“Stand by, stand by, green light on. Romeo One and Two crossing left to right, halfway.”
Once over the road they continued straight up toward the station and disappeared. “That’s them straight and toward the station, unsighted to me. H, acknowledge.”
“H has, on the right toward the station, sixty short.”
The lights at the crossing had turned red again. I joined two women and more kids with backpacks. The kids were shoving baguettes into their mouths as if they hadn’t eaten since last Tuesday. Hubba-Hubba came on the net, and for the first time I had to put my hand over the earpiece as a couple of trucks screamed past. It was a big no-no, but I didn’t have a choice.
“H still has, halfway to the station, still aware.”
The green light flashed and my new school friends and I crossed. It was a good sign that the Romeos were aware. I hoped it meant they hadn’t spotted us, rather than that they were in fact very switched on, and about to take us to an amusement park or shopping center to push us around or, even worse, take us into an ambush.
I reached the other side of the road and turned uphill, leaving Hubba-Hubba to continue the take.
“H has, still on the right, approaching the station.”
The Romeos disappeared right, into the parking area in front of the station as Hubba-Hubba continued his commentary. “That’s at the station, wait, wait…at the first set of doors. That’s now complete (inside the station) and unsighted to me. I’m going foxtrot. N, acknowledge.”
Click, click.
He would now be taking a position that would give him a view of both the platforms, so we’d know whether they were aiming for Monaco or Nice.
I spotted Hubba-Hubba’s empty Scudo van just past the entrance. He was out here somewhere, trying to get the trigger, making sure the Romeos didn’t see him or, just as important, the third party who might wonder what this weird Arab guy was up to.
The drivers at the taxi stand were still leaning against their Mercs, smoking and putting the world to rights. The multicolored flower beds nearby were still getting a good sprinkling.
Taking my time, I wandered past the first of the two glass doors, hoping to get a glimpse of the Romeos, maybe by a ticket machine or the kiosk. But there was no sign of them in this half of the foyer, and I didn’t want to walk in myself and risk being seen.
I plunked myself on the wooden bench outside, between the two sets of doors, hoping the train wasn’t due just yet. “H, can you see them?”
There was a pause. “No, just the far end of the platforms. They could still be complete.”
Click, click.
A garbage truck approached from my right, and I could hear it change gear through the radio as Hubba-Hubba spoke. He must be up there in the far parking lot. I decided I’d give it a minute or two to see if he spotted them; if not, I’d have no alternative but to go in. They should have bought a ticket by now and, with luck, would be out there on the platform.
I dug out my hundred-franc notes and stood up, making sure the zipper of my fanny pack was still shut, and the Browning was still tucked well into my jeans.
I hit the pressle.
“N is going complete the station. H, acknowledge.”
Click, click.
“L, stand by.”
Click, click.
I walked through the second set of doors by the newsstand in case they were still on the concourse, and stepped around the little rat dogs that were still guarding the newsstand. My head was down, hat on, not looking for faces, just dark suit pants. I couldn’t see the Romeos anywhere. That was good, and that was also bad.
I stopped at the coffee machine and bought myself a cappuccino, then eyed the snack machine and selected a couple of muffin-type things covered with sugary goo as the plastic cup fell into place waiting to be filled.
Hubba-Hubba came up on the net as I bent down and watched the coffee fall into the cup and pulled the muffin wrapping apart with my teeth, getting the goo on my chin. “That’s both Romeos on the platform, your side, the station-side platform.”
Chapter 32
The dogs tied up by the newsstand gave me the evil eye as I reached inside my coat.
Click, click.
Some people bought tickets from the touch-screen machines, some headed straight through the double glass doors onto the platform, but there was no one hovering around like me, trying to shove the last of a muffin into their mouth without getting most of the topping over their front, while attempting to keep out of the Romeos’ line of sight. They were out there somewhere, on the other side of the wall the coffee machine stood against. And, so far, it looked as if they were going to Monaco. They’d have to go over a footbridge for trains to Nice, Cannes, and all stops to Marseille.
Four more people went through to the platform. They had to file between two steel posts about three feet high. There was a resounding clunk each time a ticket got fed into the slot and was validated.
The coffee machine had finished clearing its throat. I took a sip from the steaming plastic cup as I walked over to the touch-screen ticket machines, and looked out to the platforms to see if I could spot the collectors. The only people in sight were two train workers with brimmed caps and beer bellies.
I touched the screen for a one-way to Monaco, then bought another to Cannes. I didn’t know which of the three locations these people were heading for. They might even do all three today, or none of them. Perhaps they really were just meeting some of their pals for tennis.
If the destination was Nice, I’d just use the Cannes ticket and get off earlier. My tickets were still printing out as Hubba-Hubba came on the air. I could tell by the noise of traffic and his disjointed speech that he was walking fast. “Too much third party, I’m going complete. They are definitely on the Monaco side, definitely on the Monaco side.”
I double-clicked him as I went and checked the timetables. The Monaco train was due in ten minutes’ time, at twelve-forty-one.
It would take much longer to get to Monaco by road at this time of day than the thirteen minutes it took by train, but Lotfi was waiting for me to press the button. The plan was that he’d drive to the underground parking garage by the Palais de la Scala and be ready to receive the two Romeos if I screwed up on the follow and lost them, while Hubba-Hubba tried to catch up. I needed the latter here for the time being, just in case the Romeos changed direction after Lotfi had taken off for Monaco. I made my decision.
I ran my finger down the timetable like a puzzled tourist. “L?” I got two clicks. “Go now, go now. Acknowledge.”
I could hear the engine already turning over while his pressle was down.
“L is mobile.”
He’d have just twenty minutes to get there. I hoped he didn’t get caught behind a truck on the narrow road.
Hubba-Hubba kept it brief. He knew I was in the station, and might therefore be surrounded by people.
“H is complete and has the trigger on the station exit. Do not acknowledge.”
The timetable remained very interesting for a while as a middle-aged couple chatted with the guy at the newsstand, and played with the demented little dogs; then I turned my attention to some ads for sun-soaked vacations in Mauritius for something like seven hundred bucks a night, and decided that Cape Cod was more my kind of place.
The couple said their good-byes to the guy and cooed over his dogs one last time before moving over to the glass doors and clunking in their tickets. As they passed through to the platform, I could hear the train, right on time. The rumble on the tracks got louder and the dogs growled as the train stopped with a squeal of brakes. I clunked my ticket and waited by the validation posts until I could hear electric doors slide open and people say their French good-byes. Only then did I walk onto the platform, without looking left or right, and climb into the first train car I saw.