The Grande Hotel de Paris was not that grand, nor was it in Paris.  It lay hidden in a steep narrow road off of the Avenida dos Aliados in the centre of old Porto.  Sue rather liked the quirky décor and the labyrinthine layout.  And like all buildings of a certain age, the creaking floorboards made it impossible to creep up unannounced.  She climbed the stairs leading to the reception.
 
“Senhora,” greeted the porter, short even by Portuguese standards, dapper in a three-piece suit despite the warmth of the day.  “Room four, yes?”
 
“Quatro, sim.”
 
The porter turned to the pigeonholes behind him and picked up a key.
 
“You have been to the port lodges?”
 
“No.  I don’t drink.”
 
He froze, the key in his hand.  “You don’t drink?”
 
“No.”
 
“Not even vinho do porto?”
 
“No.”  Sue held out her hand.  The porter gave her the key, his face picture of confusion.
 
“Not even – “ He searched for a more innocent drink.
 
“Not even,” confirmed Sue.
 
“Then why are you in Porto?”
 
The fado.”  She winked at him.  “And the men.  Obrigada.”
 
“De nada,” he stuttered, grinning.  “Oh, um minuto.”  He hurried over to a side table, grabbed a card and proffered it.  “This place, it’s good.”
 
“Good for men?”
 
“Não, não..”  Sue wondered if he could go redder.  “Fado.  The other places are for tourists.  This place is good.  Muito bem.”
 
Sue laughed and took the card.  “Obrigada.”
 
“Why do you do that?” asked Mark.  “The poor guy.”
 
“Receptionists, waiters and security guards make the world run smoothly, if they like you,” she muttered.  She walked past the tiny bar, up four steps and turned at the restaurant towards her room.
 
“Wait up,” said Mark.  Sue stopped dead and scanned the corridor.  Nothing looked out of place.
 
“Go back to your boyfriend.”
 
“Why?”
 
“I don’t know.  Tell them we’re going to be checking out early.”
 
Sue turned, the familiar sick feeling in her stomach as the adrenalin hit her.  “Really would appreciate a heads up here, Mark.”
 
“Trust me.”
 
“Always.”
 
She retraced her steps to the reception.
 
“You saw the guy in the bar, not reading the tourist brochure he had open in front of him?” said Mark.
 
“Yes,” said Sue, “Hi.”  She smiled at the porter behind the desk.
 
“Senhora?”
 
“He was still not reading it when we came back.  He wasn’t making eye contact with you either.”
 
“Okay.  Um, I’m going to be leaving early, I’m afraid.  I’ll need to check out tomorrow.”
 
“I’m sorry.  The hotel is okay, yes?” asked the porter, worried.
 
“Oh, sure.  Nothing to do with you.  Quite the opposite, I’d like to stay longer.  No, I’ve just got an email.  I have to be somewhere else.  So you can have my bill ready tomorrow?  A conta amanha?”
 
“Yes, of course.”
 
She turned towards the exit and contemplated whether to make a run for it, or pretend she didn’t know and see what happened next.
 
“Stuff it,” she said, and turned towards the bar.
 
The watcher sat on a two-seater couch.  He’d changed brochure and appeared, unconvincingly, to be interested in a tour of mountain monasteries.  He was in his late twenties, fit without being musclebound and as credible as a pork butcher at a Bar Mitzvah.
 
Sue dropped onto the couch next to him and treated him to a big smile.
 
“Hi,” she said.
 
“What are you doing?” asked Mark.
 
“Trust me.”
 
“Sorry?”  The watcher had a good poker face, but there was panic behind his eyes.
 
“What’s your name?” asked Sue.
 
“Um, John?”
 
“Lie,” said Mark, in her ear.
 
“No, I mean your real name,” said Sue.  “I’m Sue, but you know that.  So who do you work for?”
 
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
 
“Major Townsend?”
 
“Bingo,” said Mark.
 
“Okay, the Major has you on babysitting duty, keeping an eye on me, making sure I don’t have it away on my toes.  No back door to this place.  My room has a window that has a two storey drop to the shop next door’s courtyard.  Not much chance of me taking that route, not with my knees.  I could maybe vault the fence around the restaurant garden, but you’d see me going that way from here.  So maybe you’re the only one watching me.  Maybe you’re not.”
 
“Only one,” said Mark.
 
She patted his knee and was rewarded by him squirming uncomfortably at the contact.  He was already uncomfortable with her sitting so close, invading his space.
 
“I’ll tell you what, not-John.  The major has given me a shit load of data to wade through, plus all the intel I have to gather.  This place’s wi-fi is adequate at best.  I’m going to spend the rest of the day in my room.  I’m going to get a pizza delivered to my room for lunch.  If you want you can knock on my door now and then to make sure I’m still here.  Then I’m going out for dinner, maybe about eight.  Not here, somewhere genuine.  Now you can tail me, you and a couple of your mates, and I’ll pretend I don’t know you, and you can stand out in the street and watch me feeding my face while your stomach rumbles, or you can join me.  That way you can keep much closer tabs on me, you get to eat decent food and the Major can pick up the tab.”
 
She rose and stood over him.
 
“You’ll need to clear it with the Major, obviously.  Remind him of our talents.  I’ll spot any tails he puts on me, so it makes sense for us to stop pretending.  I eat on my own too much.  It’s a win-win.  Don’t feel bad.  Reading people is what I do.”  She started towards the corridor, then stopped and turned.  “And make sure he knows he’s picking up the tab for dinner.”
 
“Well, that wasn’t in the play book,” said Mark as she walked down the corridor.
 
“I got a free dinner, didn’t I?”
 
“Is this a sexual thing?  Are you and he going to get nasty?”
 
“He’s ten years younger than me.”
 
“And?”
 
Sue grinned as she put the key in the lock.
 
“And I don’t say anything about where you stick your data port.”
 
“My interactions are meetings of the mind.  Seriously, though, was that a wise move?”
 
She shrugged as she entered the room.
 
“I’m just tired of all the bullshit, that’s all.  If I’m going to be spied on I want to look in their eyes while they do it.  Good spot, by the way.”
 
“It’s what we do.”
 
Sue dropped her shoulder bag onto the bed. 
 
“Read ‘em and lead ‘em.”  Sue pulled the drive from her bag and placed it on the small desk.  “How you feeling?”
 
“I could do with some juice.”
 
“No problem.”
 
Sue pulled the charger from her bag, plugged it in and placed the induction pad on her shoulder.
 
“Have you read the files he gave us?”  Sue switched on the TV and linked it to her phone.
 
“Yes.  Standard stuff.  Too light on details though.”
 
“There’s a surprise.  Give me the short version.”
 
“The target’s Nigel Stroman.  English, Sandurst, fast-tracked straight into the department.  No blots on his copy-book.  Straight bat mostly, but prepared to be inventive when he needs to.  In Lisbon for the conference to personally oversee the pairs.  Four of them, by the way.  Not a pair himself.  No hint as to why they suspect him.  They’ve given us a cover that is total crap.  We can’t use it.  Stroman’s taken over a couple of serviced apartments near Lisbon airport.  The talks are taking place in a couple of government buildings near the docks.  We’re going to have to come up with a workable cover, an approach to reading him cold and a way to avoid any of the other pairs.”
 
Sue sighed.  “Piece of piss, then.  We’ll just come up with a perfect plan before dinner.”
 
“There’s more.”
 
“Of course there is.  Okay, hit me.”
 
“One of the pairs is Stephen.”
 
Sue stared at the screen, blind to the display.
 
“Shit,” she whispered.