It was easy to know who he was referring to. Two of the three men were very average in build and height. The third was taller than his colleagues by at least twenty centimetres. His uncomfortable-looking slump didn’t succeed in making him look more relaxed or shorter. Instead it brought more attention to his muscular shoulders that didn’t allow him to hunch over much.
Colin’s phone buzzed and he looked at the screen. “Vin contacted Daniel, who’s bringing Millard and the rest of the GIPN team. They’ll be here in eight minutes.”
I blinked a few times. There were only two empty tables in the whole café. The way the men were positioning their bodies alerted me to the fact that they were very likely carrying firearms under their jackets. If there were to be a firefight in this establishment, many people could be injured. Or worse.
“We should talk to them first.” I couldn’t believe I had just suggested such an outrageous and risky move.
“I can phone Vin now and you can talk to him.” Colin lifted his phone.
I shook my head. “No. I don’t want to talk to Vinnie.” On the one hand I regretted my impulsive suggestion. But the more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that this would be the best move. “You and I should go and talk to the three men.”
Colin’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
He sat back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. “You know, that’s actually not such a bad idea.” He lowered his gaze to look at me. “But first study them and be very sure that they’re not going to do something stupid.”
“Like kill you.” Caelan squeezed his stress balls. “I don’t want you to die.”
“I don’t want to die either.” I really didn’t. Just the thought of putting myself in harm’s way like this already brought the blackness of a shutdown into my peripheral vision. I pushed Mozart’s Symphony in A minor into my mind, leaned closer to Caelan to hide more of myself behind the pillar and studied the men.
They weren’t talking much. Just a few quietly spoken words and then they continued observing the patrons of the café. I almost smiled when it became very obvious that their interest was completely focused on our table. I knew this because ours was the only table they didn’t look at. Their studied avoidance was almost comical. It made me wonder about their training.
The tall man lowered his eyes when he spoke to the man with the acne-scarred skin and wire-rimmed glasses. The third man leaned a bit closer to listen to the taller man, his nonverbal cues also submissive to the man with the glasses. He didn’t look at them, but it was clear that he was listening intently. When he answered, it was with the kind of authority that confirmed my impression that he was their leader.
The other two nodded and resumed their attempt at appearing relaxed while watching everyone. A few times their eyes rested on the two officers who were now sharing a joke. Each time, their eyes narrowed, but they didn’t look concerned.
“Well?” Colin touched my forearm.
“They’re ready to take action if needed, but there’s no indication of aggression.”
“Jenny?” He waited until I looked at him. “I don’t like this idea.”
“Neither do I.” I thought back to the briefing this morning. “Manny will insist on coming in here with Daniel.”
“And the idiot will get us all killed.” Colin nodded and pushed himself up. He held out his hand to me. “Ready?”
“No.” Caelan started rocking. “The Amazon rainforest is home to one third of the planet’s land species. Don’t go.”
“We’ll be okay, bud.” Colin glanced at the cops, who hadn’t even noticed us joining Caelan. “Stay right here. Vinnie and Daniel will be here soon. We’ll make sure nothing bad happens.”
“You can’t give that guarantee.” I hated it when neurotypicals lied in their attempt to calm or, even worse, placate others.
“I can.” Colin pulled me up, his posture confident. “You and I make an incredible team and together we will make sure this situation doesn’t escalate at all.”
Chapter FIFTEEN
They noticed us the moment we stepped out from behind the pillar. The tall man straightened, his unsuccessful attempt at a slump forgotten as his eyes narrowed, watching us approach. I resisted reaching for Colin’s hand, knowing that this would create the impression of weakness. Instead I pushed Mozart’s Fugue in G minor into my mind, hoping the organ music would keep me calm for the risk we were now taking.
The third man had a mole above his left eyebrow. It moved when his eyebrows drew together in a deep frown. He too straightened in his chair, his hand touching the bulge under his jacket as if to reassure himself his weapon was still there. The only one who didn’t react outwardly was the leader.
Colin had his phone out and swiped the screen a few times before tilting it so I could see. He had phoned Francine, but had muted the call. She could hear us, but no sound would come from the speakers on Colin’s phone. He put his phone in the pocket of his designer shirt, the screen and therefore the microphone pointing away from him. He never put anything in the pockets of his shirts. He’d told me a few times that it was the habit of a pen-pusher and he was definitely not one.
We were now two tables away from the men and I forced my mind away from the safety of thinking about metaphors used for office workers. It was imperative that I observed these men. I didn’t want to miss any micro-expression or cue that could indicate actions that could put our lives and the lives of the café’s patrons in danger.
The table next to the three men were unoccupied and Colin walked straight there and took the two chairs. One he put close to the leader and the other closer to the tall man. The position of the chairs would place us effectively between the men and the rest of the café. We would be blocking their path. I mentally turned up the volume of the fugue.
“Gentlemen.” Colin sat on the chair by the tall man and waved at the other chair. “Sit down, love. We’re going to have a little chat.”
“Go away.” The tall man pulled his shoulders back, his arms moving away from his torso—all indicators of aggression. Colin reacted by stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing his feet. With this position of comfort, he’d just conveyed that he was not feeling threatened. And that he was confident. Colin was an accomplished liar.
The leader pushed his glasses up on his nose. He first looked at me when I sat down next to him, then at Colin. He waved a dismissing hand at the tall man. “It’s okay. Let them join us. Why not?”
The leader’s accented English was less telling than the tall man’s, but it made me take a second look at their features. All three men had dark hair, olive skin and facial structures that most commonly were associated with one area. “You’re from Iran.”
“We’re visiting your beautiful city and enjoying the café culture everyone writes about.”
The leader’s non-answer and body language almost brought a smile to my face. “You’re an inept liar.”
Colin cleared his throat and I winced. I supposed it would be safer for me to keep my observations to myself. I bit down on my lips to prevent myself from saying anything that might provoke hostility. But the leader’s reaction wasn’t hostile. His smile was genuine. “We really are enjoying the beauty of your city.”
Colin stared at him for a few seconds. After so many years with him, I could see his mind absorbing all the important information and working on the best way to approach this man. Before he could say anything, all three Iranian men’s eyes left us to look at the front of the café.