PRAGUE, CZECH REPUBLIC
Donovan’s hope to be able to go through an abbreviated surveillance detection route went out the window sixty seconds after he stepped out of the hospital. The man sitting on a bench across the street from him seemed distraught when Helen climbed into a taxi. It was a big mistake, one a highly trained operative wouldn’t have made. The man looked Hispanic, but Donovan couldn’t be certain. He’d be sure to ask him, though. But first, he had to figure out how many of them there were.
He made a right at the first side street east of the hospital and walked south until he reached the next intersection. He then walked north on Lípová and stopped to read the menu at a Chinese restaurant, taking the opportunity to look for evidence of additional surveillance through the reflection in the restaurant’s windows. He identified four potential watchers in addition to the one he had already branded. Memorizing their physical descriptions, Donovan continued north.
That was when the rain started to fall. Big, heavy drops, with some of them traveling sideways, carried by the wind gusts and hammering the cars. Donovan didn’t mind the rain, but surely his pursuers didn’t feel the same way. It was harder to justify one’s presence in the streets with such a downpour. After another fifteen minutes of maneuvers, he was sure there were three watchers. He glanced at his watch. He’d been at it for a little less than thirty minutes. That should have given Helen plenty of time to reach their BMW in the underground parking garage and load their gear into its trunk.
“What’s your location, Helen?” he asked over their comms system.
“I’m in the X5. I already left the apartment. I’m on my way to you,” she replied. “What’s your exact position?”
“Walking eastbound on Mikovcova. It’s a side street one block south of Anglická.”
“Yeah. Got it. I’m three to four minutes away. You have company?”
“Three men. All of them on foot, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they had a backup or two in vehicles,” he said.
“What do you want to do?”
“I’d like to find out who they are. Is that okay with you?”
“I’m not sure I like the idea,” Helen said, sounding stressed. “You said it yourself, you’re alone, and there are three of them. Wait for me. I’m two minutes out. Can you string them a little longer?”
Thirty yards in front of him, one of the men he had identified jogged across the street and stepped onto the same sidewalk Donovan was using, his hands deep inside his jacket pockets. The man was short, with a beaten-up face and a nose that looked like it had been broken several times. Donovan glanced over his shoulder. The two other men were behind him. One was right behind him and closing fast, the other one was still on the other side of the street, probably acting as a blocking force in case Donovan tried to run.
But running had never crossed Donovan’s mind. On the contrary, he was exactly where he wanted to be.
“Sorry, Helen,” he said lightly, unzipping his jacket and preparing himself mentally and physically for what was to come. “They’re moving in on me.”
“For God’s sake, don’t sound so happy about it,” Helen said. “Hang on, I’m on my way.”