Benoit pulled the Audi to a halt outside the main entrance of the restaurant, his phone buzzing as his earpiece came to life, Marek confirming that he was across the street in an observative role.
Benoit waited in the entryway to the restaurant, his call waiting revealed Carpenter was calling, switching between calls, Benoit was instructed to meet his MI6 contact around the side of the restaurant, the side street being a dimly lit pathway, barely able to fit a vehicle.
Signalling Marek from across the street as he spoke to Carpenter, Benoit made it very clear that the keys to the car were still inside.
Disappearing down the side street, Benoit vanished from view as Marek made his way to the best possible position to see the door of a very standard Peugeot close. Moving quickly to the Audi, Marek turned the ignition over and began his long distance tail of the Peugeot.
Benoit was nervous, feeling unprepared, his arm bracing on the window sill, the other, hidden from Carpenter’s view, fingers touching the grip of the Glock 19 at his hip. The conversation was less than informative, Carpenter referring to the same phrases and answers, all along the same lines of that there would be a simple stake out position with minimal activity.
Driving a short distance outside the main city, the large mansions and private roads of wealthy families and individuals filled the horizon. As the car continued outside the city, the dimly lit wide streets became less and less populated by cars, mainly due to the enormous driveways that led into the courtyards of these mansions, no cars permitted to park on the street.
Slowing as he turned down a dark road and taking a left into a driveway that began a steep ascent, the Peugeot rolled a few metres uphill before being stopped by a dark iron gate. Putting the car in park, Carpenter turned the engine off as he cracked the windows, announcing that this was the spot for the night. Pulling out a thermos from behind his seat Carpenter poured himself and Benoit some tea, advising Benoit that he was not to interfere with anything that was to take place, or else risk being exposed as a potential liability moving forward. Agreeing to the terms, Benoit took the tea and began to sip slowly.
As Benoit looked around, he spied the Audi drive down the same road, moving past without pause and disappearing down the other end of the wide road.
Carpenter drew Benoit’s attention to the large estate across the road behind where the car was parked, a huge establishment in the distance, past the stone walls and elegant gates.
Marek continued down the wide road, looking for somewhere to park inconspicuously, however finding himself on a road with no street parking, he turned his attention to how to best circle the streets to familiarise himself with them in case he needed to make a quick exit. As Marek listened intently to his earpiece and listening the what Benoit and Carpenter were looking at, Marek continued to drive towards where he could see traffic, a long line of cars appearing in front of him pulling into the main driveway of the Hotel Europe, the location of the high society event mentioned to him after the Shevlenko seminar.
Benoit watched the large estate closely, it was clear he was looking at the rear of the establishment, its grounds well lit considering the time of night, enquiring of Carpenter where they were, his voice still coming through clearly in Marek’s earpiece.
Leaving the car to stretch his legs, binoculars in hand, Benoit watched the rear windows of the Hotel Europe closely, speaking softly to Marek, advising of his location and what he could see, he was relieved to hear the Marek had followed the traffic into the Hotel was at the valet stand, leaving the Audi and moving towards the front entrance.
The sight of guests being wanded by security caused Marek to pause a moment, it was too late for him to leave his firearm in the car, it was already being driven to the parking structure. As he pulled a silver cigarette case from his inner jacket pocket, he walked casually around the front gardens, tapping a cigarette on the case as he wandered. Taking his chance, he moved swiftly, removing the pistol and holster from his inner waistband and placing it between two large rocks, invisible to someone not looking specifically for anything out of place.
Breathing a side of relief, he moved towards the security guards for mandatory wanding, listening the the complaints of the other CEO’s who were taking offence to being so thoroughly checked over. The wand buzzed to life as it waved under his arm, security giving a stern look to each other as Marek removed the cigarette case, the wand moving again with no sound.
Confirming in Benoit’s ear that he was unarmed but inside, Marek took a glass of champagne as he moved to the rear window of the Hotel, advising of the window and if he could confirm visually that he was visible. Benoit smiled as he could see the familiar shape of Marek drinking from a champagne flute, his stance very much that of someone who fitted the surroundings.
Carpenter also exited the Peugeot, he denied every request from Benoit to move closer or change position for a better angle. Benoit felt powerless to give any sort of assistance as Marek asked for any intelligence that could help him in moving through the grounds.
Marek scanned the room in front of him, the clock chiming 11pm as he sighted Shevlenko shaking hands with dignitaries from several nations, his familiar four compatriots scattered around the large room. Continuing to scan the room, Marek made note of many of the dignitaries who were mingling with each other, some disappearing into rooms that contained numerous forms of entertainment, on the right hand side of the large space, a room full of billiard tables, another with black jack and poker tables. To the left, the sound of roulette wheels spinning filled the air, the thick cigar smoke leaking out of the ceiling door frame.
As Marek continued to watch Shevlenko, he noticed that his behaviour was very different from previously seen at the auditorium where he had his lecture. Sipping on bottled mineral water, Shevlenko appeared far more animated. The four minders also moved around the room, taking shifts on who had eyes on Shevlenko, however wherever possible, Shevlenko would watch them as much as he they watched him, when the coast was clear, he would quickly down a Champagne flute full to the brim, just like a naughty child sneaking a cookie.
A mix of laughter and cursing drew Marek’s attention to the room where the roulette tables were spinning. Refreshing his drink as he entered, immediately Marek noticed a strange, older man against the far wall of the room. Dressed in a Tuxedo, however severely outdated, as if it was the height of fashion in the 1960’s, the man was also scanning the room. Marek made sure that the man saw him as he raised a glass briefly to the man. The well dressed gentleman returned Marek’s gaze, however the look in his eyes was intense, as if threatening, then turning his attention to the waiters who served him by name ‘Rachov’, yelling at them that he does not drink. Breaking the eye contact, Marek followed the loud voice of a much younger man who was spinning the roulette wheel, cursing and laughing, the two elegant women who hung off him consumed by his every gesture.
This man was dressed in the latest fashion, he did not appear to Marek to be older than 30, yet his clear disregard for the rest of the room stated that he was clearly used to being the most important person in the vicinity.
Walking back into the main room, Marek’s blood went slightly colder, almost bumping into a familiar face, Naomi Delanie. Now a senior researcher at the world bank, Marek recognised her from his time working within the Polish Special Forces. She had not seen his face in time to recognise him, moving away quickly yet calmly, Marek kept his distance, knowing that she was the only person in the room who could identify him as not the name on his stolen name badge.
Taking up a similar observation position on the other side of the room, closer to the entrance to the billiard room, his eyes fixed back on Shevlenko and his team. His gaze was met by Zhenya, looking directly at Marek, her lips mouthing the words ‘Help Me’.
Identifying the cry for help, Marek immediately moved towards her, placing his hand on her shoulder, excusing himself to the man deep in conversation with her, asking to borrow her for a brief conversation. A sigh of relief took her over, explaining that she could not escape the gentleman she was talking to, a banking official who was doing everything possible to claim her phone number.
Moving away from the man and towards the bar, Zhenya and Marek exchanged pleasantries, struggling to communicate clearly with his brief research into who he was impersonating. Offering to give further assistance if the need should arise again to save her from unwanted conversations, Marek moved to a different section of the bar, ordering himself a Starka.
Benoit continued to watch the exterior of the Hotel, growing impatient with the lack of activity. It was clear to him that his presence had been requested by Carpenter for a reason, yet it continued to escape him as the MI6 Chief remained ever elusive to answering any for of questions. Scanning the windows, Benoit could see what appeared to be Shevlenko, the large frame of his bodyguard unmistakable against the random shapes of politicians and officials. Muttering to himself in an attempt to communicate with Marek inside the building, he earpiece was nearly indecipherable, random words and conversation being drowned out by the classical and somewhat cliche string music playing.
Marek continued to observe the room, deciding if it was a good idea or not to refresh his drink for the second time. As he scanned the faces of the people in quiet conversations with one another, making sure he could keep an eye on his former work colleague Naomi, he noticed that the odd looking man in the outdated Tuxedo was making his way along the back wall, passing by the large windows at the rear of the building. As he continued to observe the older gentleman, his way of walking was strange, more of a shuffle rather than a stride. Moving close to a group of guests who were laughing and smiling, the odd man took a large sniff of the woman closest to him when he thought no one was looking.
Cocking his head as if involuntarily, Marek moved immediately from the bar, walking without purpose through the crowd, yet intently towards the odd behaviour he had just witnessed.
Seeing him coming, the elder gentleman stopped his deep nostril intake and peered sinisterly at Marek who was now within a few metres of him.
Taking another sip of his drink and doing his best to remain controlled, Marek leant towards the man, giving his best directions to the tailors he had seen close to the restaurant where he had first met Carpenter. Marek then turned and moved back towards the bar, remaining tense yet glad to have more space between himself and the gent.
Benoit had his binoculars up to his eyes, however his gaze was elsewhere as he did his best to listen intently to the voices and statements coming through his earpiece. Looking back through the windows of the large space, Benoit scanned for Marek and who he was exchange words with, yet all he saw were the walls between large glass panels.
Carpenter tapped Benoit on the shoulder, telling him it was time to stop focusing on his phone call as some friends from Langley were about to begin carrying out their task shortly.
Shocked at the news, Benoit listened intently to Carpenter, the inter agency communication placed MI6 on a purely support status for whatever was going to happen. Asking more questions about the objective of the American visitors, Carpenter remained tight lipped on the subject, his only explanation being that this was the exit point for the operation.
Marek was now looking for his former friend, eventually spying Naomi in conversation with the loud and arrogant man seen previously at the roulette tables. Marek made his same actions as he had with Zhenya, asking to borrow the lady for a brief moment, offended at the gesture the arrogant man gave a frightful and angry look before refusing to allow the conversation to be interrupted. Naomi recognised Marek almost immediately, assuring the gentleman that she would be right back with him. The gentleman stated that his interaction with Marek was not concluded.
The news of Langley operatives being relayed into Marek’s earpiece gave him little time to generate any form of story that would be credible to Naomi. Finding a quieter corner of the room, she looked shocked to see him, glancing at his name badge in confusion. Marek did not have time to explain, his only words to her being that he was working, Naomi knowing that he had dropped off the grid in terms of military service. Advising her to keep alert as something was about to happen, he could not say more as his own information was severely limited. Naomi nodded, her expression somewhat shocked, yet understanding, she returned to the gentleman she had previously been conversing with who in tern shot Marek a look of malice.
Simon Thonradel, the man Naomi had been speaking to, an aristocrat who’s family went back generations in terms of finance, Marek asked Naomi as he was having trouble placing the face.
Carpenter looked at his watch intently, moving back towards the front seat of the car, he pulled a small, black electronic box from under his seat and plugged it into the car radio. The box lit up, radio frequencies visible on the front display. Scrolling through the frequencies, within moments, Russian voices started coming through clearly. Benoit realised that he was now listening to the secure frequency between Shevlenko’s guards, Shevlenko deep in discussion with Katarina, going through the schedule for the next day. Appointments with Prince Sattan of Saudi Arabia had been moved from the morning to the evening, appointments with the ‘Doctor’ to be confirmed.
Watching them move, Benoit could see that Shevlenko and his team were moving across the grassy grounds, following the pathways and lights towards what looked like a stable and several parked cars.
Signalling to his team that he needed a rest, Shevlenko sat down on one of the several benches that lined the pathway. As he sat, Shevlenko signalled for Zhenya, and within moments, Sebastian Popov was moving briskly back towards the rear entrance of the hotel. Benoit zoomed in on Popov as he passed straight past Marek who was standing on the stone slaps of the rear landing. Whispering to Marek through his phone line to stay on Popov, Marek acknowledged and turned to move back inside.
Turning back to Shevlenko, it was clear to Benoit that Shevlenko was having some sort of medical issue. Carpenter spoke confidently that the time had come for the operation to commence, Benoit feeling the tension rising.
Popov was demanding the keys to Shevlenko’s car, his voice hurried as it sounded through the radio for Benoit to hear. Katarina’s voice came back through the radio, demanding to know where the vehicle was, an argument breaking out about how quickly it can be accessed. Shevlenko stood again, pointing to the stables, expressing a desire to go and sit inside. As Shevlenko moved towards the stables, his voice was almost inaudible over the radio as it was coming through Katarina’s device, who in turn began to run towards the main Hotel, a burst of information across the radio frequency increased in volume, Katarina’s voice ordering Popov to get the car and she was getting paramedics.
As Benoit did his best to keep Marek appraised of the evolving situation, Marek had taken his own valet ticket out of his pocket at had taken up a position behind Popov as if also waiting for his vehicle.
Shevlenko, Zhenya and Taras all moved towards the stable, at that moment, the Russian frequency went dead, interference taking over.
Katarina had signalled the staff at the rear entrance who immediately sprang into action, mere seconds later, two paramedics emerged from a service entrance on the eastern side of the building, racing towards the stables.
Benoit was fixed to his binoculars, shifting his gaze from his right hand side, where the stables were located, moving left to the main house, then further left to where the paramedics were now visible. As his gaze moved back and forward, Benoit stammered for a moment, thinking that he had spotted something moving that was out of place. Moving back to the spot he believed he had seen something, only to find shadows swaying against the grass.
Moving back towards the stables, Zhenya was standing at the doorway, her had pressed firmly against the chest or Taras, the giant who was clearly angry. He was trying to get inside while Zhenya held him back, Benoit scanning the access doors to the stables, making sure there was no other cause for concern, the paramedics now moving to where the path to the stables split from where Shevlenko had first sat down.
Benoit jumped as he heard the familiar sound of gunfire, two shots rang out, then a burst of automatic fire before silence again. Benoit called into his phone, informing Marek of shots being fired. Not the only person advised, the security personnel all sprang to life, their wired radio earpieces causing them to unsling their compact sub machine guns and move in defensive positions. Chaos took over briefly as dignitaries were being rushed to the exit, politicians were scrambling and bankers were taking cover. Marek continued to stand and wait for the valet who had taken his ticket.
Benoit kept his eyes glued on the stables, Taras now visible, pistol in hand, the silence seemed louder than the gunfire. Carpenter was somewhat dumbfounded, confirming that something had gone horribly wrong. Walking away from Benoit, Carpenter pulled his phone from his pocket and started dialling as he paced in circles. Feeling the sweat bead on his forehead, Benoit was constantly talking into his phone, both agreeing that they needed the car as soon as it could be arranged. Frustrated at the now chaotic scene, Marek was being moved out of the way of the private security who were escorting politicians directly to their vehicles without valet assistance. Quickly turning the large fountain that doubled as a turning circle into a traffic jam.
The radio jamming on the Russian frequency had ceased, Katarina’s voice coming through clearly, seeking a situation report.
Benoit watched as the stables came to life, the rear doors opening as Shevlenko staggered back towards the main house from the front doors, his posture appearing to show that he was clearly no longer struggling to stay upright.
Switching his sight to the rear doors of the stable, Benoit felt a cold shiver along the back of his neck as he watched an individual emerge, carrying a body in each hand, gripped by the belt, throwing them into the van that seemed insignificant parked next to the stable. Benoit looked on his shock as the figure moved back inside the stable and emerged again with two more bodies, both also being thrown inside the van before the sliding door slammed shut, the figure climbing in behind the wheel.
Listening to the chaos, Marek watched the commotion of the hurried masses, seizing his moment to rearm himself with his stashed pistol. Seeing the Audi pull up to the entrance, Marek shouted into his phone that he was now mobile and moving back towards where he last saw Benoit.
Carpenter came back towards Benoit asking what he had missed during his call, Benoit frustratedly filled him in with the sight of bodies being loaded into a van, the same van that was now heading towards the exit that the two of them were parked near. Carpenter stammered as he let it slip that four bodies was the number of the entire Langley team contingent. Carpenter turned his frustration inward as he was doing the maths inside his own head, his thoughts being that no one other than himself knew of the involvement of the CIA team.
Carpenter and Benoit both entered the Peugeot as the van exited the rear gate of the property, turning back towards the direction both Benoit and Carpenter had arrived from. Driving at an unrushed pace, the van was in no hurry, Benoit easily keeping at a safe distance.
Marek finally escaped the parked carnage of the turning circle, heading back towards the rear of the grounds, as he raced up the service road, he could see the familiar vehicle that he had observed Popov get behind the wheel of at the entrance to the Hotel, the large Bently emerging from the rear gate and turning towards him, the opposite direction of where Benoit was currently pursuing the van. Discussing in urgent voices, Benoit was requesting that Marek back him up, his description of what he had seen regarding someone throwing bodies around like garbage giving them both immediate flashbacks to their encounter with the giant, black clad figure in the cave.
Not touching the brake as he sped past the Bently, Marek soon took up a follow pattern with Benoit who was keeping his distance from the van ahead of them.
Carpenter had come to the conclusion that he needed to interrogate the driver of the van, Benoit explaining that it was most likely going to be a very difficult task, based on what he had witnessed.
As the van entered the wider roads on their way back towards Vienna, Marek decided to get a better idea of what they were following. As the second lane of the main road opened up, Marek put his foot to the floor, overtaking Benoit then the van before merging back in front of it, his goal being to see in his rear view if the driver of the van was dressed in black fatigues and a hood.
Pulling in front of the van as the Audi entered the bridge across the Danube, Marek backed off his accelerator, peering into the rear view mirror, the driver was not distinguishable at first sight. Watching closely, Marek saw the driver reach up and turn the cabin light on, Simon Thonradel, his smile wide across his face as he slammed his foot on the accelerator and swung the wheel widely, crashing the van through the wall of the bridge and plummeting towards the water below. Shocked at the sight, Marek slammed on the brakes as he watched the face of Simon again and again in his mind, the smirk on his face, the red shine of tail lights in his eyes.
Running to the broken wall, Marek was joined by Benoit and Carpenter just in time to see the brake lights of the van sink below the water of the Danube.
Benoit focussed on the van as Carpenter took out his phone, Marek watched the shore line, scanning for movement. Another bridge some 50 metres down river, Marek called to Benoit, although too slowly for him to see the shadowy figure shimmy up the bridge and disappear over the railing. Benoit shook his head, saying goodbye to Albert Carpenter, climbing back into the Audi with Marek.
*
Driving around for close to an hour, the two men exchanged information regarding what they had not been able to communicate due to the noise of the party, the events in the stable and the van accident. Marek explained that he had the feeling there were people who knew who they were regarding the oddly dressed old man who insisted as much.
Arriving back to Carrol’s residence the two slumped into the armchairs in the living room, Marek pulling his laptop towards him. Benoit rising again an pouring two large glasses of bourbon before sitting back down, placing one in front of Marek.
Opening his secure email, Marek sent through an email to Arnold Gorman, his contact inside the CIA, asking simply for who was in Vienna, more to the point, search and rescue will be needed, asking for any information on how to assist.
Closing his laptop and taking a gulp of Bourbon, Marek slump back in his chair, Benoit leaning forward and letting his thoughts spill out of his mouth, looking for leads to follow and ways to find some form of answers. Running through all possible avenues, do they go back to the scene of the incident, do they follow up Shevlenko’s doctor, his entourage, how is it all connected and what was the CIA’s interest.
Both now standing and pacing around the room, conversing as to how to best find out what they were to do next, deciding they could not go back to the scene, the police would be swarming, politicians in the same vicinity as gun fire, it was an international incident waiting to happen. The conversation then turned to Shevlenko’s doctor, asking themselves as well as each other if the doctor could be the same man as the doctor they had witnessed in the cave. Moving back to his laptop, Marek began running his invasive programs to try and break through the firewalls of Sevastian Popov’s devices in search of who Shevlenko was seeing in Vienna for his medical requirements.
After a brief time and another glass of bourbon, Marek was in, a Doctor Ingolf appeared throughout Shevlenko’s calendar, the address listed a stones throw from the centre of town. Not wanting to waste any time, Benoit pushed for them to go to the doctor’s office immediately, both men were in no mood to sleep, their blood still rushing with adrenaline after the night's activities, the alcohol doing little to negate it.
*
The two approached the address with little caution, a town house in a line of town houses, plaques on almost every front door, doctors here, lawyers there, architects and more as they moved down the clean and well lit street.
Marek entered the door with Dr Ingolf’s name on the plaque, a regular examination office complete with filing cabinets. Getting through the locks as as simple as turning a key for Marek, skimming through the letters and finding Shevlenko’s file; it might as well have been written in Sanskrit for what Marek could understand. Immediately taking photos on his phone of every page, the thick folder took a few minutes to capture. Looking at Dr Ingolf’s computer, Marek could see that his phone was connected to the computer through digital system. Booting up the desktop, Marek broke through the password protection in moments, scrolling through email and correspondence. Scanning through phone records Marek noted that frequent calls were being made to a single number before and after Shevlenko’s appointments.
Once he had copied and downloaded all of the files he thought would be useful, Marek continued to scan the room where Benoit had entered, shaking his head at the lack of useful details found behind the reception desk. Both men looked to a large cabinet against the side wall, opening it up, more documents were shelved within, alongside a small safe. Opening it with minimal issue, Marek swung the door open to reveal two shelves, one containing a small amount of cash and two passports, the lower shelf containing a vile of blood in a small clear stand with a notebook of handwritten notes. Without hesitation, Marek grabbed the blood vial and placed it in his pocket, snapping pictures of every page of the notebook.
Benoit discussed with Marek replacing the vial as not to cause suspicion, finding a similar vial. Marek using his skills as a previous medic to extract Benoit’s blood and fill the vial before placing it back in the safe.
Doing what they could to make everything appear as it was when they arrived, their total time within the doctors office was just under 40 minutes, cleanly exiting the office with copies of medical records, phone records, a vial of blood and a detailed history of Shevlenko’s medical condition.
Finally able to relax for the evening, feeling like they had achieved at least a small measure of success, Benoit headed to the bathroom to take a shower while Marek checked to see if he had received any correspondence from his CIA contact regarding his enquiry, yet nothing had returned.
After Benoit had vacated the bathroom, Marek was next, taking a long shower to do what he could to wash the last few hours of frustration off him before retiring for the night.
*
Benoit’s alarm sounded at 9am, waking both men who rose quickly, both showering and making themselves coffee before reviewing the information gathered the previous night. Marek moved his laptop to the dining table, placing his coffee down next to it. Still waiting for a response from Gorman, he then began looking into the conditions listed in Shevlenko’s file. From what he could gather, also conversing with Benoit, Shevlenko had at some stage in his life been poisoned, causing his heart to sustain damage and he himself not being able to handle much stress.
A common enough tactic for a spy they both thought, unable to be thoroughly interrogated due to the risk of death, both thought this was possibly self inflicted.
Benoit was pacing at the opposite end of the dining table, thinking if he should involve any further parties given that Albert Carpenter was less than helpful in the situation of the previous evening. Deciding that his knowledge and the knowledge of Marek was not enough when it came to the medical field, Benoit openly volunteered to have the blood and notes analysed by a former work colleague. A former associate of the French Special Forces and now a medical examiner for the Paris Gendarmerie, Violet Laurent, a supporter of Benoit during his removal from the GIGN.
Marek did not argue, giving Benoit control of the computer to reach out to Violet via email, sending through the notebook and medical reports pertaining to Shevlenko, asking for any and all assistance.
Turning his attention to the phone records he had copies, Marek began analysing the phone calls made before and after each Shevlenko appointment that was coming and going from the doctors office. The HOTEL CENTRAL was where the calls were going to and coming from. A backpacker style hotel for the accommodation of tourists. A concrete building for the traveller on a small budget. Making note of the number ending in 406, the only difference from the main number being that reception ended in 000. Whoever was making and receiving those calls was in either room 406 or on the fourth floor, room 6. Benoit was again edgy about the news, receiving calls prior to an appointment and the calls being returned after the appointment, clear signs that the doctor was relaying some form of information to whoever was on the other end of the phone. Both decided to follow the thread and move on to the Hotel.
As the Audi drove casually towards the location of the hotel, Benoit called Carpenter for an update, he answered promptly. Discussing the potential fallout, Carpenter did not have much to tell, regarding any aftermath, however he did give freely the information regarding the operation. The CIA team consisting of two operatives waiting in the barn, two more dressed as paramedics were there to extract Shevlenko. He was to fake a heart attack and be extracted via ambulance in the custody of the CIA, as a result of the actual events, everything had been turned on its head, Shevlenko was back in the Russian Embassy.
Carpenter stressed his desire to keep Vienna quiet and manageable, the operation going sideways was not to his liking, the police divers pulling four unnamed bodies from the back of the van on the bottom of the Danube also causing him stress. Lastly addressing the action in the stable, bullet holes in a mix of calibres that can be acquired anywhere in Europe, yet no blood was found at the scene.
Dressed in casual attire, Marek and Benoit were both of the mindset that they were potentially walking into a trap. Parking the Audi a block from the Hotel and walking the rest of the way, Marek and Benoit both noticed the CCTV cameras along the street outside the hotel, Marek asked Benoit if they should go in the front door or make their way in silently.
Taking the side door to the laundry room, Marek got through the lock quickly, moving inside as if he were a guest returning to his room. Benoit close behind him, the two began to ascend the staircase, glancing at numbers on the doors, Marek was correct, they were headed to the fourth floor.
Benoit posted up outside the door, drawing his pistol from his waist and keeping it hidden from any guests wandering the hallways. Marek forced the door to room 406 open, also with a pistol in hand. For a hotel designed to house travellers of lesser financial status, the room was spotless, the fresh smell of disinfectant lingering in the air, the two beds made, every surface wiped clean. Clearing the room together, both men noticed adjoining doors on opposite sides of the room, giving each other a nod, Marek moved to the left, Benoit to the right. Opening the doors together, the two room they now found themselves in were similarly spotless. Two beds in each, everything had been cleaned, professionally. Holstering their side arms, Marek and Benoit began searching for any signs of who may have been staying here. As they searched everything, Benoit picked up a waste bin he found on the small balcony to room 406, ashes of burnt paper within, showing Marek who agreed that this was a professional cleaning job.
Benoit pulled his phone back out of his pocket, calling Carpenter in regards to the CIA team. Carpenter’s voice was frustrated as he explained that there was a four man team and a cleaner sent from Langley. Benoit confirmed that there were five members of the CIA team and that they were now standing in their safehouse. Carpenter gave Benoit the details of the cleaner, a woman, Lynne Fineburg, a junior analyst for the CIA, the only way of tracking her, an address for a small accounting business in Vienna.
Marek picked up the Vienna phone index that was next to the room phone, a pen and paper still inside, scanning the pages he noticed a familiar advertisement. CJH Investments, what Marek remembered as a CIA front company from back in the days when he was working with Naomi, marked with a pen and paper in a CIA safehouse, the same business that matched the address given to Benoit by Carpenter.
The conclusion slapped both of them in the face. The Doctor was the CIA contact for Shevlenko. Doctor - Patient confidentiality protects the doctor from the FSB being in the room, and he was sending communications to the CIA who when in Vienna were staying in the rooms Marek and Benoit were now standing in. The only path left to take, find the CIA cleaner who had cleaned the rooms, angry that they had not figured it out sooner, both looked at the phone book, Benoit pointing at the advertisement, stating that was their next stop.
