He could kill Behrouz in seconds—from where he stood, the neck being the quickest and most efficient method—but the other two would react. The Glock was tucked neatly in his rear waistband, ready for a right-handed draw, but the two guards had spread apart well. If Slaton went that route he would be facing, quite literally, the proverbial gunfight in an elevator. He might survive all that, might even reach the fourth floor with his gun in hand to mount an assault on the room where Ibrahim Hamedi was perhaps vulnerable. Yet there were other outcomes less to Slaton’s liking. Improvisation was one thing, ill-considered chaos another. The latter bred outcomes that might endanger Christine, and so he took the idea no further.

Slaton was standing directly next to Behrouz, towering over him, and as the elevator rose he extracted a pack of chewing gum from his pocket, unwrapped two sticks, and popped them into his mouth. He held out the pack of gum as an offering. Behrouz gave a quiet snort, then turned toward one of his men and started chattering in Farsi. On the fourth floor the Iranians exited uneventfully, the two big men hanging with Behrouz like sharks trailing a remora—a peculiar contradiction to the natural order of things.

One minute later Slaton and Henri were on the fifth floor, the little man knocking on the door of a room named Bertrand. When there was no answer, the hotel manager pulled out his passkey and opened the door of the suite. Slaton had carefully positioned himself to be on Henri’s right, which put him on the active side of the door, near the lock and handle. With the door ajar, he took one step inside and leaned so as to press the hotelier slightly back into the hallway. As he viewed the room, Slaton reached behind his back and stuck the wad of gum that had been in his mouth onto the key card from his own room at the Montreux Casino, then jammed the whole arrangement into the receiver of the striker plate.

“Yes,” he said, “this will be perfect. A wonderful view, I’m sure.”

“The best in Geneva,” affirmed a beaming Henri.

Slaton too smiled as he reached for the handle and carefully pulled the door shut. The desk manager steered them back to the elevator, and in the lobby minutes later the man who would soon be brother-in-law to the Viscount de Vesci agreed to return the next day to formalize their arrangements. Good wishes were exchanged, and as he backed away, Slaton asked, “Where is the men’s room, please?”

Henri pointed toward the stairwell as he began addressing another customer.

Slaton waited until the hotelier was fully engaged before bypassing the restroom, and for the second time in as many days he shot up the stairs taking three at a time.

Chapter 45

FORTY-FIVE