Louis wondered how many people the Americans had on Marković. Two teams would be standard practice, and three would be better. But if they were keeping tabs on the Serb – audio and visual – then any action against him by Louis would also be recorded, and Louis was averse to shooting a man while agents of his own government recorded the event.

He had also briefly considered the possibility of taking Marković alive, if the opportunity presented itself, in the hope of obtaining from him the whereabouts of the Vuksans, but had dismissed it on a number of grounds: the risks involved, the likelihood or otherwise of Marković having anything more than an email address or burner number for the brothers, and his willingness to share that information with Louis, even under duress. Louis wasn’t in the torture business, but he knew enough about it to be aware that any intelligence obtained through abuse was often unreliable and could be difficult or time-consuming to verify. He was also certain that the Vuksans would have procedures in place should Marković fail to make contact, which meant that whatever Louis might learn from him would ultimately prove useless. No, the Viennese lawyer Frend still seemed the best path to the Vuksans, which made Marković dispensable. In addition, his death would alarm the Vuksans, and any reaction from them would create ripples that might be traced back to their source.

He found a bench, removed a book from his pocket, and commenced not reading it. He spent an hour watching the comings and goings at the hotel, but saw no trace of Marković. It didn’t matter. By the time Louis was done, he had a better sense of the environment, to which he added by taking a stroll through the neighborhood. He checked his watch: the overnight Delta flight from JFK to Paris-Charles-de-Gaulle had landed by now, so it was time to return to his hotel and wait for his guests to arrive. While he hoped to take care of Marković himself, circumstances dictated that this might not be possible. Whatever happened over the next twenty-four hours, one thing was certain: Aleksej Marković would not be leaving Paris alive.