His Majesty Special Forces
by Nikolai Schevchenko
One evening, when Paris felt sweltering summer twilight, a man in a light blue cloak came out of the three-story house on St. Thomas street. He was going to the Louvre, which was only fifteen minutes walk. But a man was in a hurry for a very important meeting, so to cut the corner, he turned from a street, more or less lit by oil lamps, to a narrow winding lane