After an hour or so of uneventful driving around, Grant checked into a local hotel and settled in the dining room for a lunch. He studied everyone that passed by, or was also seated in the room; his clandestine nature on continual alert. A few innocuous questions at the front desk about resident personalities had revealed very little. It seemed Felix was just as anonymous where he lived as he was to the rest of the country - that, or locals knew better than to speak of him.

On a whim, he brought up a local directory on his phone while he waited for service. He didn't expect Felix to be in a phone book, but the town street map showed several areas where he would likely choose to reside. A waitress smiled up to his table with water and a menu, and Grant assumed a naïve tourist persona, asking touristy questions, and learning the area where Port-Saint-Père's elite had their homes.

He googled a satellite map of the area and zoomed in on several likely spots, making a note of three places, then dug into his food, while a new plan formed.

♟♟♟♟♟

Mallory chewed on the raw carrot as she sat on the tiny balcony watching the street. She had told Morrisey about seeing Grant and what she figured he was doing, and now he asked a number of questions about their procedure while munching a cold meat sandwich.

"We won't be taking the Vauxhall. That's what he was looking for. A cab into town, then we walk."

"Do you want to split up? Maybe you take the meeting and I'll watch the street."

"I've already told her you would be there; I don't want to spook her if she is doing her own reconnaissance."

"Duelling trade craft. What a life we lead." He licked a few crumbs from his fingers and patted his stomach. "That hit the spot. Thank you."

"I picked up a hat for you as well - it's popular with the tourists."

"Really? You knew my size?"

She finished her carrot and wiped her fingers together. "Large."

The look brought out a laugh, and she got up quickly to avoid his reaction. They both darted inside and Mallory ran to the bedroom, failing to hold him back with the door.

"Large, eh? I'll show you large." He grabbed her about the arms and topped them both onto the bed.

"We have to leave shortly," she chortled, fending off his attempts at subduing her.

"Time enough." He pushed her back against the pillows, and after a few beats of eye contact and short breaths, he kissed her - gently, then not so.

♟♟♟♟♟

Mallory was surprised to get the same table she had when they first met, and she chose a large fruit drink while she waited. Morrisey had taken another table because he wanted a better view of both the street and the entrance. Mallory looked at him through her sunglasses, assessing the man with whom she had risked both their careers, as well as an unsettling intimacy.

Face it, Mallory West, it's been a long time since you were emotionally undressed. She sipped her drink, her attention swinging to the entrance and the appearance of Ava Kapova.

Morrisey perked up as he watched the woman make her way to Mallory's table. The mauve flowered sleeveless dress, a dark yellow carry bag and matching, wide brimmed sun hat, all came together perfectly, and she gave Mallory a peck on the cheek before settling across from her.

The sunglasses came off, and he saw the strain as she offered a smile. Two old friends meeting for a drink and gossip. A drink order was taken, and he watched Ava stiffen as she listened to the reason she was there. He checked the street again both the cars and the pedestrians. Mallory's hand crept across the table and rested on Ava's, her head moving as she spoke.

The drink arrived and was immediately lifted to quivering lips. Mallory was doing a masterful job of giving the impression that their conversation was just chatter between two friends. He saw the slight slump in Ava's posture and a nod of her head, then her hand went to Mallory's in a pleading gesture.

Don't lose it, he said to himself, watching her closely. Take a breath.

Morrisey got up and passed by their table, slow enough for Ava to see him, and then he carried on to the cash and went outside. In the shade of the awning covered porch, he scanned the street again. A young man was parking his bicycle across the street. It had a little British flag on the handlebar, and he spent a lot of time doing nothing with his backpack, all the time furtively glancing at the restaurant.

Morrisey watched for a little while then slipped off the porch and came around on a flanking approach. He stopped behind the young man and, after a moment, spoke. The reaction was almost comical as the backpack fell onto the road and his knee jerked into the wheel spokes of the bike.

"Something about the restaurant that grabs your interest?"

"Huh- what do you mean? No . . ." He rubbed his knee and retrieved his pack.

"No?" Morrisey moved close, watching the man's eyes widen slightly. "Nobody inside demand your attention?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just doing a bike tour." He shouldered his pack and began to walk away.

With a practised skill, Morrisey gripped a pressure point on the man's arm, and with little resistance, steered him into a small lane between two buildings.

"Let's try that again. What was your interest in the restaurant?"

"You're crazy! I'm calling for the police."

The grip tightened, and the man nearly passed out, his back sliding down the wall to a crouching position.

"I can make the damage permanent if you prefer."

"What do you want?" There was almost a tear from the wet eyes.

"Last time. The restaurant?"

"A man paid me to see- to look for this woman." He fumbled a passport photo of Mallory from his jacket pocket.

"Where is he?"

"I'm supposed to meet him at his hotel at six."

"What hotel?" Morrisey applied a little more pressure.

"Best Western. Please, my arm is numb."

"You keep your meeting at six, and if you mention me, I will remove your arm and force it down your throat - I will be watching."

The young man careened from the alley, grabbing his bike with one hand while trying to flex his numb arm. Morrisey watched after him, an amused grin forming as he thought about his action. Mr. Tough Guy. He went back to the restaurant as the women were coming out. Ava looked at him then quickly made her way down to the drive where she had parked her car.

"Everything okay?"

"I hope so. Where did you go?" Mallory answered.

"Grant sent a kid to spy on you. I had a chat."

"How did he know where we were?"

"Don't think he did, the kid had your picture. He was just riding around and got lucky."

"Well damn it, Morrisey, what happened?"

"He told me Grant was at the Best Western hotel, he was meeting him there at six."

Mallory shot a look at her watch and made a face. "Hour and a half to get set up."

"I'll get a cab."

"What about Ava, how did she take it?"

"She's frightened for her daughter, and she's still frightened about what happened with Felix and Ivan. The removal of Ivan gives him a hold over Vladim now, and he used it as a veiled warning. There's a chance he still suspects her as a mole."

"You told her about Grant being here?"

"That just added to her worry. I'm not sure that was a good move."

"Hindsight and all that. Maybe we can eliminate that threat for her."

"And for me as well." Mallory stated with concern.