He tucked his gun back into the holster and snapped the button on the strap to hold it in place. His breathing quickened as he lifted his leg up over the rail and straddled it for a moment before putting his foot on the narrow, metal beam. Fortunately, the top of the rail was flat, giving him at least a small edge on which to balance. He picked up his other foot and stood erect, keeping his balance and most of his weight on his right hand as it pressed against the wall. He fought the urge to look down, but his peripheral vision saw everything else: the city skyline, the cars moving slowly through traffic, and yes, the five-story fall. A gust of wind whipped up, seemingly out of nowhere, and nearly caused him to lose his balance. He shifted his weight slightly, steadying himself against the heavy breeze.
Sean took in one more long, slow breath. "You got this," he muttered to himself. He bent both knees and pushed off hard, but his left foot slipped and didn't give an optimal boost. He hurtled at an awkward angle through the air, but his jump was much shorter than necessary. His hands shot up instinctively in an attempt to grab the other balcony, but his fingertips scraped the edge as he flew past. A sickening sensation filled Sean's mind. The gushing air underneath him sent a chill through his spine as he fell. His fears had come true. He winced for a second, knowing that the thing he'd been afraid of his entire life had finally come to fruition.
All of this ran through his mind in the span of two seconds. The third second, he realized he was heading for the balcony directly below the one he'd aimed for. His body hurtled to the concrete platform. He put his feet out and hit with the left foot first, then the right, and let his lower body go limp, falling to the hard landing with a roll. His back hit the railing on the other side of the balcony, stopping him cold.
Sean looked around for a second and realized he was okay. His back throbbed a little from hitting the rail right where the man in Agadir had struck him with his elbow, but other than that, he was fine.
Better lucky than good, he thought. But he wasn't out of the woods yet.
He forced himself back onto his feet and over to the balcony door. He put his hand on the latch and prayed silently that these tenants weren't as paranoid as Dr. Ott. He twisted the aluminum latch and was relieved that it gave way. He poked his head inside and looked around. The layout to the apartment was a replica of the one upstairs. The decor, however, was much different.
Pictures of cats adorned the walls. An afghan was hung over a couch that looked like it was something left over from the early 1980s. The kitchen cabinets were the same as upstairs, telling him that the contractor had provided the same to every unit.
Sean listened for a second. He didn't see anyone, but that didn't mean no one was home. Quietly, he stepped into the home and eased the door shut. He didn't hear anything. He hurried over to the door, opened it, and exited the apartment. The elevators were close by, but he opted for taking the stairs. If the man searching through the apartment upstairs had finished and was coming down, being on the elevator with him would be awkward, like messy awkward, which Sean hoped to avoid as much as possible. He'd already made a mess at the hotel in Morocco. He'd promised himself he wouldn't leave a huge body count everywhere he went if it could be helped, in spite of the fact that the nature of some of his future missions might require it.
He arrived at the end of the hallway and pushed through the stairwell door. His eyes shot up and then down to make sure no one was in there like the day before in Agadir. It was clear, and he rushed down the stairs. Fluorescent lights lining the underside of the stairs made it easy for him to see as he descended.
When he reached the bottom, Sean slowed his pace as he entered the building's lobby. He scanned the room as he walked quickly from the back of the facility to the entrance/exit. A blonde woman was grabbing mail from one of the bronze boxes on the far left wall, but other than that, the lobby was empty.
He pushed through the front door and walked out onto the street. The fresh air filled his lungs again, mingled with a slight hint of car exhaust, bread from the bakery across the street, and a waft of coffee.
He'd planned to do some research at the coffee shop, but now the plan had changed.
With a quick check in both directions to make sure no cars were coming, Sean sprinted across the road, through a small black fenced gate on the other side, and slowed as he entered the coffee shop. He found a seat at one of the tinted windows and pretended to look through it.
A frail-looking brunette girl with a brown apron and white button-up shirt came over to where he was sitting.
She asked him in German if he would like something to drink.
He replied fluently in a polite but curt tone, ordering a cappuccino.
She smiled at him as she walked away, making a note of his order.
He didn't care about the drink. All Sean needed was the seat with a view of the apartment complex. Someone had left a newspaper on the counter next to him. He picked it up and pretended to read the business section, keeping the paper over the bottom half of his face. He peered over the top of it, intensely watching the apartment building's front doors.
The girl returned in less than four minutes with his drink. "Danke," he said the German word for thank you and offered her a grateful smile.
She blushed a little and nodded before slinking back to the coffee bar.
Sean didn't let her see him roll his eyes. She was half his age. Maybe. It was hard to tell anymore.
He took a small sip of the milk and espresso and continued to focus on the building across the way.
Five more minutes and half the cappuccino later, Sean saw the man appear through the entrance. He'd not seen the face before, and now he wasn't wearing gloves, but the man's red shirtsleeve had been visible when entering Dr. Ott's unit, and that was enough for Sean. Now the guy stuck out like a sore thumb. His hair was dark with thick waves. He had the stern face of someone who rarely found humor in things, and a thin layer of stubble from ear to ear.
The man looked in both directions as he stepped onto the street. He appeared to be looking for something or someone. He turned and started walking to the right, heading back toward the center of town. Sean took another sip of his coffee, left enough euros on the counter to cover his tab and a small tip and walked out.
Sean stayed on the opposite side of the street to the man he was following. While he was in pursuit, he decided it would be a good opportunity to multitask. If he was on the phone, it would disguise his presence slightly in case the man knew who Sean was and what he was up to. Plus, it would give Sean a chance to get the ball rolling on the research side of things.
He slid the phone out of his pocket and flipped through a few of his recent calls, finding the ID he was looking for he hit the green call button.
A few rings later, a man on the other end answered. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the amazing Sean Wyatt."
"Listen, Tommy. I have something I need you to look into." He cut through the niceties and went straight to business.
"Okay, buddy. Everything all right?"
"At the moment. I'm trying to find some information on a Nazi experiment. I think the device they were constructing was called die Glocke."
"Die Glocke?" Tommy made sure he'd heard correctly.
"Yeah. It's German."
"I figured that when you said the word, Nazi."
"Right." Sean shook his head.
"You sound out of breath."
Sean was breathing hard, though it wasn't from the pace of his pursuit. He was walking fast, but he was trying to focus on not losing his quarry. It was the intensity of the chase that caused him to take in short bursts of air.