Sokolov gave the woman a quick, courteous bob of the head before stepping out. He glanced back and just caught sight of her studying him before the doors liberated him from her icy stare. He took in his surroundings. The lobby, which was darkly lit and finished with a moody contemporary wallpaper that depicted a forest of thin tree trunks, led to two corridors, one on either side. A discreet sign indicated that apartments A through C were to the left, with D and E to the right. Five apartments. Sokolov cursed inwardly and choked his hat and scarf with his left hand. He had no idea which one housed Rogozin. His eyes darted left and right, his mind struggling for an insight to grab hold of. He wondered about waiting for someone else to arrive on that floor, someone he could ask, then quickly dismissed the idea. People in buildings like these would be suspicious. They’d wonder how he got up there in the first place if he hadn’t been invited up by a resident whose apartment number he would obviously have to know.
