Grigor was still in his jacket as he switched on the scanner and swept the room. He moved it across the walls and ceiling, pointing the scanner’s antennas at them. Then he passed its face across them as if taking photos or a video.

He gave the bed, dresser, nightstands, chairs and desk a thorough sweep, opening all the drawers to scan inside them. He bent low to scan under the furniture, then swept the entire floor from corner to corner. He checked out the lamps, electrical sockets and USB connector ports. He swept the windows, curtain and temperature control unit. He opened the wardrobe closet and ran it across its interior. Did the same with the minifridge, microwave and coffee maker. He went into the bathroom and skimmed the tub, toilet, sink and cabinets. Then he took the folded towels down off the shelves, swept the wall behind them, neatly replaced them and stepped back out into the main room.

He gave it a quick second pass. The scanner didn’t beep, flash or vibrate. Its display showed nothing out of the ordinary. Satisfied the room was clean, Grigor returned the device to his suitcase and pulled the ceramic knife out of his jacket. Unfolding the blade, he slid it over the carton’s shipping tape and lifted its flaps.

A box cutter.

The guns were in a backpack with specially designed sleeves, panels and pockets. He removed one to look it over, a Glock 43X with custom upgrades: an extra-long slide, extended magazine receiver, three-sixty stippling and modular reflex optics cutout. He brought it up to firing position and peered down the barrel and hefted it in his hands. It felt solid and balanced. Everything done to spec.

Grigor set the pistol down on the bed and lifted out the other gun, a tiny, lightweight Czech Scorpion EVO 3 carbine. He had requested only two changes from its original configuration, reducing the trigger pull from nine pounds to five, and replacing the original rigid brace with an adjustable one. He inspected it carefully, tested the pull, opened the brace and tucked it against his shoulder. The fit was snug and comfortable.

He put the carbine down on the bed next to the Glock, then went through the rest of the backpack’s contents. In its various compartments were a pair of fiber-optic sights, two 9 mm suppressors, five 17-round magazines for the Glock, five 20-round clips for the carbine, and a fabric concealed-carry holster. Also some other specialized items he had requested from the old Russian shopkeeper.

He took out the holster, slid the Glock into it and strapped the holster around his waist inside his pants. Then he returned the Scorpion to the backpack and stashed the empty carton in the wardrobe closet.