The windows.
There were so many windows, but not all of them had an unobstructed view of Raven’s position. Wolfgang squinted into the sun and scanned first one building, then the next, running his eyes along each floor, searching for irregularities.
Kevin’s voice broke across the radio. “I have a target moving south along Saint-Germain! Matches Spider’s description. Charlie Eye, do you have him?”
“Hold, Charlie Three . . .” Lyle’s said.
Wolfgang ignored the exchange and continued to scan the windows. His stomach tightened with an increasing unease—a practiced instinct he’d learned to follow over years of mishaps and near-death mistakes.
Their position was far too exposed. Raven’s position was far too exposed. A lone sniper, nestled in an elevated position less than fifty yards from Raven’s seat next to the window, wouldn’t need a high-powered rifle. He could take both Raven and Spider out with two quick shots from a silenced .17 HMR, or even a high-powered air gun. There would be no sound—just two men crashing forward over a coffee table, with blood spraying from their skulls.
“I can’t confirm identity. The satellite is lagging,” Lyle said. “Charlie Two, can you confirm physical attributes?”
“He’s short,” Kevin said. “Five-seven, five-eight. Round glasses. European complexion. I can’t determine any more without closing in. Should I proceed?”
“Negative, Charlie Two,” Edric said. “Do not approach. Maintain cover.”
Wolfgang shot a glance back up Saint-Germain. He saw the man immediately, working his way toward the café with a briefcase in one hand, the other hand jammed in his pocket. Was it Spider, or was it an assassin armed with a silenced pistol?
What would I do if I were the assassin?
Wolfgang chewed his lip, then turned back to the surrounding buildings. He wouldn’t use a pistol. He wouldn’t get that close.
“Working the satellite now. I think I have an image,” Lyle whispered over the headset.
Wolfgang saw movement from the fourth floor of an apartment building across the street from the café. A Juliet balcony was mounted to the wall, directly in front of an open window. He could have sworn that window was closed only five seconds before. Now it was open, and while darkness shrouded the apartment’s interior, he knew he’d seen something move.
“Charlie Lead,” Wolfgang said, keeping his eyes fixed on the window. “I have movement. Fourth floor apartment building, across from the café.”
“Monitor, Charlie Three. Hold position.”
Wolfgang squinted into the sun. He would have held his hand up, shielding his eyes, but the gesture would draw attention. Instead, he ignored the discomfort and focused on the window.
There it was. Another movement. A shadow in the apartment.
“I have the image!” Lyle said. “Running facial recognition now. I think this is Spider.”
“Where is he?” Megan asked from inside the café.
“One hundred yards from the café and closing,” Kevin said.
“Stay on him, Charlie Two,” Edric said.
Wolfgang pressed his finger against his ear, adjusting the earpiece. “Charlie Lead, I have movement in this apartment. Open window with clear line of sight to Spider’s route.”
“Hold your position until we confirm identity,” Edric said.
Then Wolfgang saw it—a hard outline running perpendicular to the spindles of the Juliet balcony, pointed toward the café.
“Gun!” Wolfgang snapped. “I’m moving in!”
6
Wolfgang broke into a run, launching himself off the sidewalk and into the street as horns blared and Edric barked over the radio.
“Negative, Charlie Three! Hold your position. Do not engage!”
Wolfgang ignored the order, keeping one eye on the window as he ran. He could still see the outline of the rifle muzzle pointed at the café.
Tires shrieked, and Wolfgang twisted, his hip glancing off the front corner of a car as an irate motorist screamed at him in French. He jumped back onto the sidewalk and crashed toward the first door he saw, his breath whistling through his teeth as he smacked his elbow against the gun beneath his jacket. All his second thoughts about carrying the weapon were gone now. He was about to take down a Russian sniper, right in the heart of a European city, and he was likely to need all the firepower he could get.
A glass door with a reception desk guarded the side entrance to the apartment complex. Wolfgang skidded past the desk and took the first hallway that led to the edge of the building. He instinctively knew that a stairwell would be located there, providing the most efficient method of escape in the event of a fire.
Edric continued to shout over the earpiece, but he wasn’t shouting at Wolfgang any longer. The commands were directed at Kevin and Megan, ordering them to reposition to cover Wolfgang’s vacancy.
“Target has stopped!” Kevin shouted. “He saw Charlie Three moving. He’s backing away.”
“Charlie Two, stay on him,” Edric ordered. “Charlie One, stay with Raven!”
Wolfgang reached into his ear and dug the earpiece out, cramming it into his pocket as he bounded up the stairwell. He took the steps three at a time and launched himself around the corners of each landing. His heart pounded, and in his mind he counted the number of windows from the corner of the building to the window he’d seen overlooking the café. Was it six? Or seven? He wasn’t sure, and it mattered.
He reached the fourth floor and slid to a halt, catching his breath and laying his hand gently on the door handle. Quiet, now. Not too fast. He didn’t want that rifle redirected at him. The fourth-floor hallway was quiet and still. Each door, made of wood and painted in different shades of bright pastels, was shut and bolted, with glistening Roman numerals to mark the apartment number.
Wolfgang slid his hand beneath his jacket and felt the comforting weight of the Berretta. He closed his eyes momentarily and envisioned the window again. It was the seventh window from the corner; he was sure of it now. He had to be sure.
He opened his eyes and hurried down the hall, bending low and keeping the gun inside his jacket. He would try the knob first, and if it was unlocked, he would ease inside before drawing
