René was enjoying himself. He loved the feeling when he’d beaten an enemy, when he’d won it all. It was as he’d always believed. The Americans were easily duped, a fine term Claude had taught him. Kingman was willing to do anything to save a woman, the fool. He said, “Claude, send her to her lover. It warms the heart, does it not, that they want to be together?”

Claude pushed Olivia toward Mike. Mike shoved her behind him. René laughed. “You play hero to the end, eh?” And he raised his Sig, a look of anticipation on his face.

Savich stepped from behind the beaded bedroom curtain. “René, Claude, drop your weapons. Do it immediately or my agents at the windows will fire.”

René froze, but only for an instant. He kept his Sig pointed at Mike’s chest. “You cannot shoot me. I will kill him if you try. Where were you hiding? I looked.”

“The wall beside the bed, behind the boards.”

“Who are you?”

“You don’t know? I thought you saw me in my red Porsche. Not a good lie, was it? Ollie, unless he lowers his weapon, shoot him in the arm.”

“Batard!” René whirled about to fire, not at Mike but at Savich.

A shot rang out and René’s Sig fell from his fingers. He gasped, grabbed his arm, felt blood ooze out between his fingers. He stared blankly toward the window, no longer covered with cardboard, at the face of a man with a rifle pointed at him.

Savich said, “Claude, gently place your Beretta on the floor or the next bullet will be for you. If Ruth’s aim is good, she might hit your shoulder, or maybe it will be your neck. It’s not that important to me.”

Claude slowly bent down and laid his Beretta on the floor.

Savich said, “Olivia, pick up the guns.”

As she bent down to pick up his Beretta, Claude lashed out his leg.

Olivia jerked away, but his foot clipped her thigh. She felt nothing but joy as she whirled about and sent her foot into his groin and smashed her fist into his throat. Claude fell to his knees, gagging, trying to suck in air. Then he moaned, fell on his side, and hugged himself. Olivia stood over him. “Thank you for that, Claude. Don’t worry, you’ll be breathing again, in a minute or so.” She turned to Savich, said with a huge grin, “Do you know Claude is from Indiana?” She kicked him with her toe. “And would you look what he chose to do with his life.”

Mike said, “That’s my girl. Excellent timing, Savich. I guess we’ll need an ambulance for the French idiot. They actually believed they could walk in, take the flash drive, and kill us.”