Even from Dan’s position, he could see this guy was struggling with a heavy cold. He sneezed two or three times in quick succession before finally managing to key in the number. He was slow doing it and once again, Dan got a pretty good view and was certain he’d got it right now.
No one else arrived before nine o’clock and Dan relaxed a little, doubting there’d be much to see for the next few hours. He also knew this wasn’t the full outfit. These were backroom people, though he’d show them no more mercy for that.
The first movement came at lunchtime. The man and woman who’d arrived together went out, strolling along the street and coming back after half an hour with what looked like a lunch order.
He was average build and height, with the kind of boy-next-door good looks that had almost run their distance—he was beginning to look doughy, his hair receding. She was attractive, dark hair pulled back, possibly Hispanic, and she was clearly the more observant of the two, glancing around, even taking in the building where Dan was hiding, though never reaching up to his floor.
Not long after lunch, he saw a black BMW pull into the street. It stopped outside the building as if the driver was searching for a place to park, then reversed, and turned into a narrow gateway that led behind the buildings on that side.
There obviously wasn’t a back entrance because, a few minutes later, the two guys strolled from the same turning and down to the building. Dan recognized them right away, the two guys who’d been parked outside the Vergoncey.
One was fair and, once again, late twenties. The other was a little darker, and closer to Dan’s age, though he didn’t know him. Both of them had a restrained swagger, a misplaced confidence that set them apart from all the other people who’d headed into that office.
Dan watched for a while, but after an hour he guessed they weren’t coming back out. Would they usually spend the day in the office, he wondered, or had they been sent there for additional protection? Brabham would know by now that there had been a death at the Vergoncey and a bloodbath in the countryside near Auxerre, and he’d possibly also heard that Dan was no longer in Paris, so perhaps this was just a precaution, and a half-hearted one at that.
Dan kept watching through the afternoon, and then with the street once again in darkness, he watched them leave one by one. For the most part, they left in the same order that they’d arrived, except that the two guys in the car left at the same time as the woman, doing their best to impress her as they walked the short distance along the street together.
Only one guy was left, and when Dan saw the lights go out, he made his way downstairs. The guy was sneezing even as he came out of the door, and if anything, looked worse than he had that morning. Briefly, he looked at the lit window of the pharmacy, but he checked his watch and changed his mind, heading off along the street.
Dan trailed after him, picking up his pace only when he saw that the guy was about to jump on a tram. Dan boarded further down, bought a ticket from the machine, watched casually. The guy was so out of it with his cold, though, that Dan probably could have been standing right next to him and he wouldn’t have noticed.
They didn’t stay on many more stops, and when they got off, the guy made a couple of turns, into quiet streets of apartment blocks. There was hardly anyone about. Dan checked his watch—just after six, but becoming fiercely cold. He followed him into a small apartment block, not old but already looking dated.
The guy looked at the stairs, and on a better day he’d have probably used them, but with a resigned look he headed to the elevator and pressed the button. Only as he stepped inside did he become aware that there was someone behind him.
He jumped a little, but didn’t suspect anything, and nodded, even looked ready to ask which floor Dan wanted. It only took him a second to work out that he didn’t recognize Dan from the building but from the office, and by that time Dan already had the gun on him.
Neither of them said anything. The elevator stopped, doors sliding open with a judder.
“I’m just a tech guy.”
Dan waved the gun a little and he stepped out and walked along the short corridor to a blank-looking door. He reached into his pocket for a key, and was shaking visibly as he opened the door. Dan stepped in behind him and closed the door.
They walked through into a small sitting room that looked as if a handful of students lived there, empty cartons all over the place, a games console, DVDs and magazines on every surface.
“Take off the lanyard and drop it on the table there.” The guy did as he was told. “You live here alone?”
The guy nodded vigorously and said, “I really am just a tech guy, it’s all I do, I mean . . . I’ll tell you anything, all you need to know.”
Dan could tell he was being straight with him—it was too bad.