His steps were slow and measured, but his mind sped quickly enough to make up for his physical shuffle. He’d flagged a few items to send back to the admiral—the bits relevant to the questions for which he’d been tasked with finding answers. He’d made a list of any other details that seemed as though they could be important to someone else, though they weren’t relevant to his tasks. He’d put a considerable dent in the considerable pile of papers.

He passed by the window and looked out as he walked by. Frowned. The same man had been standing on the corner there, leaning into the doorway of a shop, since his last turn about the flat an hour ago. Or was back, perhaps. But still. It was odd. Drake paused a moment and looked down.

The chap wore a hat that obscured his face from this angle and a grey overcoat that looked like countless other grey overcoats out on the street. Perhaps it wasn’t the same man, just another in a similar jacket, in a similar position.

But no. The fellow was rather tall, taller than the other chaps who strode by. It made him stand out. And it wasn’t just a similar position. It was the same position. Drake had been well trained in noting such little anomalies that set one man apart from the rest. This fellow had chosen the doorway of a shop that was closed, and he had a newspaper raised in front of him to the exact level it had been an hour ago. And his head was at an angle Drake knew well—the one he himself had employed on the train, when he was the one hiding behind newsprint.

His pulse kicked up, even as his logic tamped it down. It could be anyone. There for any reason. Maybe it was just some bloke waiting for somebody. Innocent. Or even not-so-innocent, but of no relevance to him. He could be a detective, hired by a wife to track a straying husband. A police officer undercover, looking for a suspect. A man ducking out of work and not wanting to be spotted.

It could be Jaeger.

Drake’s nostrils flared, and he stepped closer to the window. He couldn’t tell from up here if that thought had any evidence to support it or not. He’d never gotten a good measure on Jaeger’s height to know if it matched this tall chap’s, and he couldn’t see this man’s face.

Look up, he willed the figure. Let me see you.

He waited for one minute. Two. The man shifted a few times, but his face remained concealed under the brim of his hat and behind the paper. Though at one point he turned it to the side, revealing his hair.

Dark—darker than Jaeger’s. And longer.