Valentina read off the number.
“That’s a start. How quickly can you get down there?”
“Trains run every hour.”
“Call me when you know. Get some sleep on the ride. You’ve been going at it a long time. Hopefully, I’ll have something on his whereabouts by the time you arrive.”
“Another thing: I saw the man who’s looking for Coluzzi.”
“Riske? We drew a blank on that name. You’re certain?”
“Try ‘Simon Ledoux.’ Apparently he worked with Coluzzi years ago.”
“First he’s an investigator for a British firm. Now he’s a criminal. You’re certain it’s the same man?”
“Absolutely. He was at the hotel yesterday.”
“If you see him again, you know what to do.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you?” asked Borodin. “How are you holding up?”
“I am fine.”
“You’re certain?”
Valentina took a last look at Falconi and closed the bedroom door. “Positive.”
Chapter 37
Simon stood at the entry of 41 Rue Charlot, reading the directory of tenants. “Falconi, L.” was third from the bottom, a buzzer next to it. “He’s not hiding.”
“Go ahead,” said Nikki. “Ring it.”
Simon pressed the button. He looked at Nikki as he waited for Falconi to ask who was there. No one answered. He pressed the button again. “Must be out for an early walk.”
“Or maybe a workout at his gym,” said Nikki. “He looked like a CrossFitter.” She stepped back and gazed up at the building. “Did the StingRay tell you what floor he’s on, too?”
“One through six. Can’t be too hard to find.” He looked through the glass door at a dark, deserted lobby. Either he could wait for someone to leave the building or he could take matters into his own hands. He eyed the lock, an old Kwikset. “Come here,” he said, motioning her closer.
Nikki stepped nearer.
“Closer. Like you’re giving me a hug.”
Nikki held her ground. “What for?”
“Please,” he said as politely as possible.
Nikki approached so that she was brushing against his chest. He pulled her closer still, and for a moment, they were face-to-face. Content that no passersby could see what he was up to, he removed his pick kit from his pocket, selecting a slim rake and one slightly fatter. He slid both into the lock, sawing back and forth until the tumblers released. “Open it,” he said.
Nikki pushed down on the handle and the door opened inward. “First illegal eavesdropping, now breaking and entering. I can’t wait to see what laws we’ll break by lunchtime.”
“After you,” said Simon, slipping his kit back into his pocket.
Falconi lived in a modern apartment building, which in Paris meant it had been built sometime after the Second World War. There was a small elevator with a door that opened outward and a stone stairway that wound around a central court. Two apartments shared each floor. Nameplates beside the doors indicated the occupants. They found the one with Falconi’s name on the top floor.
“I’m not thinking this was a friendly visit,” said Simon as they took up positions on either side of the door.
