Chapter 2020 Morning in Nieddorf

7:03 AM.

Zurich is still asleep.

A thin layer of mist clings to the surface of the Limmat River, resembling a semi-transparent creature breathing slowly.

The cobblestones of the Old Town, soaked by last night's drizzle, glisten with a dark cyan glow under the sparse streetlights.

No wind.

Everything is so quiet it feels like it's been put on pause.

The grey Volkswagen Touran is parked in the timed parking spot by the riverbank, its body covered in a fine layer of dew.

In the back seat, "Squirrel" opens his eyes.

He doesn't know when he fell asleep.

Perhaps it was four o'clock, or maybe five.

But his biological clock woke him right at seven.

This is their fifth morning in Zurich, and he has gotten used to waking up at this time, like a programmed animal.

In the passenger seat, Grey Wolf doesn't move.

"Squirrel" can't make out his face; he can only see half an eye reflected in the rearview mirror.

That eye is open, its gaze fixed on a point outside the window like a stone.

"Squirrel" doesn't say a word.

He slowly sits up, flexes his stiff neck, and pulls a nail clipper from his jacket pocket.

Click.

Click.

Click.

He begins trimming the nail on his right pinky finger.

It's a habit he developed from a young age—to trim his nails when he's nervous, bored, or waiting.

Not for cleanliness, just to have something in his hand.

His mother called it neurotic, his instructor called it a self-soothing mechanism; he himself thought it was a load of crap boredom.

Grey Wolf doesn't turn around, but "Squirrel" knows he's awake.

People like them don't differ between being asleep and awake; only the eyes are open or closed, the body's alertness level doesn't change.

"Boss." "Squirrel" cautiously whispers.

Grey Wolf doesn't respond.

"Squirrel" glances at the time on the dashboard.

7:04 AM.

Fifty-one minutes left.

He puts away the nail clipper and pulls a tablet out from beneath the seat, turning it on.

The screen's brightness is set to the lowest, barely illuminating his fingers in the dim car interior.

Building schematics.

Surveillance system topology.

Alarm system wiring diagram.

Electrical distribution diagram.

Fire escape diagram.

Surrounding neighborhood map.

Foot traffic heatmap.

Timeline analysis.

Five days of intelligence combined with the surveillance data provided by the British girl is all in this tablet now.

"Squirrel" flips through it like reviewing exam material.

But in fact, he could recite every piece of data with his eyes closed—

The business center was built in 1903, originally a warehouse for a textile factory.

Renovated and remodeled in 2014, with added fire and security systems.

Six stories, no basement, main staircase on the east side, fire escape on the west side.

Each floor has eight rooms, Room 316 is street-facing, windows oriented southeast, area of 47.3 square meters.

The surveillance system has a total of eight cameras, two analog, six digital.

Analog cameras cover the front and back doors, digital cameras cover the corridors, elevators, and stairwells.

The recorder is in the first-floor duty room, 2TB hard drive, loop recording, retention time of thirty days.

Alarm system: Swiss Securitas 3000 series, magnetic contacts on doors and windows, infrared curtains, thirty-two zones.

Arming time is from 8 PM to 7 AM on weekdays, always armed on weekends.

Alarm signal is transmitted via phone line to a security company monitoring center, response time is six to eight minutes.

Target person—a male, approximately fifty-five years old, height 1.75 meters, weight 75 kilograms, grey hair, wearing rimless glasses. Arrives at the workplace at 7:55 AM every weekday, starts the computer and coffee machine at 8:00 AM, and begins working at 8:05 AM.

Has a set phone call every Thursday morning at 10 AM, with a call duration of about forty minutes, the opposite number is in Luxembourg.

"Squirrel" puts the tablet aside and leans back in the seat.

A layer of mist has formed on the car window. He wipes a small part of the glass with his fingers and looks outside.

Niederdorf Street has not woken up yet.

The corner bakery's lights are on, a warm yellow glow emanating from its windows, and the smell of baking bread seems to seep through the car window.

"Squirrel's" stomach twinges slightly.

He's a bit hungry, but he knows it's not time for breakfast.

There is no one on the street.

In the boutique's window, mannequins are wearing next season's new styles, their poses stiff, expressions blank.

The Swiss United Bank branch's front doors are closed, the ATM screen at the entrance flickers with blue light in the morning glow, like the eye of a mechanical creature.

"Squirrel's" gaze moves upward.

Third floor, Room 316.

Window shut, blinds drawn, nothing inside is visible.

The blinds are off-white, aluminum alloy material, with a slat width of five centimeters.

Two days ago, "Poison Snake" took long-range photos from there.

The window lock is an old-fashioned latch, with about a two-millimeter gap between the slats, enough for observation, but not enough for shooting.

"'Poison Snake' in position."

The sudden voice in his earpiece makes "Squirrel's" body instinctively tense.

Grey Wolf's fingers twitch.

"Location." he says.

This is the first time he speaks this morning.

"Eleven o'clock direction from you, second floor of the clock tower, behind the window. Clear view, wind deviation is negligible."

"Squirrel" looks up at the clock tower.

It's the landmark of Niedorf, built in the seventeenth century, the grey stone walls are covered with ivy.

The windows of the clock tower are black holes, no silhouettes can be seen, but "Squirrel" knows sniper "Poison Snake" is hiding there.

"Squirrel." Grey Wolf calls him.