Soon after her meeting with the King, she'd executed her personal investigation with some of her best men, but this early on there was nothing and more nothing to report. There had been no disappearances since the Nobel case, which was something of a mixed blessing.
Himura kept hidden as he promised and, much to her dismay, had taken it upon himself to cook on a regular basis. It was not that he was a bad chief, but her father would have scolded her for letting a guest carry on like a housewife. Cultures were different, she reminded herself, and people, too.
It was too early on to think her hypothesis had been wrong.
To organize her thoughts, Integra spent the early morning training. She'd fallen out of practice some with all of the office and investigation work, not that it stopped her from pushing just as hard. By the time she made it to the shooting range, her clothes were partially soaked with sweat.
There wasn't much for it. She wanted to do another lap before she finished, so it would be useless to change now.
The colonel slung a towel over her shoulders and collected her equipment. With any luck, the outdoor range would be empty at this hour.