I minus 35
Grant placed another ad in the personals early the next day, hoping to reach anyone who might be looking. At this point he wasn’t sure who was left alive in Warsaw. Obviously, the shooter was here, but who else? Best he could figure, the person he was trying to meet yesterday when the shooting happened was the only one that might be left. Oh, yeah, there was one more: the mystery person known only as Vladimir. However, since this guy never responded to any of the ads Granowli placed, there was no reliable way to contact him. Grant decided to place the ad anyway. Maybe this Vladimir would see the ad in the personals and respond with his own. He decided to start reading the ads today. If he could get in touch with this guy, he may have some helpful information. He phoned the paper and asked to speak to someone who knew English. It only took a few minutes to dictate the ad.
The next morning Grant confirmed his ad was in the morning paper and told Sam he was going out to meet the contact. He suggested Sam stay put in the hotel room.
“Make sure you take the gun,” Sam responded. “I’m a little nervous about you going out there alone.”
“Can’t be helped,” he responded. Then he put both hands on her shoulders and looked directly into her eyes. “Remember the rules. I’d rather you stay in, but if you do go out, stay in crowds and on the main street.” Sam nodded, saying nothing.
During the time Grant was gone, Sam spent most of the time reading. She had tried TV, but couldn’t understand anything that was said. She was running out of English reading material, though. Maybe she’d see if she could find a bookstore that sold books in English. The hotel was located in a busy commercial area and there had to be a bookstore around here somewhere. She’d ask the desk clerk later.
Meantime, Garcia, still dressed like a local laborer, but with different clothes and a large, fur, Russian-style hat, watched as Grant came out of the hotel’s revolving doors and got into a taxi. Garcia grabbed the next taxi in line and told the driver to follow Grant’s cab. The driver looked back over his shoulder and asked in heavily accented English, “Is this a joke?”
Garcia responded by handing the driver a US twenty dollar bill and saying, “Does this look like a joke? Just follow that cab.” The driver took the money and accelerated quickly, throwing Garcia into the back of his seat. Off they went down the street with a cloud of blue exhaust smoke trailing after them.
Garcia noticed that they were heading the same direction they did yesterday, but this time he’d be ready. No sitting at a bus stop. Keeping a close eye on the traffic around him, he was sure he wasn’t being followed. A block from the café, he had his cab go around the block to the far side of the park before letting him out. Then he wandered slowly through the park keeping Grant in sight. Garcia, unaware that Sam had also been shot at yesterday assumed she’d be covering Grant so he kept a sharp eye out for her. He doubted she’d be at the same bench two days in a row, but foot traffic was light and the park was the only vantage point where one could blend in and still keep the café in sight. As he walked through the park, he watched Grant drinking coffee and eating a pastry at the café. Garcia was chilled and the hot coffee looked good. There was no sign of either Sam or the guy who shot at him yesterday. After nearly an hour, Garcia watched as Grant stood up, left some currency on the table and hailed down a passing taxi. Obviously, the contact was a no show.