Charlie smiled without much conviction and stood up, saying, “Give me ten minutes.”
He was a little more than that, but it didn’t matter, and only gave Dan more time to think about Benoit not showing. He didn’t want to think the worst because he was a decent guy and had finally done what so many of them had failed to do and built himself a life, but Dan had a bad feeling they wouldn’t be seeing him again.
The best-case scenario was that Benoit had been tipped off or that he’d read the runes better than the rest of them, that he’d gone into hiding on his own, protecting Isabelle and the kid by being away from them. More likely was that they’d picked him up and it was only a matter of time until the body surfaced.
Charlie had clearly been thinking about it too, because as they walked from the hotel together, he said, “I don’t think Benoit’s been caught up in this. He’s too good to be taken down that easily, too smart.”
Dan didn’t want to point out the obvious. Karl Wittmann had been one of the best people he’d ever worked with—tough, resourceful, scarily efficient—so if they’d taken him down they could take any of them. In Dan’s view it didn’t matter how good a person was, no one could cover all the angles, so it was just a matter of taking them when they weren’t looking, or when they were crossing the street with their mind on something else.
He didn’t want Charlie to dwell on it, so he said, “If it’s all about being smart you’re in serious trouble.”
Charlie laughed and threw a playful punch at his arm, still powerful enough to register and knock Dan slightly off his stride.
When they got to the apartment, Charlie looked through the scope and said, “Now that is one hell of a view. What a piece of luck finding this place.”
“A small piece of luck. I pulled strings.”
“I bet you did,” Charlie said without taking his eyes away. He seemed to have temporarily forgotten the other business, and Benoit’s disappearance, and he smiled as he said, “Wow. His wife is very attractive.”
“Dark hair?”
“That’s her.”
“Actually, that’s the nanny. His wife’s blonde.”
“Okay, so the nanny is very attractive. Even better.”
Dan checked the time and glanced down to the street now. Sure enough, there they were just coming around the corner.
“Here’s Martinez walking back with the boy.”
Charlie reluctantly pulled away from watching the nanny and looked down to see Martinez strolling amiably along the street, chatting with the boy who seemed to be explaining something about his day, some description that involved lots of arm movements.
It was such an inconspicuous sight, one probably seen in neighborhoods the world over, but Charlie watched their progress as if looking at something extraordinary, and finally said, “It’s amazing.” He turned to Dan. “No bodyguards at all?”
“Not that I’ve seen. Makes sense in a way—bodyguards would only make people suspicious, maybe question who he really is. His real security was that no one knew he was here.”
“You did.”
“Yeah, well, no one can disappear completely.”
Charlie nodded and said, “How do you wanna take him?”
“We’ll do it in the morning.” He pointed along the street. “He turns right up there, into a long street, very quiet. We’ll be able to park up, take him on the school run.”
“On the way back?”
“No, on the way there. I don’t think he’s armed but, whether he is or not, he’ll be more compliant if his kid’s with him.”
He looked back to the street, though Martinez and the boy had already disappeared into their building. They both looked across then, Dan picking up the binoculars, and waited until the two of them emerged into their apartment, a flurry of domestic activity engulfing them.
Almost to himself, Charlie said, “He’s had a good setup here.” Implicit in that was the acknowledgement that it was about to come to an end, that regrettably, they were about to end it. “I could live like that. Couldn’t you? You know, don’t you ever wish you’d settled, had kids?”
He realized immediately what he’d said and stood back from the scope, turning to Dan with a look of horror.
Dan lowered the binoculars and smiled as he said, “Don’t.”
“Dan, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean . . .”
“I know what you meant, don’t worry about it. It was a long time ago.”
Charlie shook his head, clearly still angry at himself for that careless comment. The irony was, it was referred to so rarely, Dan was so reluctant to discuss or even acknowledge the wound he’d carried around these last seven years, that Charlie’s momentary lapse was hardly surprising.
“I’m still sorry. I know you don’t like to talk about it, but I . . . I don’t know.”