“I’m staying at the Hôtel Fouquet’s Barrière, fourth floor. I came out of my room and saw armed men. I managed to get away, but I think something is happening.”

“Un moment s’il vous plaît.”

That he understood. A few seconds later a new voice came on the phone. “You have an emergency?”

Franny repeated the lie.

“Your name, sir?”

“Oh, shit!” Franny whispered.

He then drew his pistol and fired a shot into the toilet bowl. He dropped the burner phone he’d purchased, stepped on it and tossed the broken pieces into the toilet, and flushed it away.

The gunshot had been deafening with all the marble so he quickly ducked out, knowing someone would come to investigate. He hurried to the front door of the hotel and was satisfied when he heard the ululating cry of approaching sirens.

The few individuals in the lobby were looking confused. The desk clerk was alarmed as police cars pulled up outside. Franny ducked into the stairwell and ran up the stairs. As he reached the fourth floor landing he heard booted feet pounding up behind him. He pushed into the hallway.

An unmistakable thug stood outside a door. Even better, he had drawn his gun. When Franny suddenly emerged he fired, but Franny had been expecting that, and threw himself to the side. The bullet clipped his side, but the vest he wore beneath his shirt sucked the force.

That meant he was cowering on the floor when the cops burst out of the stairwell and came boiling off the elevator. They saw a man with a gun and reacted as Franny expected. One guard down. Another popped out of the hotel room. He was smart and threw down his weapon. While he was being arrested Baba Yaga emerged from the room.

She was spitting mad, but fortunately not actually spitting. She was shouting at the police in French. They were starting to look confused. The first goon was bleeding on the floor. More sirens as an ambulance arrived. Guests were emerging from their rooms. The scene was becoming chaotic. Franny loaded the syringe and joined the crowd. He edged in until he was next to Baba Yaga. She suddenly noticed him. Understanding flared in those cold eyes. Her mouth began working. Franny jammed the needle into her thigh and depressed the plunger, then leapt back.

She screamed and began to convulse. People drew back as she fell to the floor. Her back was contorting, trying to twist her into a circle. Med techs raced out of an elevator carrying a stretcher. There was massive confusion as everyone talked at once in five different languages and the EMTs dithered between the bleeding goon and the convulsing old woman. The old woman won out.