72 Hours
August 9, 21:11
A good spy had many tools at his disposal. One of them was the instinctual knowledge of when to run. Parker McCall was running for his life, toward the Tuileries on Rue de Rivoli that stretched parallel to the River Seine.
When he'd been on jungle missions, running for the river was a good idea most of the time, and often the only way out. But right now he was on a street dense with tourists. Jumping into the Seine would do nothing but draw attention to himself and bring the authorities.
He hated Paris. It was the city that had taken Kate away from him.
"Excusez-moi." He slipped between two businessmen deep in discussion, blocking the sidewalk.
The chase scenes they showed in action movies, where seasoned professionals madly scrambled from their pursuers, knocking over vendor stands and causing all kinds of commotion, were nonsense. When you were hunted, you went to ground. You went quietly, did everything you could to blend in and become invisible, part of the usual tapestry of local life. You ran in such a way that nobody looking at you could tell you were running.
He glanced at his watch again, deepened the annoyed scowl on his face and smoothed do ... read full excerpt from: 72 Hours ebook
