Seated at a table near the edge of the terrace, the man from the drone photo was leaning forward, elbows resting on the table, listening to a woman talk. There were two women seated with his target, both were almost identical. Dark hair, same facial structure. One was wearing a green blouse, the other a pink one.
Twins?
His phone buzzed. It was Verena. He accepted the call by tapping his earbud.
“Talk to me,” she said.
“I have eyes on him. He’s at the restaurant,” he replied. “But he’s not alone.”
“I know. He’s with a woman.”
“Two women,” Kross corrected her. “And here’s the interesting part. They look alike.”
“Like twins?” Verena asked.
“Yeah ... and there’s more,” Kross said, zeroing in on the woman seated to the man’s right. “They both match the primary’s description. What do you want me to do?”
There was a long pause, but when Verena replied, her voice was calm and decisive.
“I just checked in with my men, and they’ll be on-site in two minutes. But as far as I’m concerned, the two women and the man with the blueshirt are now fair game. From where you are, do you think you could take out both women?”
Kross adjusted his scope again. The two women were seated close to each other. He’d only have to make a small adjustment between the first and second shot.
“Yes,” he said. “Not a guarantee, but close.”
“Wait until my teams get there, then you’re free to engage the women. If the man becomes trouble before my men can grab him, take him out too.”
Kross ended the call, his eyes never leaving the scope. Something told him this wasn’t going to be a simple grab. And he couldn’t be more thrilled. Maybe he wasn’t ready to retire just yet.
He allowed himself a faint smile. This was turning into a fantastic day.
Chapter Twelve
Ses Oliveres Restaurant
Port de Sóller, Mallorca, Spain
Liesel stopped breathing, her lungs refusing to move as her sister, Sofie, sat in the chair next to her. Sofie reached out and squeezed Liesel’s forearm as if doing so was the most natural thing in the world. The gesture was simple, familiar, but it gave Liesel the chills.
“Hi, Schnecke,” Sofie said softly. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
Liesel had a hard time swallowing. Her eyes were fixed on her sister’s hand on her forearm, like the hand was an alien object.
The nickname. The touch. Sofie’s voice. None of it seemed real.
Her baby sister, dead for five years, or so she’d believed, was now sitting beside her.
Alive. Breathing. Touching me.
Liesel was motionless, but in her mind, the memories came crashing in. The funeral, the empty coffin, the years of grief and guilt. She wanted to cry, to laugh, to fucking scream. She wanted to throw her arms around Sofie and never let go, but at the same time, she wanted to grab her little sister by the shoulders and demand to know where the hell she’d been all those years and why she hadn’t given her sign of life.
It was Caspian who broke the spell.
“I’m Caspian,” he said. “I think we met once. In Kenya.”
Sofie looked at him, clearly surprised. “I don’t think so.”
“You were just outside the Kibera slum, at the back of a motorcycle,” Caspian said.
