Page 43 of France Face-Off
“Our mission-ready agents are from around the world, to include US Special Forces, UK SAS operatives and Israeli Sayeret—all highly trained and skilled in combat and stealth operations.”
“Good to know.” Striker sighed. “Who has the contact with the CIA?”
“Hank Patterson,” Lucie and Dmytro spoke simultaneously.
“One of Dmytro’s informants gave us the tip about the potential attack on the Russians,” Lucie said. “Not that he has any love for them since their attempt to reclaim the Ukraine.”
Dmytro uttered something that sounded like a curse in Ukrainian.
Striker glanced at the clock, anxious to finish the conversation and get back down to the first floor. “In order to hand over the flash drive, Alex would like to meet personally with a representative of the CIA…at Langley. They will need her biometrics to get into the file, anyway.”
“We can make that happen,” Lucie said. “When?”
“As soon as you can set it up.”
“I’ll get right on it,” Lucie said.
“In the meantime, is she safe?” Dmytro asked.
“She’s in the Energy Summit meeting surrounded by delegates from all over. The security is pretty tight. I’m about to head down to her.”
“Good,” Dmytro said. “Safeguard her and that flash drive.”
Lucie added, “We can only imagine what’s so highly important in that code.”
Striker stood. “I’m on my way back down. They should be breaking for lunch soon.” He paused. “Lucie?”
“Yes, Striker?”
“My original assignment was to protect the Russians. Am I still working that mission?”
“I’ve been following the summit meetings,” Lucie said. “They’re not going well and probably will continue to be contentious. I’m more worried about what’s in that software that has so many upset and eager to get to Alex to take it from her or let it die with her. Stick with Alex. She’s your number one priority for now. “
“Good. I’m on it.”
“And expect a call soon from Ace,” Dmytro added.
“Roger.” Striker ended the call and hurried out to the elevator, taking it down to the first floor. When he stepped out of the elevator, he saw security guards rushing across the huge lobby, urging people to leave through the exit doors. Members of the staff and security guards ran toward the conference rooms.
Striker ran with them until one of the hotel staff members turned to see him and said something in French.
“I don’t speak French,” Striker said without slowing.
The man caught his arm. “Monsieur, you must leave the hotel. There has been a bomb threat.”
Striker shook off the man’s hand. “My fiancée is in the Energy Summit. I’m not leaving without her.” By then, they had reached the room in which the meetings had taken place.
A security guard emerged from the conference room.
When Striker tried to move past him, he stuck out an arm and rattled off something in French.
“Damn it,” Striker bit out, “I don’t speak French.”
The guard switched to English. “The room is empty. The delegates left through the rear exit. They have been moved across the street, away from Hotel Le Negresco. If you’re looking for someone, look there. Now, please, leave the building.”
Striker pushed past him and ran across the large conference room to the rear exit and down a short corridor to a loading dock.
A truck was just pulling out of the ramp. No one else could be seen.
