13. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter thirteen
Noble watched as Xanders shook his head. The kid never even glanced at the photograph. His eyes darted all around the little hotel lobby, never once lighting on the image. He said, “No, I’ve never seen him.”
The kid was no poker player. Noble wouldn’t be surprised if steam started pipping from his shirt collar. Noble held the phone up. “You sure?” He tapped the screen. “This guy right here?”
Xanders shook his head more forcefully. “Sorry. No.”
It’s a hell of a thing when you know someone is lying, but there’s nothing you can do about it.
Noble could jump the counter, twist the young man’s arm up behind his back and force him to talk, but the lobby had cameras.
That would only land Noble in jail. Besides, there are better ways to get at the truth.
Still, it was frustrating. He shrugged and pocketed the phone.
“And you’re sure you haven’t got any rooms? ”
“No,” Xanders said, and then, “Yes. I meant, I’m sure we haven’t got any rooms available.”
Noble fixed a smile on his face and rapped the counter with both hands. “Well, thanks anyway, Xanders.”
He walked back out on the street, cruised along the sidewalk and turned the corner.
A tight alleyway ran along the side of the hotel.
So tight, Noble had to turn sideways and shimmy along.
A narrow trickle of smelly water ran along the alleyway.
It hadn’t rained recently so the water was drainage, probably from the hotel.
Noble had to scramble over a stack of discarded plastic milk cartons piled in the constricted artery, then climb a short fence to reach the back of the building.
Like many European cities, the rear of the hotel opened onto a small courtyard.
It was mostly for employees. Large trash bins lined the walls and dozens of cigarette butts lay near the back door.
There was a table and a few chairs for employees who wanted to take their lunch outside.
From the look of things, no one had used them in years.
A single potted plant struggled to get enough sunshine.
Wilted green leaves drooped down over the sides of the pot.
The water in the alleyway came from a series of metal drainage pipes poking through the bricks. Probably overflow from water heaters. They were arranged vertically and made for easy climbing, as long as Noble didn’t mind getting wet.
He took a moment to rub his palms on his trousers, making sure they were dry.
The drainage pipes stuck out less than three inches from the wall.
And because they were aligned one over the next, they would be wet and slippery.
Some of them had decades of moss furring the tops but Noble only had to make it to the second floor.
He glanced once around the little courtyard to be sure no one was watching, then climbed onto one of the large bins and reached for the first pipe.
Sweat beaded on the small of his back as he strained to pull himself up with both hands on the small metal knob.
His biceps flexed and his toes scrabbled against the brick for purchase.
A small stone overhang on a window made a nice lip for one foot.
Noble had to stretch but managed to plant his toes.
He was about to stretch out an arm and attempt to open the window when he realized Bill and Milena had been staying in room 201.
The second floor. Being American, Noble thought of the second floor as the floor above the ground floor.
But in most European countries, they call the first floor of a building the ground floor, the next floor up is called the first. Which meant Bill and Milena would actually be staying on what Noble considered the third floor.
He craned his neck back for a look. It was a long way up.
If he slipped, he’d land on concrete. Well, he’d probably land on top of the metal trash bin and the lid was black plastic, but Noble didn’t care much for that idea either.
So much for an easy trip to Serbia. Hauling in some air, he pushed up with his foot and reached for the next drainpipe, just managing to grab hold.
Decades of moisture had created a thick sludge. Noble’s fingers almost slipped. His stomach did a somersault. He clamped on with both hands, got a tight hold, and felt around blindly with his toes for the window ledge.
He couldn’t find it and for a minute, he started to fear the window didn’t have the same overhang.
Worry started to build toward panic in his chest. Then his toes found the overhang, and a moment later he had a, relatively, stable perch.
He took a moment to catch his breath, then eased across the wall toward the second (third) floor window.
His arms and legs trembled with the effort. Noble decided he’d spent too many days in the water, or lying on the sand. It was time to get back in the gym. He had to stretch dangerously far, but his fingertips reached the window frame and he pushed.
Nothing happened. The window refused to budge.