The three-story building was all glass and wafflefront concrete, stucco simulacrum. He paused in front of the department store, peering into the glass until he noticed a man in a loose yellow windbreaker hovering near a leather-goods store opposite. Then Janson walked into the department store, heading toward the men’s clothing area in the rear of the ground floor. He looked appraisingly at suits, keeping an eye on the time and glancing at the small ceiling-mounted mirrors strategically placed to deter theft. Five minutes elapsed. Even if every entrance was guarded, no member of a surveillance team allows his subject to disappear for five minutes. The risk of an unforeseen occurrence is too great.

Sure enough, the man in the yellow windbreaker made his way into Lambropouli Bros., walking across the aisles until he spotted Janson. Then he stationed himself near the glass and chrome display for fragrances; the reflective surfaces would make it easy to spot Janson if he emerged from the back of the store.

Finally Janson took a suit and a shirt to the changing rooms in the far rear. And there he waited. The store was obviously short-staffed, and the salesman had more customers than he could deal with. He would not miss Janson.

But the watcher would. As the minutes ticked by, he would wonder, with growing concern, what could be taking Janson so long. He would wonder if Janson had escaped through an unanticipated service exit. He would have no choice but to enter the changing rooms himself and investigate.

Three minutes later, the man in the yellow windbreaker did precisely that. From the crack of the dressing-room door, Janson saw the man wander through the alcove with a pair of khaki trousers draped over an arm. The man must have waited until there was nobody visible in the narrow aisle of dressing rooms. Yet that was a circumstance that two could exploit. Just as he passed in front of the door, Janson swung it open with explosive force. Now he sprang out and dragged the stunned watcher back to the end of the alcove and through a door that led to an employees-only area.

He had to work fast, before someone who had heard the sound came over to investigate what was going on.

“One word and you die,” Janson told the dazed man softly, holding a small knife to his right carotid artery.

Even in the gloom of the storage facility, Janson could see the man’s earpiece, a connecting wire disappearing into his clothing. He tore open the man’s shirt, removed the thin wire that ran to a ten-ounce Arrex radio communicator in his trouser pocket. Then he took a second look at what appeared to be a plastic bracelet on the man’s wrist: it was, in fact, a positional transponder, signaling his location to whoever was directing the team.