“Mmm,” Bouchard said. “My team would of course have the lead.”
Finn shrugged. “Of course,” he said. “It’s French territory.”
“But here we come to the, comment dit-on l’essentiel—” He glanced to his left, at one of his men who had a dark and battered face and a shaved head. The man’s mouth lifted slightly into the ghost of a smile, and he intoned in a heavy French accent, “The neety-greety.”
“Yes, exactly, nitty-gritty,” Bouchard said. “To be honest, these formidable fortifications must take their toll. And I do not like the idea of the high casualties,” he said. “You must understand, Île des Choux, it is a true casse-tête—the defenses, they are remarkably complete.”
“We think we can surprise them,” Finn said.
Bouchard spread his hands. “But no, but you must see— It is surrounded by an electronic perimeter that makes surprise impossible, eh? You cannot approach without alerting Boniface, activating missile batteries, artillery—even I do not know the full extent of what Monsieur Boniface can throw at us. But I do know it will be too much.”
Delgado couldn’t hold back any longer. “The perimeter defenses will be offline,” he said. “Turned off.”
Bouchard looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “And you know this how?”
Delgado glanced at Finn, who nodded, although a little reluctantly. “Bailey Stone knows about Boniface’s defenses,” he said. “He knows he can’t get past them. Unless he has a way to take them out.”
Bouchard’s mouth twitched. “My friend,” he said, “you use logic on a Frenchman?” He shook his head. “This is never a good idea. You have no more than that?”
Delgado shrugged. “There is also a confidential informant,” he admitted.
“Ah,” Bouchard said. “And this informant tells you what? The perimeter defense will go down, when, at a certain time?”
“We don’t have a specific time, merely a time frame,” Finn put in. “Our idea was that our combined force will wait nearby, at, uh—” He glanced down at a notebook that lay open before him. “At Port-aux-Français?”
Bouchard moved his shoulders in a fractional shrug. “Mostly a research station. But yes, this is at least possible,” he admitted.
“Right,” Finn said. “So the strike force trickles in, a few at a time, because I am pretty sure Boniface will notice a large force coming in all at once.”
Bouchard nodded. “Certainement,” he murmured.
“We get everybody there, and we wait,” Finn continued. “With four attack helicopters and our two teams. Boniface’s perimeter network has a distinctive electronic signature. We can monitor from there, and when we hear it go dark, we mount up. We can be there in about half an hour.”
Bouchard sighed and tapped his fingers on the table. “It is a great deal less certain than I would like,” he said.
“To get both Stone and Boniface? We think the risk is worth it,” Finn said.
“Perhaps you do not value the lives of your men as we do,” Bouchard said. Then he quickly raised a hand to cut off Finn’s response. “No, I should not have said this. Apologies. But you must acknowledge, this is not so certain a thing. The peril is very real.”
“It is,” Finn said.
“In any case, it is not my decision,” Bouchard said. “I must speak with my minister.”
“Of course,” Finn said.
“And I must also say, mes amis, that in the current political climate? There is very little enthusiasm for doing anything at all with our American friends, hm?”
“Some things rise above politics,” Finn said.
Bouchard gave a single snort of laughter. “Not in France,” he said.
36
He’s taking too long,” Bailey Stone said. He slurped from his glass of bourbon. “Haven’t heard from him in what, six, seven weeks? No more— It’s like three months? It’s too damn long.”
“Oh, now, come on,” Garrett Wallace said. “Gonna take some time.”
“You should’ve told him to check in, let us know what he’s doing,” Stone said. “Why didn’t you tell him that? Huh?”