The office door where I’d gotten stuck the night before was locked. Across from the door, a mop bucket, and a carrier box filled with tidily organized cleaning products were lined up against the wall. I walked down the hall to the second office door, from which I’d heard voices. The door was wide open and I walked in. The office was sparse. There was a cabinet along one wall, a desk and chair in the middle. Against the other wall another cleaning guy in blue uniform and cap was standing on a sofa.

The cleaner was balancing himself with difficulty and wore the same blue plastic sanitary booties over his shoes as his colleague. The guy was about the same height and body shape, short and stocky. And therefore this one was having a hard time reaching the top of the wall with the vacuum cleaner hose. He was trying to reach the corner where the wall meets the ceiling. Like his colleague, he wore blue latex gloves.

The guy noticed me out of his peripheral vision and turned. Narrow blue eyes in a Slavic or Caucasian face.

He switched the vacuum cleaner off and stepped down from the sofa. He was relaxed, friendly and smiling. Same accent as the other guy. “Bonjour, monsieur. Can I help you?”

I recognized him and my blood chilled quick. Not so much the face, but the eyes and the fact that there were two of them. I had seen him and his twin in their blue van when we were driving out of Nazari’s place the night before. They had been searching for something. I had figured they were lost, but now I realized that they were looking for Nazari’s house. I figured they had planned a cleaning operation there, but we hadn’t been in.

The guy didn’t move. The smile on his face was fixed. I was too far from him. He would have time to draw a weapon. I had none. I figured fifty-fifty I’d get out of the room alive.

I said, “Sorry about the footprints.”

He looked at my boots, shrugged and indicated the sanitary booties. “It’s why we wear these. So I don’t have to worry about footprints when I clean.”

“I’m looking for the travel office. Did they move?”

The guy’s face didn’t change. “I don’t know, sir. The landlord wants the place clean is all.”

“New tenants?”

He shrugged and smiled. “I don’t really know. We just do what’s asked. Maybe he just likes it clean.”

The cleaner watched me with a half smile. He had dropped the vacuum cleaner hose on to the sofa. I realized that he was seconds away from pulling a weapon. Probably tucked into the waistband of his pants.

“Sure. Thanks.” I turned around and walked out, waiting for the bullet in the back.