He slid the window open. It was a tight squeeze, but the thermal overlay on his goggles showed him exactly where the target—a corrupt financier named Marchand—had been sitting moments ago. The chair was still glowing with the ghostly white heat of a warm body.
He heard footsteps in the hallway. Heavy. Rhythmic. Marchand. nvg paris
The door opened. Marchand stepped in, backlit by the warm, yellow light of the hallway. He slid the window open