Cate could hear every word clearly, which relieved some of her trepidation of confronting the man who’d put his wife in jail on false charges. She had to keep cool and lull Marcus into thinking she was alone, and he had nothing to fear from her. The team would take care of the rest.
Hammer turned to Cate. “Ready?”
She nodded and looked for Draco.
He met her gaze, held out his hand and said, “Walk with me.”
“I don’t have much time.”
“Just a few steps,” he said.
She laid her hand in his and walked in the direction they’d agreed on after studying the images of the approaches to the platform.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said.
“I do.” Cate sighed. “You’ll be close. If I feel threatened, I’ll walk away. There will be other people at the platform. He won’t attack.”
“I worry about you.” Draco squeezed her hand. “I want more than one night.”
She gave him a crooked smile. “I’m counting on it.” At least until the mission was over. After that, she didn’t really know what he’d do.
“See you in a few,” she said and released his hand.
Draco stopped walking, letting her continue on her own until she was a sufficient distance from him that they would not appear to be together.
Cate took up her position on a street corner near the platform Dmytro had identified as the one place Calloway passed every day when he came to the platform. She’d worn a hoodie that had been part of the bag of clothes Hammer’s wife, Jaz, had given her. When she reached the corner, she pulled the hood over her head, tucking her blond hair inside. Wearing jeans and the hoodie, she could have been a teenager, hanging out, maybe waiting for a friend.
She leaned against the corner of a building, kept her head down and her eyes open, searching.
Five minutes passed, then ten, with no sign of Marcus. Cate had done enough stakeouts to know you had to be patient and blend in to see what most people didn’t notice. She crossed her arms and glanced left and right, noting an old woman carrying her market basket on a mission she presumed was to fill it with fresh vegetables and bread for the evening’s dinner. Not far behind her, a man wearing a dark trench coat and what Cate identified as a wool caddy hat strode toward the platform, collar up and head down, carrying a coffee cup.
She might have missed him had she not recognized the way he walked. She’d always considered Marcus an arrogant narcissist, but she’d been nice to him for Dana’s sake.
As he neared, she tensed, bunched her muscles and stepped in front of him.
He stopped abruptly to avoid crashing into her, spilling coffee over his hand. He muttered a curse, looked up, and glared at the person in front of him. “You should be more careful.”
“Marcus?” Cate pushed her hood back and looked up at the man, gritting her teeth to keep from kneeing him in the balls. “I didn’t expect to see you in Zurich. What brings you here?” She glanced around. “Is Dana with you? I haven’t spoken with her in ages.”
Marcus’s eyebrows formed a V over his nose. “What the hell, Cate? Since when did you arrive in Switzerland?”
“A couple of days ago,” she said. “How about you? Are you on one of your work trips?”
“Work, actually.” He lifted his chin. “And you? Are you here on a job or vacation?”
“Actually, I’m on a job.” Her smile was so forced, it almost hurt her face. “You see, a friend of mine called out of the blue…from jail.” Her gaze met and held Marcus’s. “For a crime she didn’t commit. She asked me to find out what really happened, and boy, did I find a can of worms with a maggot at the center.”
He shot a glance to his right and then his left. Then he shifted sideways and looked over his shoulder before he snorted and said, “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for work.”
When he tried to move past her, Cate blocked his path.
Cate dropped the pretense. “What have you gotten yourself into, Marcus?”
Again, he glanced around, his eyes narrowing. “Get out of my way.”
“I know you framed Dana for your murder. That took a lot of planning. What do you call a premeditated fake murder? And how about all those supplies you’ve been ordering that never showed up, never were delivered, but were paid for by the United States government. And whose Swiss bank account has a whopping nine million dollars sitting there that matches the total payments for those relief supplies that never existed?”
“Shut up,” Marcus said between gritted teeth.