A double door at the back of the foyer, the one that led into what they assumed was Gravois's apartment, would be their first real challenge. Hugo raised an eyebrow and looked at Tom.
“Easy,” nodded Tom.
“Easy?” Garcia protested. “You haven't seen the lock yet.”
“I know,” Tom said. “I'm assuming there's a key under the mat.”
Once they were through the double doors, they would have to decide whether to split up or tackle the L-shaped floor plan together. A long hallway split the L into two distinct wings. On the left side lay three rooms, on the right side two more. Judging from their sizes and layouts, Hugo guessed that the rooms on the back left of the apartment were probably the kitchen and a bathroom. The room nearest the front of the house was likely a dining room. That would be the first door on their left as they entered the apartment.
On the right side of the L, Hugo guessed, was the living room and, behind it, the bedroom. From the schematic, he could see that the central hallway went straight through to the back door, which opened into a green space shared by all the houses on the street, roughly half an acre. A perfect escape route, he thought, giving access to the back door of every house in the street or, alternatively, to a gate at the back of the little park that led into an alleyway that curved around and opened up into Rue Audran.
“Interesting,” Tom said. “Doesn't look like there's a way to get to the second floor from inside the apartment.” He pointed at the tiny map. “You have to go out to the foyer and up the shared stairs.”
“I don't understand,” said Garcia. “Why would they rent two floors that aren't connected?”
“Insulation,” Hugo said. “I'd guess the second floor is empty except for security cameras, maybe sensors.” Garcia's face was blank, uncomprehending. Hugo said, “They use the first floor for whatever operation they are running. It's the easiest floor to escape from in case of an emergency. They use the second floor to make sure they aren't spied on. To make sure no one can overhear them. And possibly for storage.”
“They may have built a ladder or makeshift staircase inside,” Tom said. “Nothing substantial because they wouldn't want to attract attention, not if they can help it.” He looked at Hugo. “So keep your fucking eyes open, just in case someone pops down from upstairs. You want to sweep the place together?”
“Yeah, sure,” Hugo said. That meant they'd work back-to-back, clearing one side of the apartment and then the other. With no way to communicate, no radios or other equipment, splitting up to tackle a wing each would be too dangerous. “Everyone happy?” Hugo asked. He looked at Claudia, who was still pale and wide-eyed, her fingers working the strap of her bag. But she forced a smile and nodded that she was OK. “Good,” he said. “Then let's go.”
The three men stepped out of the car, closed the doors quietly behind them, and began walking.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Rue Véron was as Claudia had described it. Narrow, clean, and hemmed in on both sides by five- and six-story buildings, all with the gray stone façade that made up so many Paris streets.
They took the sidewalk on the same side of the road as the target house. Hugo led, with Garcia in the middle and Tom at the back. They walked in silence, the only sound their footfalls on the concrete, echoing softly off the stone buildings around them. Hugo scanned the street, looking for sentries. He felt confident that there wouldn't be any, simply because men lurking in residential streets attracted the wrong kind of attention. Gravois would probably rely on the house's anonymity for his security.
Number 21 sat on the corner of Rues Véron and Audran and was the only house with both a gate and greenery in the front. The gate was part of an iron railing that separated the sidewalk from the grass on both sides of the corner lot. Inside the rails, shoulder-high rhododendron bushes blocked the view out of, and into, the front windows of the first-floor apartment.
Hugo paused outside the gate and looked up and down the street. He pointed down Rue Audran to the alleyway between the houses that led to the shared park at the back of the apartments. Garcia nodded and made for it. Hugo waited until he'd disappeared from view and then swung the gate open and started down the short path. He was surprised to find the heavy front door unlocked. Behind him, Tom stuck two tools back into his coat pocket and shrugged.
They went into the small foyer, bare except for a worn rug on the hardwood floor. To their right a staircase led upward, just as the plans had shown. In front of them were the double doors to Gravois's apartment, and Tom moved quickly to them. He put his ear to the doors for a moment, then gently tried the handle. Locked. He pulled out a long, thin tool shaped like a dentist's pick and another, much like a flathead screwdriver. The pick and tension wrench, Hugo remembered. Just like old times.
Tom moved quickly and quietly. He inserted the tension wrench and turned it the same way he'd turn the key, offsetting the internal mechanism from its housing. He then went to work with the pick, locating the five pins inside the tumbler and pushing them into the lock's housing.
Five barely audible clicks and they were in.
Tom pulled his weapon and looked over his shoulder, making sure Hugo had his gun in hand, too. When Hugo nodded, Tom cracked the door and both men listened.
Nothing.
Tom stepped inside and Hugo moved in next to him, closing the door quietly behind them. A thick carpet ran the length of the hallway in front of them. Tom moved silently toward the dining room on their left, his gun extended, and Hugo followed, covering the hallway, his eyes on the closed door to his right, the door to the living room. The dining room was dark, the watery sunlight filtered out by a layer of grime on the windows. But it was light enough for the men to see a long table and a dozen chairs, all covered in a thick layer of dust.
They cleared the room in seconds, then swept through the kitchen and bathroom. The door from the bathroom to the hallway was locked. Rather than take the time to pick it, they went back through the dining room. Hugo led, checking that the hallway was still empty before moving to the living room door. It had a large glass knob. He rested his left hand on it, his gun up by his face. Tom squeezed his shoulder to tell him he was ready and Hugo slowly turned the knob. It rotated easily and Hugo held his breath as the lever slipped back and the door cracked open.
Behind him, Tom counted down in a whisper, “Three, two, one—”
Hugo kicked the base of the door. As it crashed into the inside wall, he moved fast. He went to the left, Tom to the right, both crouching, their guns extended. This room was darker than the others had been. A thin band of light around the window to his right told Hugo that the curtains had been pulled shut. With his back to the wall, he could see well enough to pick out the furniture and possible ambush spots. Opposite him was the fireplace, and between it and him was a long, low sofa.
Hugo looked to his right, where bookshelves lined the wall on either side of the curtained window. He saw Tom's silhouette in front of the shelves and watched as his friend crept forward for a clear view of the space between the sofa and the fireplace. Hugo covered that spot with his gun, in case of a trap.
When Tom gestured that it was safe, Hugo swiveled to his left and trained his gun on an armoire, the only other piece of furniture in the room. It was seven feet tall and sat in the corner of the room, but Hugo wondered whether there was space just the other side of it, space enough for a man with a gun. Out of the corner of his eye, Hugo saw Tom by the fireplace, covering the corner for him. The space cleared, they met by the closed bedroom door.