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As the employees watched them with a mixture of curiosity and dread, Jake couldn't shake the feeling that they were circling a nest of vipers. There was something rotten here, and he could sense it seeping through the walls and poisoning the very air they breathed. But finding the source wouldn't be easy.
"Mr. Anderson," Fiona said, "I need you to tell me where you keep the Cyphaclide and who has access to it."
Anderson's expression was anything but friendly, but he said, "It's in the warehouse behind a giant door with a code lock. You can't miss it. Only those with the code can get in. It's highly-regulated stuff."
"I need that code," Fiona said, and Jake was impressed by her boldness. She had been growing more confident with each case.
Anderson shook his head, and Jake could tell he was going to be difficult.
"No," Anderson said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can't give you that code."
Jake stepped forward, the atmosphere suddenly tense. He knew that intimidation wouldn't work with a man like Anderson, but he had to try something.
"All due respect, sir," Jake began sternly. "You don't have a choice here. We need that code if we're going to investigate this case further."
Anderson was silent for a moment before finally relenting with a deep sigh. He took a notepad and pen out from his pocket, then scribbled something down. He handed it to Fiona.
"There. That's the code."
Jake nodded, grateful Anderson wasn't being too much of a thorn in their side. He had to know it was bad for his company to resist when they had a warrant.
"Let's get to work," Jake said to Fiona, his voice low and determined. "We need to cover every inch of this place. And keep an eye out for anything suspicious."
"Understood," Fiona replied, her eyes glinting with the same fire that had driven them both throughout their careers. They had faced danger together before, and Jake knew they could do it again.
They made their way into the next room. The warehouse loomed before them, its high ceiling and dim lighting casting eerie shadows across the rows of shelves stacked with insecticides. Fiona led the way, her steps echoing through the cavernous space as they made their way to the secured storage area where the poison Cyphaclide was kept.
"Here we are," she said, stopping in front of a heavy metal door with a keypad lock. "This must be where they store the Cyphaclide. We need to find out who's been taking it out and for what purpose."
"Right," Jake agreed, his eyes scanning the door for any signs of tampering. "Let's see the list of names."
Fiona punched in the code, and the door clicked open, revealing rows upon rows of neatly organized bottles and containers. The Cyphaclide, a highly regulated substance, was stored separately in a locked cabinet. Fiona produced a key, unlocked the cabinet, and carefully pulled out the logbook that recorded every instance the poison had been taken out.
"Look at this," she murmured as they flipped through the pages. "All the men have to sign off when they take it out, complete with the date, time, and job number."
"Good," Jake said, his eyes narrowing as he studied the list of names. He took a photo and forwarded it to Fiona, taking note of one of the names on the list--Mike Friesen. "Anderson said a guy named Mike was supposed to go to Roger's. It looks like he took out some of the chemicals a couple of weeks ago. I should talk to him. Meanwhile, I think we should split up to cover more ground. We need to see what they're hiding in their computer systems, too, so why don't you take that?"
"I'm on it," Fiona said.
They both left the chemical room, safely closing the door behind them. With a nod, Jake watched Fiona go before making his way to the office, where a young man looked up as Jake approached, his expression a mixture of fear and defiance. A nametag on his shirt read MIKE.
"Mike, right?" Jake asked, his voice cool and calculating.
"Y-yeah, that's me," Mike stammered, wiping his sweaty palms on his uniform. "What do you want? Anderson said the FBI was here..."
"Roger Gray called to cancel your appointment at his place, didn't he?" Jake inquired, watching the young man closely for any signs of deception.
"Uh, yeah," Mike replied hesitantly. "He said something came up, and he had to reschedule. Why? What's this about?"
"Three murders involving a rare poison, that's what this is about," Jake said, his eyes never leaving Mike's face. "And we have reason to believe that Insect Away Home might be involved."
"Hey, I didn't do anything!" Mike protested, his face pale with fear. "I don't know anything about any poison or any murders!"
"Relax," Jake said. "We're just trying to piece together the puzzle." Jake studied Mike's face, trying to gauge his sincerity. "So you're saying you have no criminal record? You've never been in any kind of trouble before?"
"None," Mike insisted, a touch of indignation creeping into his voice. "I'm just an exterminator, man. I kill bugs, not people."
"But you did check out some Cyphaclide a few weeks ago," Jake pointed out.
