I’m glad she’s cautious and, bastard or not, I’m not telling her she’s imagining things. I want her to see danger in every corner and shadow, and I want her to not take unnecessary chances. Fear will make her cautious.
By the time the elevator doors open, she’s pulled herself together and is standing beside me, her hands still, her half-smile serene. She shows me around the office. There are six access points. Two stairwells, an elevator, and three doors from the balcony. And while the balcony would be harder to access directly from the street, there are floors with balconies above and below this one. All it would take is climbing rope, a grapple hook, a collapsible ladder. It’s feasible, if the Italians want to try that route.
I station men at each door. Two outside. One inside.
She sm
