Then he scanned what looked like court deposition forms, yanked open the drawer and slid them in, but not before checking something there already. Satisfied, he slammed the drawer shut and laid his meaty hands on his blotter. He watched Korschak head down the hallway to the kitchen, and then turned to Felix again.

“Is that too loud for you today?”

“No. I’m fine.”

“A change from yesterday, then. Let’s get ready.”

Gebhart took keys out of his pocket, fingered his way to the one for the armory, and then squinted up at Felix.

“Remember,” he said. “I really don’t want to hear about it if you’re not one hundred percent because of your, extracurricular, is that the word? This is a paramilitary service you’re in. That’s page two of the manual. Memorize it. You know where the Gendarmerie is from, right? When we had the Turks thinking they’d plunder our green valleys here?”

Felix nodded.

“Pack the gear. Make sure you get the proper tripod, that new one.”

Felix signed out his Glock first. He laid it on the cloth and then replaced each of the cartridges in the clip in turn, feeling the slightly oily smoothness of their tips as each clicked home. He checked the pistol’s action for the regulation six times. Then he inserted the clip, and safetied the pistol. He’d make sure that Gebi would see him loading the pistol later.

Next he replaced the cartridges in the spare, and slid the holster on his belt to just in front of his hip bone. The leather was still stiff and the button clasp on the cover took work to get thumbed down. The Kripo had had the American quick release for years now.

Banditti, Gebi called them.

“Load,” he said to Gebhart.

Gebi nodded and watched him draw one into the chamber, and put the safety back on.