you what we’ve
     found.”
    “We will too,” Burkhart offered. “Private wants to help.”
    “I’d prefer you don’t launch a shadow investigation,” Dietrich said.
    Mattie hardened. “As long as Chris is missing, we’ll keep searching.”
    Dietrich shrugged. “Fair enough. Negotiated cooperation then.”
    “Deal,” Burkhart said and led Mattie away.
    The high commissar followed them to the south entry to the slaughterhouse, and watched them walk down the driveway in the
     pelting rain.
    Inspector Weigel came up beside him. “Excuse me, sir, but I thought you told me before they came that we wouldn’t be cooperating
     with Private in any way.”
    Dietrich did not look at his young trainee. “What’s that old saying, Weigel? Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer?”
    “Private’s investigators are enemies?” Weigel asked.
    “There’s a man missing, their man, Weigel,” Dietrich said. “We certainly can’t treat them as friends.”

CHAPTER 11
    I TAKE A left turn onto the lane that runs past the old slaughterhouse and see the police barrier immediately. A uniformed police
     officer is letting two people leave, a tall man, imposing and bald, and a blond woman wearing a navy-blue rain slicker with
     the hood up.
    They walk toward me and a BMW parked on the shoulder.
    For a second I can’t breathe. Dots dance before my eyes. I feel like they’re a pack of snarling dogs suddenly biting at my
     ankles.
    What have they found?
    My young genius is wrapped in a blue tarp behind me on the van floor, but I’m not thinking of him. I’m being strangled by
     that question.
    What have they found?
    Then old training kicks in. I get ahold of myself and quickly lower the sun visor. The passenger windows of my van are slightly
     tinted. All the man and the woman will see is a silhouette of me as I pass them and the police barrier.
    I take my first breath, then another, and by the fifth I have to fight not to hyperventilate. But I get the van turned