The safe house was a walk-up apartment on the Left Bank. Old building. Creaky stairs. A view of a courtyard where no one ever went. Cole stood by the window. The street below was quiet. Paris was sleeping.
Kane sat at a small table. Maps spread in front of him. Photographs. Notes.
“The building is in the Marais,” Kane said. “Four stories. Apartment on the top floor. She has the whole floor. No neighbors.”
“Security?”
“Two men at the street entrance. Two in the lobby. Two outside her door. Plus her personal bodyguard. A woman. Former French special forces.”
Cole turned from the window. “That's six. Plus Diana.”
“Plus Diana. She's trained. Armed. Dangerous.”
“So are we.”
Kane nodded. “The team is in position. We go at midnight.”
“Why midnight?”
“Shift change. The guards are tired.
