I turned onto some steps that went directly downhill, to cut off the bend that they’d followed toward the casino. The steps led to an apartment building on the steep side of the road, and were well worn, which I hoped was going to prove it was a short cut.
I hurtled down them, past exotic plants and boring gray concrete blocks on each side of me, keeping my left hand on the fanny pack and Browning and checking traser, as if I were late for an appointment, until I reached the road below. The casino was to my half-left about a hundred and fifty yards away. Legoland policemen kept people moving so the Ferraris and Rolls-Royces had somewhere to park. The manicured lawns were being pampered by the sprinklers; directly left along the road, just under a hundred yards, was the intersection with the avenue. I turned right, not checking anywhere because the Romeos could already be at the intersection and heading my way. I continued to play looking at my watch as I hurried past fur-coated women and expensive stores.
By the time I rounded the corner to the de la Scala square, my neck was not just damp but drenched with sweat. There was no sign of Lotfi anywhere on the grass, listening to my follow so he could decide when the time was right to go into the mall and get a trigger on the meet. The only people in sight were the orange-jumpsuited, tree-cutting crew, having a coffee break on a bench. I tried again on the radio, but there was nothing. I’d just have to get on with it: I might be the only one here.
I started toward the glass doors of the mall, taking deep breaths to reoxygenate myself, pushed through with my shoulder as I wiped the sweat with my shirt cuffs, and headed straight for the cafe, past the reception and the Roman marble entrance. The same immaculately dressed dark-haired woman was operating the desk, and still gabbing on the phone. The same sort of people were at the cafe, too, talking discreetly into cell phones or reading papers. Some did both. I pulled up a chair to the rear of the outside tables and by the left-hand corner of the mall, so I was facing the reception but could also cover the exit by the dry-cleaner’s.
I started to worry a little as I flattened my wet hair on the back of my head. What if the Romeos had gone elsewhere? Hell, I was committed now. I’d just have to wait and see.
The waiter who took my coffee order was more interested in watching a woman crossing her stockinged legs at one of the other tables than he was in my sweaty face. I took off my glasses and just hoped that one of the other two was nearly here. I needed some backup desperately.
My creme turned up with a cookie and a small paper napkin between the cup and saucer to take the spills. I handed the guy a fifty-franc note, not wanting to wait for a bill later. I needed to be able to jump up and go, without being chased myself for doing a running off. The change emerged from his money-bag and smacked down on the table just as Lotfi burst onto the net. He was out of breath and, by the sound of it, on foot and moving fast. “Anyone, anyone, stand by, stand by. Anyone there? Stand by, stand by. They are in the square, Romeo One and Two in the square approaching the mall.”
I reached into my jacket as I took a sip from the napkin-wrapped cup.
The snarl of a chainsaw gave me a clue to his location. “That’s complete the building now, they’re inside.”
Click, click.
There was relief on the air. “Is that N?”
Click, click.
“Are you inside?”
Click, click.
“Okay, I’ll stay outside, I’ll stay outside.”
Click, click.
The Romeos appeared at the end of the hallway and looked around, getting their bearings: they obviously hadn’t been here before. They eventually walked up to the reception area and studied the board. They stood for ten or fifteen seconds before their eyes seemed to lock on to the address they wanted: Office 617, the Monaco Training Consultancy.
I took another sip of coffee and watched between the heads of two women who were babbling in Italian in front of me, smoking themselves and anyone nearby into an early grave. Romeo Two had his shades back on now. He took a pen from his inside pocket and used it to press the buzzer; I bet he’d used his shoulders to get through the door as well.
What now? What was I going to do if I was locked outside while they got directions from the receptionist?
Romeo Two bent down and I watched him say a few words into a speaker by the buzzers — maybe a confirmation statement. Whatever it was, he was a happy man as he stood upright and gave Romeo One, who didn’t look too certain about things, a reassuring nod.
They waited, not going into the Roman entrance just to their left, and then I realized why. I needn’t have worried. There were cameras behind the receptionist’s desk, and she would know what office they’d gone into. So they waited, admiring the Persian rugs in the store opposite, perhaps wondering, like I had, why people would pay so much just for something to stand on. Their moms could probably knock one off in a couple of weeks.
Lotfi came back on the air; the chainsaw fired up behind him, before turning into a high-pitched whine as it bit into a tree. “N, radio check.” He sounded anxious, not knowing what was going on inside and needing some reassurance.
I double-clicked him as the reception doors opened and out came a tall, dark-skinned man with black hair, graying at the temples in a way that made him look quite distinguished. He was about six foot and slim, not Arab, maybe Turkish, maybe Afghan. They didn’t shake hands. He wore an expensive-looking navy suit, black loafers, and a dazzling white shirt, buttoned all the way up, no tie. Maybe, like many people, he refused to wear one because it was a symbol of the West. Or maybe he was a fashion victim. I’d get the boys on the warship to ask him later.
They finished exchanging half a dozen very serious-looking words and all three started to walk back out of the door of the mall they’d come in through. I warned Lotfi. Click, click. Click, click.
Lotfi was straight back. “Coming out?”
Click, click.
“Same doors?”
Click, click.
They disappeared from sight and, no more than three seconds later, the net burst into life once more. “L has Romeos One, Two, and Three. They’ve gone right, your right as you exit. Toward the rear of the building.”
I got up from the table and double-clicked him as I wiped the mug, keeping the napkin with me. As Lotfi carried on the commentary with the chainsaw in the background, I shoved the napkin into my jacket pocket, where it joined the muffin wrapper and plastic coffee cup. “That’s Romeos One, Two, and now Three, foxtrot on the right, still on the right-hand side. About halfway toward the rear. They’re not talking. Romeo One is still aware, they have quick feet.”
I pushed my way through the glass doors into the cacophony of traffic and chainsaw. I didn’t bother to look for Lotfi. I knew he was there somewhere.
“Do you want me to stay here?”
I double-clicked him as I turned right, and followed on the same side of the road, putting my shades back on.
Chapter 34
They were now about two-thirds of the way down the narrow road leading to the service area at the rear of the building, still not talking, but at least Romeo One wasn’t looking around anymore. He still had the bag over his shoulder and hung back slightly because there wasn’t enough room for three abreast on the sidewalk. They’d chosen a good route, avoiding cameras; the only bits of people control were the two-foot-high steel barriers stopping people parking on the curb. By Monaco standards, it was all quite relaxed.
They turned right at the corner and disappeared from view. I quickened my pace to get eyes on in case they disappeared completely through a door. I hit the pressle. “That’s all three Romeos right, to the rear, temporary unsighted.”
I got two clicks from Lotfi; I didn’t know if he could see and it didn’t really matter, so long as he knew what
