“How James Bond,” Lucy said. “The elevator is password protected?”

“With the latest voice-recognition software. No one gets into this loft but me-and my guests, of course.”

“So this is where you live?”

“Yeah. You have a problem with that?”

“No, but it seems a little odd, that’s all. I didn’t think spies normally brought witnesses in protective custody to their homes.”

“They don’t. This is a special occasion.”

“Why? Surely this case isn’t a particularly big or significant one. You must have dozens, hundreds of people attempting to funnel funds to terrorists.”

He debated how much to tell her. But he decided she could handle the truth. He wanted her to understand she could trust no one but him. “I have strong reason to believe I’ve been betrayed by my own people-which means there’s not a safe house in our system that’s truly safe. This is the one place I could think of where no one could possibly find you.”

“You mean, the people you work with-the other spies-don’t know where you live?”

“They don’t even know my name. To the others in my cell, and even to my boss, I’m Casanova.”

“Wow.”

The elevator doors opened, and Bryan led Lucy into his private living space. A couple of years ago, he’d bought the entire building where Une Nuit was located.

He’d renovated and expanded the dining area, used the second floor for offices and storage, and had the top two floors converted to living space.

He’d spared no expense-he hadn’t had to. Though he had some family money, and he was well paid as a top-echelon government agent, this was the home that Une Nuit had built. The restaurant, which he’d originally opened as a cover so that not even his closest friends and family would know of his true vocation, had become unexpectedly popular-and lucrative.