Page 73 of Shadow of Doubt

“I only have credit cards,” said Brunelle.

Reluctantly, Gibert reached for his wallet. “How much?”

“Twenty each will probably do it.”

“No way,” the cop replied. “Here’s fifty. They can take it or leave it.”

“An assholeandcheap,” said MoMo as he snatched the fifty-euro note and strode onto the field.

Brunelle stifled a laugh as she and Gibert watched MoMo go chat with the kids.

Soon enough, he pulled out his cell phone and showed them something, presumably CCTV images of the two men they were looking for. One of the kids then took out his own phone and showed something to MoMo.

They chatted for a few more minutes before MoMo handed over the fifty euros and walked back to Brunelle and Gibert.

“The men we’re looking for parked a second vehicle here. They paid those kids to keep an eye out and make sure nothing happened to it.”

“That was their getaway car,” said Gibert. “After they torched the Peugeot.”

MoMo nodded.

“Did the kids tell you anything about the men themselves?” Brunelle asked.

“They were in their forties. Spoke terrible French. Heavily accented. One of the kids said the men sounded Russian. And one was walking with a limp.”

“Definitely our guys,” Gibert replied. “Anything about the other car?”

MoMo smiled and held up his phone. “One of the kids took a picture of it.”

CHAPTER 34

SAINT-JEAN-CAP-FERRAT

Harvath’s plan was to have everyone in place before Eva and Inessa arrived at the restaurant. In his experience, people already seated in a venue attracted a lot less attention than people walking in.

Parked at the bar, he sipped a beer and enjoyed a plate of grilled octopus as he quietly monitored all phases of the operation via his phone.

Just north of Eze, in the harbor of Beaulieu-sur-Mer, Barton had picked up Preisler and the Ukrainian commandos, and had sailed up the coast for Monaco.

Back in Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat, Palmer and Ashby had hung around the port until they had seen Tsybulsky and his security detail board his yacht and depart.

Once the vessel had cleared the outer wall of the harbor, Ashby texted Harvath and then she and Palmer walked up to Muse, where they had been able to secure an indoor table. Leaning slightly to his left, Harvath could see them from where he was sitting.

Outside, several doors down from the restaurant, Staelin and Haney sat in the G-Wagon, keeping watch over the entrance. On the stool immediately next to Harvath was Grechko.

Despite the space being the perfect temperature, the Russian defector had a film of perspiration across his brow.

“Here,” Harvath said as he handed him a cocktail napkin. “Wipe your forehead. You’re sweating.”

“Thank you,” replied Grechko, taking the napkin. “I must look ratherfoolish to you. A man of my age, giving up everything for a younger woman who might not want anything to do with him.”

“I suppose in a perfect world,” Harvath stated as he took another sip of his beer, “when two people need to jump, they jump together. But life isn’t always perfect, is it? Sometimes one of those people must have enough trust for both of them and jump first.”

The Russian liked the sound of that and nodded in approval. “Well said. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I’m just doing my job.”

“You’re actually showing human compassion,” the Russian remarked. “Technically, you could sit there and not say a word to me and it wouldn’t violate the spirit of our agreement.”

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