Victor used the stethoscope and listened carefully for the clicks — one when the nose of the lever fell into the notch, called the right click, and a second when the nose exited the notch, called the left click. The numbers on the dial corresponded to these clicks, and the space between them was called the contact area.
Once he had determined where the contact area was, Victor set the dial to the exact opposite position, known as parking the wheels. Then, slowly, he turned the dial clockwise. Each time the dial passed the parking position there was a small click. Victor counted how many clicks there were before they ceased. Victor counted three clicks, one for each wheel, so he knew he was dealing with a safe that had a three-number combination.
Victor reset the safe by turning the dial clockwise several times. He then parked the wheels at zero and slowly turned it counterclockwise. Each time there was a click, one for both the left and right side of the notch, he plotted the numbers on a graph until he had completed a single circumference.
He started the process again, resetting the wheels, slowly turning the dial counterclockwise, but starting at three numbers counterclockwise from zero. This way meant that the contact area where the lever and notch met would be different. He again plotted the position of the clicks on the graph.
Victor repeated the process at intervals of three until all the points on the dial had been plotted. Finally, the laborious and painstaking process was finished and he had two graphs, one showing the positions of the left clicks, the other showing the positions of the right clicks. He joined up the points until he had two zigzags.
The numbers plotted on the two graphs converged exactly at three points, one for each wheel and therefore combination number. Victor made a note of these three numbers and wrote them down in all six different combination possibilities. He tried them out one at a time. On the fourth combination the safe opened. He looked at his watch. It had taken him seventy minutes. Not bad.
Inside the safe were five taped stacks of cash, a folder, and a bottle of gin. Each stack of cash equalled five thousand euros. Victor placed them in the backpack and opened the folder. It was full of files. They followed the cash. He exited the office and began descending the stairs.
Paperwork had never been Victor’s strong point, but the broker would be able to dissect the files in no time and find out what they needed. He was glad he’d teamed up with her. Alone he would have never gotten this far. He would still be running blind, going nowhere, waiting for the CIA to find him. Several times she had proved herself to be an extremely valuable associate — partner even, though it felt strange to accept that she was.
He didn’t want to admit it, but she was more than just that. Not a friend yet, but a companion, someone he actually wanted to talk to, though he still found it difficult to communicate with her. This was partly because of the effect she had on him and partly because of Victor’s nature. When he played a role, he could be articulate and charming with the opposite sex if it was necessary, but when playing himself he was clumsy and awkward. He was badly out of practice, though he had never really been in practice.
He’d been denying the attraction, but he knew it was there. His gaze lingered on her whenever she wasn’t looking. The glimpses of her body made his pulse quicken more than any hooker ever had. But it wasn’t just the desire she stirred in him. She was the only woman in his life, ever in his life, who knew what he really was, and even knowing that she didn’t look at him with disgust. Before he’d left he even saw empathy in her face as she looked at him, even if compassion didn’t normally sit well with his loner survivalist mentality.
Victor had told himself over and over that he didn’t need anyone in his life, for anything. Maybe that had been the case once, but maybe it was wrong now. Or perhaps it had always just been easier to convince himself that he didn’t need anyone than to admit the truth.
He exited the warehouse, realizing he was looking forward to seeing her when he got back to the hotel. He frowned. It was a bad idea, Victor told himself, don’t go there.
Only he wasn’t listening to that particular voice any more.
CHAPTER 64
01:1 °CET
Rebecca yawned. Her eyes were sore. He’d been gone about an hour, and she had no idea when he was coming back. He had been evasive when she had pressed him for a time. As long as it takes, was the best answer he gave her. She wanted to be awake when he came back, so she picked up the phone and called room service for a triple espresso. If that didn’t keep her awake, nothing would.
She had settled on watching a news channel. It helped her eyelids stay up, even if the stories held no interest for her. Hurry up and get back, she thought. She didn’t like being on her own, even in the relative safety of the hotel room. Don’t open the door to anyone, he’d told her. She was starting to find his paranoia unbearable.
But then she had seen his scars. It had been a revelation. Rebecca couldn’t imagine the kind of existence that would cause someone to carry so many injuries. And if he carried that may physical wounds, how many psychological scars were there inside his head? She realized, almost to her amazement, that she actually felt sorry for him.
She thought back to what happened in the bar, the way he’d intervened on her behalf. Was that because he actually wanted to help, or was it just to maintain their low profile? At the time she’d been insulted that he hadn’t let her fight her own battle, thinking maybe even hitmen could have chivalry, misplaced as it was, but then she had realized he was more than likely just protecting himself by keeping her out of trouble. Now, she was sure he had simply been looking out for her and that thought touched her.
Twice now he had, in a way, rescued her. She smiled. Like a guardian angel. Though a guardian angel of death would be a better description.
Would he kill her when this was all over? It was a question she’d asked herself a dozen times or more over the last few days. Initially, even after he’d said she would never see him again, Rebecca had expected he would put a bullet in her skull the second he didn’t need her any more. The idea of seducing him in an effort to keep her off his list of targets had once been in the cards — she’d seen the way he looked at her — but she hadn’t had the courage.
Now, after the way he’d avoided telling her his name, she was certain he didn’t intend to kill her. If he’d told her, she would become even more of a risk to him, and his professional mentality would force him to eliminate that risk. He didn’t want to do that. Maybe he had once planned to kill her but not any more. She smiled at that, knowing he liked her, even if he would never admit it.
She was under no illusion about who he was or what he did for a living, but maybe there was something approaching a human being behind all that, after all. Maybe, when this was all over, she might find out what that human being looked like.
When her coffee arrived she was already half asleep. Rebecca opened the door and took the cup and saucer from the guy, her eyes squinting from the hallway lights behind him. She went back into the room to get some money for a tip.
Turning around she saw that he was now inside the door. Though her vision was blurry she realized he looked too old to be a hotel waiter. His hair was black but his skin tone was light, not Greek. Suddenly afraid, she stepped back away from him, further into the room.
His expression showed nothing as he closed the door behind him. He moved forward smoothly, unrushed. She saw his eyes: icy blue. They were the eyes of a man without a soul.