I stood on the metal grating outside the window, listening to the conversation inside, whilst my mind ran in frantic circles around my recent discovery. Why would Harvey send me to a international terrorist? He must have a reason, I decided, and, since the guy didn't seem to be entirely aware of his status as a renowned killer, it might just be safe to try and talk to him face to face.
As luck would have it, a knock at the door distracted Cindy, leaving Robert alone in the room with the window open. The second I heard the front door open, I peeked around the frame: he was standing with his back to me, pulling a slightly oversized t-shirt on. His hair was still bedraggled from the shower. He didn't look like a psychopath. He also didn't look armed, so I knocked lightly on the window, and slipped through just as he turned at the noise.
"Who the hell are you?"
He reached to his side, but found nothing, he suddenly glanced out of the door, there was a Glock lying on the living room table. He dashed out, grabbed it and ran back, aiming it directly at my head. I backed up against the wall, raising both hands.
"Hey! Wow! Calm down man, I'm a friend, I think."
He looked me up and down sceptically, and I risked a glance at myself: my lab coat was covered in blood and chemical stains, and my SIG was hanging from a holster that the coat completely failed to conceal.
Just then, I heard the door close again, and footsteps coming back to the room.
"Hey Robert, d'you think that- HOLY-!!!...Terence?!?"
I grinned weakly at her.
"Err...hi Cindy, I suppose this would be a bad time to ask for your medical expertise? I think I sprained my my ankle running from a Black Ops team."