They were being watched at this very moment, Victor knew. He detected no shadows in the restaurant, which would be unnecessarily close, but they would be waiting outside, ready to follow him and Adrianna when they left.
He had an advantage — they had no idea he was on to them. When would they strike? He didn’t know. Probably not at his hotel. Hotels were notoriously difficult places for actions to go down — he knew that better than most — but that wouldn’t stop Kidon operatives. Mossad had successfully pulled off more hotel assassinations than anyone else. But they didn’t want to kill him — at least not yet. Otherwise they could have gunned him down outside the opera house the minute he’d been identified. They wanted answers first. They wanted to know who he was and who sent him and why. A kidnapping was more difficult than an assassination, so they would have to make an attempt on the streets, somewhere with the fewest possible witnesses to see him bundled into a van.
So long as Adrianna was with him Victor couldn’t escape the Kidon. Alone, he might have a chance.
‘So you see,’ he became aware Adrianna was saying, ‘I can’t quite decide between Columbia or Cambridge.’ She laughed. ‘Maybe I’ll do a PhD at both.’
‘It’s a tough decision,’ Victor said. He stood. ‘Excuse me for a minute.’
He headed to the restrooms, knowing the Kidon watchers outside would see him go, but they wouldn’t be worried because Adrianna was still sitting at the table, awaiting his return. While she sat there, Victor gained time.
The restaurant’s bathroom was compact and clean. A small window was set high in the back wall above the furthest stall. Victor entered it, knocked the lid down on the toilet, stood on it, worked the latch, and opened the window. Cool air flowed in and over his face. He peered into the alleyway beyond. It was dark but empty. The Kidon were watching the front. There was no reason to watch the back.
In three minutes they would start to wonder, in five they would begin to worry. By six, they would send someone inside to check. But with a six-minute head start he would be long gone, in a cab or on a bus, heading out of town. They wouldn’t catch him.
Their attention would turn to Adrianna as a solid link to him, even if she was anything but. They wouldn’t believe that she knew nothing about him. They would have to be convinced. He tried not to picture what they might do to her to extract information she didn’t have.
But together they couldn’t avoid them, and if Victor sent her away first it would only make them suspicious and any chance he had of escaping would vanish.
Victor didn’t have true friends. He cared about no one. It was one of the ways that kept him alive. His relationship with Adrianna was an act they both played, and she played it for money, nothing more. She used him like he used her. There was nothing else between them, nothing to stop him now.
He climbed through the window and into the night.
CHAPTER 61
Adrianna checked her watch. Emmanuel had been gone for over four minutes. She sipped her milky tea while observing the other diners around her. There were lots of couples, the odd family, everyone enjoying the food and having a good time. Indian waiters and waitresses effortlessly glided around the tightly packed tables, taking orders and delivering food with graceful ease.
She’d probably had one glass of rose too many with dinner and was feeling a little less composed than she would normally prefer to operate, but she was having a good time. That wasn’t an act. Her dinner had been delicious, the best meal she’d had in a long time. The mushroom matar hara pyaz was divine; so creamy. And the mango ice cream was just the thing to freshen the breath afterwards.
She finished the last of her tea while she thought about Emmanuel. The man of mystery, tall and lean, scars covering his athlete’s body, always alert, never truly relaxing, and with a falseness in his smile and a deadness in his eyes she pretended not to see. She wanted to give him a hug — a real hug — but that was a dangerous path to take with a client. Even if Emmanuel had always been a dream client. Always the perfect gentlemen. Always paid without a fuss. Never got jealous of her other clients. Never hit her. Never tried to make their arrangement into something it wasn’t. Never made her feel like a whore.
A young, smiling waiter stopped by her table and asked if she’d like anything else. She declined. After he’d gone Adrianna checked her watch again. Emmanuel had been gone over six minutes now.
She noticed a man entering the restaurant. He was slight of build, with pale skin and curly black hair. He seemed particularly under-dressed in jeans and a nylon jacket, and waved a hand to dismiss a waitress’s offer to seat him. Adrianna watched him as he headed for the restroom. He looked vaguely familiar, as if she’d seen him before but only in passing. Had he been on the same flight, or in the crowd at the airport when she landed? He glanced her way out of the corner of his eye, and Adrianna averted her own gaze so as not to be caught watching.
She turned her thoughts away from him, whoever he was, and back to Emmanuel. Adrianna had a strange feeling he wasn’t coming back, ridiculous as that idea was. It was just that extra glass of wine playing with her, she knew, but maybe she’d scared him off with all that talk of him being different last time they met. Had she upset him by claiming he’d changed? She should have known better than to get that personal with a client. The kind of men who paid her for company didn’t want her analysing them, especially a man as private and particular as Emmanuel.
Adrianna silently cursed herself for saying anything. Why had she? She knew the answer. Whatever the act they played, after Linz she had thought — no, feared — she wouldn’t see Emmanuel again.
Now that fear had returned. Again she checked her watch. Seven minutes. She wondered how long she should wait, and whether anyone would notice if she left without her date.
The man in the nylon jacket emerged from the bathroom. He looked flustered and drew a cell phone from a pocket as he hurried across the restaurant floor towards the door. She felt him looking at her again, but she was used to men looking her way. Not all of them knew how to do so without making it obvious.
The smiling waiter noticed her gesture and drifted over.
‘Anything else, madam?’
She shook her head. ‘Can I get the bill, please?’
‘Of course.’
A moment later a long leather folder was on the table and Adrianna opened her handbag to retrieve her purse. She withdrew a credit card.
‘Sorry I was so long.’
Adrianna looked up to see Emmanuel taking his seat opposite her. She hadn’t even noticed his approach. She felt equal parts relief and foolishness, but a large part of her work was maintaining her cool, whatever the situation.
‘Were you gone a long time?’ she asked. ‘I can’t say I noticed. I had the waiter bring the bill.’
‘Forget about that,’ he said, leaning closer. ‘I want you to listen to me very carefully, Adrianna. You must believe everything I tell you and do exactly as I say, without questions.’
He looked so serious it was almost funny. ‘Okay,’ she said, putting on an overly serious expression of her own. ‘I’m listening.’
Emmanuel said, ‘After we’ve finished talking, I want you to get up and go to the ladies’ restroom. Go into the far stall, put down the toilet seat and take off your shoes.’
‘My shoes?’
He ignored her. ‘Then stand on the toilet and open the window in the wall. If it won’t open then you’ll need to break it and use your handbag to clear out the glass. The next part will be difficult, but you have to do it as fast as you can. Don’t worry about getting dirty. You have to hurry.’
‘I don’t understand.’