Double Dealing: A Menage Romance(48)

"I know that," I said, a bit pissed off. While I understood Francois's concern, I’d come to terms with the situation. I wasn't a child, after all. "In case you hadn't noticed, Germany happens to be one of the biggest centers of hard rock and metal music in Europe. I've learned a lot about the scene over there. But what you have to get through that impressively handsome yet thick skull of yours, is that I’m not going to be some damsel in distress sitting around on my ass waiting while you two run off committing felonies all over the continent. I may not go on the job with you, but I’m going to be involved and with you as much as I can."

I was breathing hard, staring a hole into Francois, the air heavy with tension, when musical laughter came from behind us. Turning my head, I saw Charani and Syeira both holding their sides, laughing quietly. "She's the one!" Charani said, looking at us. "For sure."

"She is," Syeira added. "Handsome yet thick skull!"

Both women started laughing again, and Francois threw his hands up, storming out of the kitchen area. I looked at Felix, who shrugged. "If you want to come along, then so be it. But you’re going to be on the sidelines.”





Chapter 21





Francois




I couldn’t believe it the next morning when, at sunup, Felix led Jordan on a run through the vineyard, leading her up and down the rows until she was dripping with sweat and her legs quivered as she came back. I was preparing breakfast as they returned. "Should you really be doing that on a turned ankle?" I asked him when they came in. "You’ll be worse than useless if you’re hobbling around on the job."

“I’ll be fine, and the pace was easy," Felix replied casually. "It was a good way for me to work some flexibility back into it."

"You call it easy, but I'm about ready to die," Jordan gasped, her face slightly pale from her exertions. "What is a fast pace for you?"

"Five-minute miles on level ground," I answered, stirring breakfast in the sauté pan. I adore my mother's cooking, but I enjoy cooking for myself as well, and it does help me calm myself. "Usually for ten kilometers or so. What's that, six miles I think?"

"Yes," Felix replied, sitting down and unlacing his running shoe. He’d worn an ankle support under his sock, unstrapping it before pointing his toe and starting with the rehabilitation exercises that we'd learned as children, writing the alphabet with his big toe on the ground. It wasn't for strengthening as much as it was for keeping the joint supple and moving. "The biggest thing for you Jordan isn’t going to be combat or acrobatics. If you’re ever in such a position, things have gone very, very wrong. Instead, you’ll focus on evasion and escape, which is more using your eyes and your brain than anything else."

Jordan was crestfallen, but she understood. After a hearty breakfast, enough that she would have plenty of fuel to recover from her exertions of the day, Felix and I got down to work. Jordan watched for a moment, then went back to Felix's bedroom to change clothes. I watched her go, then turned back to the computer. Pulling up the detailed blueprints that had come on the disc, I was surprised at the level of detail that my contact had provided us with.

Of course I knew the cover story of a repossession of the property in Durres was a crock of shit. Still, they wanted the book, that was for damn sure. If it wasn't that I had ulterior motives, I'd be tempted to try and keep the book for myself. "I hate trying to do a job in Paris," Felix muttered as we looked at the screen. "There are too many people who know who we are. The odds of being recognized are infinitely higher."

"They are higher, but Felix, we're transients even in Paris," I commented, trying to assuage his fears. I wanted him confident, knowing he wouldn't see it coming when the trap was sprung. "I'm more worried about the building itself. The architecture is unique."

That, at least, was true. In order to fit the building to the oddly shaped plot of land next to the River Seine, the Arab Institute was curved on one side, a side that was fronted with mostly glass. This created a lot of odd angles for trying to enter the building, and it got worse when we got inside. Taking cues from the Middle Eastern designs that it was paying homage to, the building used walls, beams, and other features to mimic the shading techniques used in traditional Arab buildings. It created not only lots of open space but also a lot of areas where a sensor could be hidden very easily, making casing for security sensors nearly impossible. We'd have to attack the security system higher up, not worrying about individual sensors but instead the hub of the system.

"The design I'm not worried about. I'm more worried about the actual security systems in place. Let's face it, it's a f*cking target right now with the tensions, they've got to have enough security forces around there just in case shit pops off again. After the terror attacks, I'm surprised they haven't been bombed at least once," Felix said. "What sort of surveillance and armed guards do they have roaming around that place?"

"We'll have to get eyes on, and see if the Germans can help us," I countered, then grinned. "And you spent too much time in Los Angeles, trying phrases like 'shit pops off.' In the meantime, I have a more personal question. How serious are you about Jordan coming with us?"