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I looked at him.
His voice had that steel edge to it—the one that came out when he was pretending not to care about something he cared about deeply.
“Four guards,” I said, forcing my tone neutral. “Two at the front, two on patrol. Eight-minute loops. That’s the outside.”
“Inside could be double that—or more—especially if they’re nervous.”
“Do you think they are? Have we tipped our hand?” I asked, suddenly worried he might affirm that suspicion.
He thought a moment. “No, I don’t think so. There’s been nothing to connect us to the girl. If anything, they could think we might go after her father. Still, I doubt they suspect what we’re after.”
We turned down a narrow side street and continued on foot, still watching for a cab. Budapest wasn’t a city that moved quickly at night. The trams stopped too early, the taxis disappeared like ghosts, and the people—especially the ones not aligned, not privileged—stayed inside behind curtains and padlocked doors.
Will reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his gloves, chewing his lip as he put them on. “If we hit the front,” he said, “we draw all the fire; but if we hit the back, and they’ve got a second fence or guard shack, we get trapped.”
“We’ll need eyes on both. At once.”
Will nodded. “Two-pronged. Diversion at the gate. Pressure the perimeter. That draws them forward, then we go in the back.”
What the hell kind of diversion could we create that wouldn’t raise suspicion in a posh residential neighborhood? The hissing cat wouldn’t be enough, but our options were limited. I pinched the bridge of my nose, hoping a little pressure might jar an idea free. It didn’t work.
A cab finally rolled past at the next intersection. Will raised a hand, but it kept going. The driver barely looked at us. Maybe he knew. Maybe he just didn’t want trouble.
We kept walking.
I counted the blocks in my head. We’d need to circle back toward the major boulevard in ten minutes or we’d draw attention.
“Tomorrow night,” I said. “It has to be. We’re running out of room, and if they move her, we’ll lose our window.”
Will didn’t argue. He just stepped a little closer to me on the sidewalk and muttered, “Egret’s going to hate this.”
I smirked. “Sparrow will be the one to talk him down. She always is.”
“She’s the one with sense.”
I grinned. “She’s the one with good aim.”
We paused at the corner of a wide avenue. A tram clattered by, dark and empty, likely headed back to its station for a night of rest. Sparks snapped off the line overhead like fireflies under siege.
I glanced across the street.
A cab sat idling near a café, its engine puffing into the frosty night. A single light still burned in the café window, golden and soft.
Will nudged me. “That one?”
I nodded.
He stepped into the street, hand up, and the cabbie waved us in with a tired glance.
As we slid into the back seat, I felt warmth crawl up my legs from the heater, sudden and almost too much. Will leaned back, head against the window. I could still see the strain in his jaw.
“We’ll get her,” I whispered.
His hand found mine in the space between us.
“I know,” he said.
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