“I think we have a problem,” Philippe said calmly.

Ricardo frowned. He was a Spaniard from the Basque region. He didn’t like problems.

“What is it?”

Philippe held up the arrivals sheet. “Lubin, Alex.”

Ricardo tapped a few keys on his computer with a manicured forefinger.

“Twelve nights? Ski rental required? Who took this reservation?”

“I believe it was Nadine.”

Nadine was the new girl. She worked the graveyard shift. And for the crime of granting a room to someone called Alex Lubin without first consulting Ricardo, she would do so for all eternity.

“You think he’s Russian?” Ricardo asked.

“Guilty as charged.”

Ricardo accepted the verdict without appeal. Though senior in rank, he was twenty years Philippe’s junior and had come to rely heavily upon the older man’s experience and judgment.

“Perhaps we can dump him on our competitors.”

“Not possible. There isn’t a room to be had between here and Albertville. ”

“Then I suppose we’re stuck with him-unless, of course, he can be convinced to leave on his own.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Plan B, of course.”

“It’s rather extreme, don’t you think?”

“Yes, but it’s the only way.”

The former paratrooper accepted his orders with a crisp nod and began planning the operation. It commenced at 4:12 P.M., when a dark gray Mercedes sedan with Geneva registration pulled up at the front steps and sounded its horn. Philippe remained at his pulpit for a full two minutes before donning his greatcoat at considerable leisure and heading slowly outside. By now the unwanted Monsieur Alex Lubin- twelve nights, ski rental required-had left his car and was standing angrily next to the open trunk. He had a face full of sharp angles and pale blond hair arranged carefully over a broad pate. His narrow eyes were cast downward into the trunk, toward a pair of large nylon suitcases. The concierge frowned at the bags as if he had never seen such objects before, then greeted the guest with a glacial warmth.