Hand that weilds them

The darkness of the night had blanketed the surroundings as Leandre pulled up in his car, nestled at the end of a desolate street. The place was devoid of any hustle and bustle, with only a handful of pedestrians ambling about. His eyes fixated on a place that read 'On the tours travel agency.' 

The travel agency had managed to dupe the unsuspecting, but not him. Leandre could sense something amiss, two shadowy figures lurking in the distance, their black shirts and caps a dead giveaway. He knew they were keeping a watchful eye, waiting for someone to make an inquiry about the travel agency, a signal for them to alert their boss.

Leandre's mind was consumed with thoughts of his precise plan to enter the agency undetected, but a sharp pain on his wrist jolted him out of his reverie.