“It’ll come to us,” Sean said coolly.
His friend was less optimistic. “It’ll come to us? That’s your plan? During the flight here you couldn’t think of something better than that? I told you we needed a plan.”
“Relax, Tommy. We need to see if the—” Sean stopped in midsentence.
“Need to see if what?” his friend asked.
Sean kept smiling and kept his demeanor level. “I think right now would be a good time for you to see some of the other parts of Copenhagen.”
“What?” Tommy asked. The bewilderment on his face twisted it into an odd shape. “What are you talking about?”
Adriana caught on first, following Sean’s eyes across the plaza to the shape of a muscular man in a black toboggan and red windbreaker. It was a face they’d seen before in England. One of Petrov’s goons. Either he or someone else was in charge now, but there was no mistaking the face.
“Good idea,” she agreed and grabbed Sean by the arm and looping her forearm through. She pulled close and put her head on his shoulder to give the impression they were just two lovers strolling through the plaza with a friend.
Tommy quickly realized what had changed their minds about the train trip, spotting the red windbreaker a moment after their unusual behavior. “You know what, I think you’re right. Why don’t we take a walk over to the Stroget? I hear there are lots of things to see and do in that area.”
“Absolutely,” Sean agreed and veered left, going through the crosswalk to the square’s center. He kept smiling as he spoke. “There will be a ton of people over there, at least there usually is. We might be able to lose them and circle back around to the station.”
The three made their way past one of the seemingly infinite number of bicycle stands and across the next street where they made a right and proceeded toward the next intersection. They quickened their pace slightly, trying to appear less in a hurry while putting some distance between themselves and red jacket. On the other side of the road, people milled about, taking pictures of the Hard Rock Cafe. Farther down the sidewalk, they passed the entrance to the half amusement park, half concert park called Tivoli. The roller coasters and other rides sat silent in the cold, probably closed until the spring weather warmed a little more.
Ahead, another huge plaza opened up. To the right, the old Rathaus government building rose up from the flat space. Its appearance was strikingly similar to the train station, featuring the same brick, angled slate roofs, and steeple. Looking around, Tommy realized there were many buildings that featured the same kind of architectural design. Other structures were built in the Dutch tradition with high A-frames atop the multicolored façades, a result of Danish admiration of Dutch culture several hundred years prior.
Throngs of people milled about on the plaza flat, while a steady stream of them entered and exited a particular street between an American fast food restaurant and an American convenience store.
“That’s where we’ll lose them,” Sean said, barely giving a pointed nod with his head.
Adriana pulled out her phone and handed it to Tommy. “Here. Take a picture so we can take a look and see if they’re following us.” She passed him the device, putting on her best fake smile.
Tommy took the phone as Sean and Adriana huddled close together in the center of the square. He snapped a few pictures, as if he were a common tourist before handing the phone back to Adriana.
“Thank you so much,” she said sweetly and in a way that any lip reader would understand.
“Did you see them?” Tommy asked.
“Yep,” Sean said as he turned and started walking arm-in-arm with Adriana. “And now there’s at least two of them.”
“How far back?”
The three stopped at a crosswalk and waited for the signal to change. None of them dared turn around lest they give away their one advantage. Twenty seconds oozed by like dark Danish syrup on a January morning. Finally, the big orange numbers hit zero, and the small group of people crossed in front of a growing line of cars and bicycles.
Sean gave a quick look to both sides, glancing down the sidewalk to see if anyone might be trying to cut them off. He sensed several other pedestrians behind them as they strolled onto the Stroget and were enveloped by the mob. The cavernous walls of shops, retail outlets, cafes, apartments, and restaurants herded the throng through like cattle. If they weren’t trying to lose a few men who likely wanted to kill them, Sean would have taken in the sights and smells of a city he loved dearly.
The scent of slow-cooked meat and onions drifted through their nostrils from a shawarma place on the left side of the street. Soon, the aromas of a Danish coffee shop replaced the salty, meaty aroma.
Now Sean decided to risk a look back, feeling confident that the hundreds of people around them provided some cover. He glanced over his shoulder and quickened his pace noticeably.
“You see ’em?” Tommy asked.
“Nope. Let’s pick it up. Don’t run yet. We should be able to put some distance between us and them.”
“Should we duck into one of these shops?” Adriana suggested.
“Yeah, but not yet. There are some better hiding places up ahead. These have too many clear windows. I have a spot in mind.”
They walked faster, almost at a slow jog. Moving was difficult, and more than once Sean or Tommy bumped into a morning shopper with a bag or two. They quickly apologized and pushed on, winding their way through the seemingly endless rows of buildings lining the street.
The three proceeded this way, bobbing in and out of other pedestrians, for five more minutes until they reached a spot where the street began to open up at a three-way intersection. A street performer was break dancing in front of an Irish pub, and a few tourists gawked and plopped money into a hat sitting near his stereo.
Just past the pub was a small bookstore Sean had visited once before. It was run by an American expatriate. He was a nice guy, and Sean had enjoyed talking with him on his last visit to the city. He’d discovered the little shop by accident, and seeing some of the selection through the window and having a penchant for old books, Sean had to go inside. The man was a few years older than Sean and had a strange name. He couldn’t remember it right off the top of his head, but he recalled thinking the name sounded funny. He had a feeling the American would help them, but as they neared the store, he saw that the lights were off and that they weren’t open at the moment.
Sean turned around quickly. “Plan A is closed, let’s duck into this coffee shop.” He pointed at a cafe on the other side of the Irish pub. It had an old wooden sign hanging from an iron arm over the door. Turning back was a risky move, but they should have at least created a little space between themselves and the men following them.
The three pushed through the wooden door and hurried inside. Their nostrils instantly filled with the smell of fresh-brewed coffee and the nutty aromas of roasted coffee beans. The blonde girl in an apron behind the bar welcomed them with a smile and a few words in Danish.
“Vi taler ikke Dansk,” Sean said to her in Danish, rapidly explaining that they didn’t speak the native language. “Can we help ourselves to a table?”
“Of course,” she answered, her bright-white smile never wavering. She motioned to the room through an arched doorway. “There are plenty of seats available. Would you like to order something first?”
“Three cappuccinos,” he said and placed a twenty kroner on the counter. “Keep the change.” They rushed through the doorway and into the larger sitting room, the whole time trying not to look like they were in a hurry. The windows in the street-side wall didn’t expose the cafe to a lot of curious eyes from outside. The dark curtains also prohibited an inside view of the cafe from the street.