That Time in Paris by Logan Ryles (best ebook reader under 100 .txt) 📗

A hundred questions boiled into his mind, but this didn’t seem like the right time to ask them or press an advantage over Kevin.

“Meg?” Edric said,

She turned around. “What’s my identity?”

“Rebecca and Paul Listener, from Toronto.” Edric produced a pair of fake Canadian passports from his coat and passed them to Wolfgang and Megan. “You’ve been married for three years. Paul teaches humanities at Centennial College, and Rebecca is a full-time art critic. You’re traveling to Paris on vacation, and your invite was courtesy of a friend in the art world. Be vague about that.”

Wolfgang admired the passport, feeling the smooth perfection of the laminated pages, and tilted the primary ID page in the light to examine the inlaid Canadian seal. The passport was a perfect fake—or very close to it.

“The mission is simple,” Edric said. “Kevin will drive you in and remain on standby for exfiltration, and if it comes to it, additional firepower. Once you’re inside the gala, make your way around the party until you locate Raven. Stay with him until he meets with Spider. Wolfgang, we’ll need a full facial image. Use the watch.”

Wolfgang nodded. “What about the Russians?”

“Protecting Spider is still our primary objective—at least until he completes his rendezvous with Raven. After that, the CIA has requested we forestall any sort of fireworks until Raven has left Paris. Remember, they’re looking for plausible deniability here. So, ideally, we’ll shield Spider until the end of the gala. Then we’ll withdraw, and what happens, happens.”

“What about Wolfgang?” Kevin asked. His voice was still sulky but less hostile. “The Russians will recognize him.”

Edric nodded. “Unfortunately, that’s true. Wolfgang, were you able to identify the sniper?”

Wolfgang shook his head. There was no point in lying about it. “No, I never saw his face.”

“Okay. In that case, he’ll identify you before you identify him. That’s not ideal, but it could put the Russians on guard. They know you aren’t actually a humanities professor, but it’s not like they’ll set off any alarms. After all, they’re working under false identities, also. The most important thing is for you to pick them out as soon as possible. Feed Lyle as many facial images as you can, and look out for the usual signals—body language, people who look out of place, people who are checking out faces more than they’re checking out paintings.”

“No problem,” Wolfgang said. “What happens after I find them?”

“Hopefully, nothing. Stay between them and Spider, and stall for time. As soon as Raven and Spider complete their rendezvous, Raven will leave, and Spider probably will, also.”

“What if the Russians . . . you know . . .” Wolfgang trailed off, unsure if he was playing up a movie stereotype.

“Go full Ivan, and light the place up?” Edric leaned against the wall, rubbing his chin with one hand. “There’s not a lot we can do about that. Kevin will be on standby in case you need additional muscle. If you’re confident the Russians are about to turn up the heat, I guess I’d rather you disable them. Quietly, of course.”

Wolfgang exchanged a glance with Megan. “I understand.”

The room was silent for a minute as Kevin’s brooding darkness hung over them like a black cloud. Wolfgang knew they were all thinking the same thing.

He cleared his throat. “Look, I screwed up today. I realize you guys are taking a risk by working with somebody you don’t know. And I just want to say . . . I’ve got your backs. You can trust me.”

There was a hint of a smile on Edric’s face, too vague to call, but it still gave Wolfgang some reassurance.

“Everything that happened this morning is behind us,” Edric said. “We move as a team, now. Charlie gets it done.”

Megan grunted. “Charlie gets it done, but Charlie’s gonna need shopping money.”

8

Wolfgang stood in the main sitting room of the hotel suite and fidgeted with his cuff links. Following the brief, Megan had left the hotel and returned two hours later with a couple of shopping bags and two shoeboxes. She produced a brand-new tux from one bag, complete with a black bowtie, a pressed shirt, and silver cuff links. Wolfgang wasn’t sure if a professor from a liberal arts college would wear cuff links, but he wasn’t about to question her.

Megan disappeared into one bedroom, and Wolfgang dressed. Kevin left to rent a car that could pass as a private taxi, and Edric took a shower. Wolfgang wondered how you showered with a full-arm cast, and decided he probably didn’t want to know.

“How do I look?”

Wolfgang turned to Lyle, flexing his arms and wiggling his shoulders beneath the jacket. Lyle looked over his computer screen, squinting through his smudged glasses. Then, to Wolfgang’s surprise, he stood up and stepped around the table, approaching Wolfgang and inspecting him from head to toe.

The tux fit well. It wasn’t a custom garment by any stretch, but Wolfgang felt good in it. He just wished it left room for his gun. There was no chance of squeezing the Berretta into the confines of the form-fitting jacket, and he felt a little naked.

Lyle nodded once, then reached up and adjusted Wolfgang’s bowtie. “Almost good enough,” Lyle said.

“Good enough?” Wolfgang laughed. “Good enough for what?”

Lyle pointed toward the bedroom as the door clicked open. “To stand next to her.”

Wolfgang turned, and the breath caught in his throat. Megan wore a jet-black evening gown, long enough to trail the floor, with a slit that ran up her right leg to just inches below her waist. The gown hugged her hips and was suspended by a single shoulder strap that rode just to the left of her neck.

Her hair was pinned back on one side, while the majority of her locks flowed loosely over her shoulders and down her exposed back. Her crimson lipstick matched her hair in a darker shade of red, but the whole ensemble was offset by an awkwardness in her posture that Wolfgang hadn’t seen before.

Wolfgang swallowed, and Lyle laughed.

“What?” Megan snapped, avoiding his gaze.

“Nothing,” Wolfgang mumbled. “You . . . you look