Julian Vance stopped in his tracks, his gaze chilling as he looked at Vivienne. His voice was a flat, clinical monotone. "We will proceed strictly by the protocol of the Milice, Vivienne. I expect the intelligence you’ve provided to be more reliable than your previous loyalties."
Vivienne didn't flinch. She adjusted her gloves, a predator’s smile playing on her lips. "I prefer business to be strict, Julian. And don’t worry about the intelligence. It’s ironclad."
Inside the fortress of 83 Avenue Foch, in the office of the Signals and Cryptography department, Adelaide de Molay stood by the tall, arched window. She pulled back the heavy velvet curtain just enough to see the courtyard below.
She watched as Julian and Vivienne climbed into a black Ford sedan, followed by two vans filled with
