The light drizzle typical of London greeted Viona the moment she stepped out of the hotel lobby. The teenage girl pulled her thick brown coat tighter around herself, hiding part of her face behind a warm knitted scarf. The hotel she was staying in had been deliberately chosen by Daxter's security team because of its highly strategic location, only two blocks away from Thomas Clark's grand residence.
Across the street, not far from the diplomat's tall black gate, stood a small green park area with several wooden benches dampened by the morning dew. Viona walked slowly toward one of the benches sheltered beneath the thick branches of an old oak tree. From this spot, she could observe the main gate of the house without arousing suspicion. Within a few meters of her, two broad-shouldered men in civilian clothes stood casually near a public telephone booth, pretending to read newspapers, though their eyes remained alert as they watched over Viona.
