Rome, Italy
Rome, ItalyIt was the classic case of the spy walking into a bar.
Cort did what he always did in these situations; checked the crowd, checked for exits and checked for threats. All of which, with his expert eye, took him less than a heartbeat. So far, nothing to set the alarm bells ringing.
As a case-hardened CIA officer, you had to be aware of everything – and he meant everything. So it came as a jolt, a surprise, that he had missed her sitting in the corner booth. She was alone and had one beautifully tanned long leg draped over the other, giving the male contingent of the bar (and possibly one or two of the females, too) a glimpse of a perfectly toned thigh.
It was just after nine, late for the dinner crowd but too early for the serious drinkers, and the Bar Romano was o
