Nevertheless, they were distinctive enough to catch the attention of the man with the satellite phone, lurking in the shadows across the street. When they were a fair distance away, he trailed them in almost total silence, broken only by the whispered report he was making:
“Yes, Mr. Rakovic, sir. They answer the description, right enough, but I don’t reckon as how it can be them. I mean to say… they’ve just come out of a damn church, of all places. Wouldn’t you have thought-”
“You would,” replied Alexander Rakovic, from his isolated home on the outskirts of Bucharest, “and it’s got me confused, I can’t deny. But they are the ones. Follow them. Find out where they’re staying. But don’t take any action until I have arrived. I want to be there when we find her. Expect me tomorrow night. Over.”