"How long you think you'll be?" he asked when he reached Sean's side.
"A few hours, hopefully no longer." Sean truly had no idea how long his search would take, nor if it would be fruitful. Fortunately, he had the entire day to work his magic. He had a bad feeling he was going to need it. Concern returned to his heart and fell into his stomach as he checked the timer on his phone. He only had seven hours left to find what the terrorists wanted or Dr. Ott was dead.
He gave another quick check to see if Emily had updated the status of the operation, but there was nothing from her on his phone. Sean had hoped the Black Ring would contact her so she could negotiate an extension. No luck on that front so far. Most of the time, terrorist groups wouldn't negotiate anything. They simply wanted to prove a point and put fear into the hearts of ordinary people. Not the Black Ring. They were after something, and Sean needed to find it before it was too late. At some point, he was going to have to figure out how to take them down. That little detail would have to wait.
Sean walked to shore with Dothan. There was a padlock on the shack's door, which the pilot immediately set to unlocking so he could get inside out of the cold.
While he watched Dothan working on the lock, Sean asked him if he would be okay with keeping his rucksack and backpack. "I don't want to get bogged down with them. There's just a few clothes and my laptop for the most part," he explained.
"Sure. I'm not going anywhere until you're ready to leave." He unfastened the lock and hung it loosely on the latch before pushing the door open. He put a hand out and grabbed Sean's things then disappeared inside. A second later, he reappeared. "Stay warm out there. Give me a holler if you need anything. Surprisingly, I get cell service out here."
"Will do."
The initial part of the walk into town was blustery and frigid. When he reached a sidewalk that wrapped around the city's natural bay, the wind was cut down significantly from the barrier the surrounding hillsides and ridges provided.
San Sebastián was one of the most unique and picturesque places Sean had ever visited, which was saying something since he'd travelled all over the world. The city's buildings, mostly condos and apartments near the coast, rose up from just beyond the horseshoe-shaped beach, clumped together thickly at first, then scattering as the sprawl stretched into the hills and mountains beyond. Evergreen trees grew in patches going up the slopes amid sparse clusters of barren hardwood trees that looked like skeletons of their summer selves.
A blanket of heavy clouds began to roll in from the west, covering the sky in a gloomy shade of gray. When Sean had checked the forecast the night before, it had predicted partly cloudy skies, but no precipitation was expected. Now he wasn't so certain. He picked up the pace, striding fast down the sidewalk. He looked up at some of the homes built atop the ridge looming over him. Their views must have been spectacular on a clear, warm day. Skinny trees and tall grasses blew in the wind along the walkway when an occasional gust snuck by the bay's hillside barricade.
It took nearly fifteen minutes for Sean to reach the comfort of the city, but when he did, he found it was almost a ghost town. Hundreds of cars were parked along the streets and in various parking lots, but very few pedestrians were to be seen. An occasional person appeared, walking quickly down the street and just as rapidly turning into a building to escape the cold.
Another burst of wind, howling through the street corridor and sinking deep into his bones, reminded him just how badly he needed to find a coat. He reached one of the condominiums that he'd seen from the other side of the bay and decided to step inside to ask for help.
Once in the lobby, he found a doorman standing in full uniform, with a hat that looked like it would be more at home on an army general. The man's light-brown skin, dark hair, and matching mustache reminded Sean of one of his friends from college. While his friend had been athletic and extremely fit, this version looked twenty years older, and much less in shape. He stood near a central column in the room. The floors were covered in a gorgeous sandstone tile. A few brushed bronze sconces illuminated the sides of the room while a dome-shaped chandelier hung from the ceiling by a framework of wrought iron.
"Buenos dias," Sean greeted the doorman in Spanish.
The man smiled and returned the greeting then asked, "How may I help you?"
Sean was grateful for his skills in languages. They'd proven their worth a thousand times over. "I'm looking for a place to buy a new coat. I forgot to pack one when I embarked on my vacation, and it is very cold outside."
The man's smile continued to beam, though he flashed a momentary look of concern. "Yes, sir. It is terribly cold outside. You definitely need a coat thicker than this," he pointed at Sean's windbreaker. "There is a shop two blocks from here that should have everything you need. They sell ski equipment and apparel during the winter."
"Excellent," Sean said. "Thank you so much."
"No problem, sir."
Sean gave a polite nod and exited the building.
It only took him ten minutes to reach the building, find a suitable coat, and make the purchase. The young woman at the counter eyed him suspiciously, perhaps wondering what he'd been expecting as far as the weather was concerned.
"Lost my other coat," he explained in Spanish, to which she simply smiled and bid him good day.
Before he reached the exit, Sean took out his phone and pulled up the address for Alfred Wolfz's home. He tapped the link on the screen and then hit the button for directions. A route appeared with a blue line that started with him taking the street to the right, winding through a few more side streets, and eventually ending about a mile away, closer to the foot of the mountains.
He zipped up the warm, fluffy coat and stepped back into the cold. He'd also purchased a small cap to keep his head and ears warm, and tugged it down tight over his hair. With his new gear, the wind didn't seem nearly as biting, though it still stung his face as he walked up the sidewalk before making a left across the street. He wound his way through a series of back alleys and side streets until the taller buildings were left behind and he found himself in an area filled with two- and three-story homes. Most of them had faded white walls with terracotta rooftops. They were packed tightly together, resembling larger cities he'd visited across the globe, though the number of homes was much smaller, making it feel more like a little brother to a town like Barcelona.
A quick look at his phone told him that the home he was looking for was at the end of this particular street. He put the device back in his pocket and continued walking, counting down the address numbers that hung next to the doorsills. A minute later, Sean found the address he was looking for and crossed the vacant, cobbled street. He looked up at the residence, admiring the design of it. The roof hung slightly over the third story, sheltering two windows framed in red brick. The brick stood out darkly against the cream exterior walls.
Sean stopped at the brown, wooden door and took a quick glance in both directions. He took a step closer and knocked, but when he did so, the door creaked open a few inches. His eyebrows knit together in immediate concern. He stole another look down both sides of the street, but it was still empty. His fingers quietly unzipped his coat and disappeared inside, a second later revealing his pistol. It wasn't the first time he'd found a door ajar. Usually, it was a sign there was trouble.
He crept across the threshold and eased the door shut behind, careful not to let the bolt click as it slid into the housing. He took in his surroundings: a square-shaped foyer with floors covered in a reddish tile, almost the color of clay. The walls were covered in something that appeared to be a little like stucco. A few pieces of artwork hung from the walls. Next to him was a brass coat hanger and a tall, skinny black wooden table with a bowl on top. The container looked like it came from one of the local artisans. Its clay had been glazed over in a turquoise and olive-green color. A set of keys lay inside it.