23
Louvre, Paris, France. 11.15pm
Sometimes it was necessary to change the plan mid way through an operation. That was the nature of warfare, of espionage and Jake kept colleagues at a distance, preferring to be called aloof than to suffer loss as keenly as he had once before.
But these defense mechanisms shattered when he realized that Morgan was gone.
He walked down yet another corridor of the Louvre Palace, knowing even as he did so that he wouldn’t find her in this maze of culture. He stopped in front of a striking painting by Delaroche. A young woman in white lay as if sleeping in calm water, her pale face lit by moonlight and the gold of a halo. Her hands were tightly bound with a leather strap and above her a dark figure loomed, looking down on his victim. A portrait of the afte
