So far she recognized two of the clerical workers from the law offices, but there was little traffic in or out of the building, and no sign of Leo. She had no plan other than to watch and wait, although she’d made the decision to follow the lead secretary home that evening and question her. Jet hated collateral damage, especially an innocent like an employee, but she didn’t see much choice if she wanted results in a timely manner.
Toward the end of the day, she stiffened at the sight of a familiar profile marching down the sidewalk toward the entrance: Rudolf. Jet stood and walked slowly across the small park, blending in with the other pedestrians – a prudent measure, because the security chief was studying the surrounding vehicles for signs of surveillance, she could tell, and a lone woman on a bench might attract attention.
He entered the building, and she continued to a corner market, where she bought a loaf of cheap bread, taking her time as she watched the doors of the law office from the register. She carried the loaf to the park, tore crumbs from it, and tossed them to the pigeons scavenging beneath the trees, all the while watching for Leo to reappear.
Jet didn’t have to wait long. She was only halfway through the loaf when Rudolf exited carrying a briefcase and a laptop bag. Jet moved to the motorcycle and pulled on the helmet just as Rudolf threw open the rear door of a BMW X6 that was double-parked down the block and climbed into the SUV, which promptly cut into traffic and accelerated away.
Jet maintained a prudent distance, allowing the crossover to pull ahead until there were two blocks separating them. There was no guarantee that Rudolf would lead her to Leo, but it was reasonable to assume that he’d stopped by the offices for a reason, and the likeliest was to pick up something for his boss. She growled along past Red Square and then over a bridge to an outlying area as the X6 made its way through the clog of traffic.
The SUV stopped in front of a building with a glowing green cross mounted over its doors, and Jet drew to a halt fifty meters past the sign and watched the BMW in her handlebar mirror. Rudolf got out, moved to the entryway, and vanished inside.
She illegally parked the bike along with a half dozen others in a red zone, and approached a café on the corner where she could maintain her watch of the BMW and the building entrance. An hour later Rudolf returned to the car empty-handed. The SUV pulled away, and Jet paid for her drink before walking hurriedly down the sidewalk, a woman late for an appointment or preoccupied with private demons. She passed the entrance and glanced inside, where a small metal plaque announced the Temple Clinic and the street number, a single black intercom button beneath it. Two armed guards stood inside the foyer with submachine guns, and she could tell from a brief look that the thick glass door was bullet resistant.
Jet turned the corner and paused. Rudolf had brought the cases from the office to a high-end clinic, the sort of place that catered to the extremely rich in a city where kidnappings and assaults were commonplace. Given those circumstances, that Leo was in the clinic was a certainty.
She peered up at the building’s two stories – the windows didn’t open, she could see, and the exterior’s contemporary styling meant no handy footholds or sills from where she could gain entry. The edifices on either side of the clinic were six-and eight-story office complexes, also with smooth exteriors of glass and steel, whose flat fa?ades mirrored the setting sun.
Of course, it might be possible to access one of them and rappel down the side onto the clinic roof – assuming there were no motion detectors or other sophisticated security measures, which was a fifty-fifty proposition in Moscow at a facility that housed drugs and expensive equipment.
Jet kept walking and, after confirming there was no back alley down which she could sneak, turned as though she’d forgotten something and retraced her steps to the café, her professional discipline winning over her impulsive desire to enter the clinic with some ruse and simply kill her way to wherever the Russian was. There was no question she could take that approach, but the guards looked like they knew what they were doing, and with Leo having been recently attacked, she had to assume those watching over the clinic were alert to the possibility of another attempt.
Still, she reminded herself, this was progress. The prior day she’d been astride a motorbike of questionable dependability in the Russian hinterlands, hoping to pick up Leo’s scent, and now she’d narrowed the possibilities down to a clinic only footsteps away. That she had only gotten a few short hours of sleep last night at a flophouse that hosted more cockroaches than a septic tank was definitely wearing on her, but she’d gone many days with only snatches of rest before, and she’d survived. She simply needed to pace herself and avoid squandering her remaining resources while she waited for a break or conjured a way inside.