That Time in Paris Logan Ryles (top 100 novels of all time .txt) 📖

gaze and crashed onto the nearest couch, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Kevin barreled in a moment later. His bottom lip bled from a cut, and he looked ready to commit murder. “He blew it!” Kevin shouted, spitting blood and saliva and pointing at Wolfgang. “We should never have brought him. He’s a liability!”

“Get a drink, Kevin,” Edric said. His voice was calm, but there was an edge of restrained anger just beneath the surface.

Kevin stumbled to the minibar and poured himself three shots of bourbon. Megan, with cheeks flushed, settled into a chair across from Wolfgang and dusted off her pants.

Edric turned to Wolfgang, took a sip of his drink, and cleared his throat. “What the hell happened, Wolf?”

“I told you. I saw a sniper on the fourth floor of the apartment building across from the café. He had a clear shot down Saint-Germain and of the window where Raven was sitting. I made a call.”

“You made a call?” Kevin said. “Are you kidding me?” He slammed his glass down and barreled across the room, making it halfway before Megan shot her foot out. Kevin almost tripped, catching himself on the edge of a chair.

“Sit down, Kevin,” Edric said. He turned back to Wolfgang. “What do you mean, you made a call?”

“The sniper was gonna have a clean shot if I didn’t move in. It was a calculated risk, and I made a call. I moved in.”

“Right. Only you’re not paid to make calls, are you? I’m paid to make calls. You’re paid to obey them.”

“Come on, Edric.” Wolfgang rolled his eyes. “You trained me to use my head.”

“I did. But I also trained you to follow orders, and what you did today not only had the potential to blow the entire operation, it also endangered the lives of every person on this team. Have you considered that?”

“If I didn’t move, he could’ve made the shot.”

“I’m aware of that,” Edric said, his tone boiling with growing tension. “Let me tell you what else I was aware of. I was aware that Lyle was having difficulties with the satellite but was only moments away from obtaining a clear image of the target. Do you know how valuable it would’ve been to confirm identity on Spider? We never got the chance because you spooked him before Lyle got the image.”

“The Russian was gonna shoot.”

“Probably not. Most likely he would have waited for Spider to sit down with Raven because the Russians aren’t clear on this guy’s identity, either. Even if he did plan to take Spider out on Saint-Germain, Kevin knew where the sniper was, which means he knew how much time we had before the Russian had a clear shot, and we needed that time to get the satellite working. You didn’t know that because it’s not your job to know that. It’s my job.”

Wolfgang swallowed and glanced around the room. He noticed Lyle for the first time. The wiz sat in the far corner behind the lunch table, nestled behind computers. His beady eyes overlooked a laptop screen, watching Wolfgang.

Wolfgang looked away. “You’re right,” he mumbled. “I was out of line. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry,” Kevin snarled. “Lot of good that does.”

Edric turned to Kevin. “I’m not happy with you, either, hotshot. I told you to stay on Spider. Where is he?”

Kevin’s gaze dropped to the floor, and his cheeks flushed.

“You lost him,” Edric said. “So, now Spider is gone, the Russians know what Wolfgang looks like, and the CIA is raising hell. This entire operation is teetering on the edge of collapse for one reason—this team failed to maintain discipline. I’ve never seen such a shit show in my life. We were all over the place!”

Edric’s voice rose in intensity as he spoke, ripping through the room like a hail of bullets. Wolfgang winced and looked down at the floor. He wasn’t angry or defensive anymore. He just felt like a fool.

Edric drained his glass and slammed it down on the counter. “Let me be clear. If any of you ever leave your post, or violate this or any future mission in any way, you’re done. No excuses, no conversations. You’ll never work for SPIRE again.” Without another word, he stomped across the room and disappeared into a bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

7

The hours dragged by as the sun rose over Paris, then descended toward the ocean. Edric remained in his bedroom, leaving the four others to occupy themselves however they chose. Kevin drank until Megan cut him off, then he sat at the table next to Lyle and made a show of cleaning his firearms. He’d brought quite a few, and Wolfgang was impressed to see that they were already spotless.

Lyle remained behind the computer, still fussing with the satellite. It clearly bothered him that his technical issues had threatened the mission’s success. He didn’t speak to anyone, but toiled at the computer for hours on end without moving.

Wolfgang rubbed his sore stomach and watched Megan. From his angle in the corner, he could see the bright flash of her eyes as she pored over maps of Paris and scratched notes on a pad. The sun that leaked between the blinds shone against her scarlet hair, turning golden on translucent skin. All the distance and weariness he’d noticed when they first met was gone. She worked with an intensity and a focus that would rival a professional scientist, ignoring the world around her as completely as Lyle.

He looked down at his battered hands. The Russian in the apartment had left Wolfgang’s Berretta, and Wolfgang recovered it before returning to the hotel. It now rode in the shoulder holster again, but when he had crashed to the floor, his knuckles, propelled by the heavy gun, slammed into the hardwood.

I failed the team. I failed Edric. I failed Megan.

Wolfgang shoved his hands into his pockets and stood up, shuffling toward Megan. He could feel Kevin’s stormy glower on him the entire way.

Wolfgang cleared his throat. “Hey, Megan?”

“What?” she said.

“I just . . .