The Crate had no bombs or traps, which he found to be suspicous, but the containers were secured and the contents intact. Putting the canisters into a small hiking backpack, and replacing the crate lid, he climbed back up the cold inside brick wall to the roof access latch. Rolling out of the curbstop onto the roof and scanning the rooflines for security personal and cameras, he found none, so he made his way to the edge. He started jumping from roof top to roof top till he was at a building at the waterfront warehouse districts edge, then climbing down a waterspout on the century old brick buildings exterior. This seemed way to easy to him, but things were going different than Ricks original plan had entailed, so he was playing this by ear. As he reached the ground, he swung the bag over his shoulder and took off the mask and leather gloves, stuffing them around the cannisters. The black walther ppk .380 in the small of his back, felt cold to the touch. He thought about ditching the weapon now, but held on to it, a untracable gun may come in handy. Having pick it up on the black market in Paris, it was a nice little side arm to pack around. He could see why James Bond carried it, small and concealable it was a reliable little weapon. The small Fiat Uno car he had rented was parked just three blocks over, on a street by a dockworkers bar. He could really go for a beer right now, if his french was better he might have gone there first.
Bridget was waiting back at the hotel for his return and being late would only aggrevate the situation with her. She was hot, no doubt about it, but was begining to grate on his nerves. It really was not her fault, it was his, she was not really the kind of girl he normally dated and the difference in culture and upbringing really showed through in the stress of the situation. She was really a proper girl, raised in a subburban neighborhood with brothers and sisters, mom and dad all right there. The youngest of five she still went home for sunday dinner. This was about as opposite of Barett as it came, his gritty past and selfish attitude, clashing with her naivity and belief in human goodness. But dang if she wasn't really good looking, he could tell they were going to breakup once they got back into London, and only regretted losing a girl as attractive as she was. Part of him thought that this was not really a healthy way to handle or precieve the relationship, but it was being drowned out by the practical, stoic side of him, thanks goodness. Jogging down the block and through a back alley, he stuck his head around the corner in the dark alley to check out the car before walking out into the lighted street. The street looked clear, minus the usual traffic, he was going to step out of the alley when movement in the car parked two down from his caught his attention. Holding back just a moment, he scanned and watched. The darkened windows of the older Audi sedan hid most of the insides, but the familiar glow of a cigar bobbed inside the car. Someone smoking in a car in France was nothing to be suspicious of, but the weight on the suspension showed that there was a load in the car. Barett could guess that at least five guys were in the car, two in front, three in the back, and from the way the back end was sagging they were big guys. He waited in the alley for several minutes, watching the other cars and buildings, nothing he could see beyond when he left the car except the Audi. What to do now, he retreated to the far end of the alley by a dumpster and cracke open the small cell phone. Pulling up Ricks number he dialed it in, the small screen showed that it was just pass midnight...he hesitated then cleared the number, erasing the call. What was he going to do ?
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