Harlan Coben Quote

How long’s the ride? I asked. Berleand looked at his wristwatch. About thirty seconds. He may have overestimated. I had, in fact, seen the building before—the bold and stark sandstone fortress sitting across the river. The mansard roofs were gray slate, as were the cone-capped towers scattered through the sprawl. We could have easily walked. I squinted as we approached. You recognize it? Berleand said. No wonder it had grabbed my eye before. Two armed guards moved to the side as our squad car pulled through the imposing archway. The portal looked like a mouth swallowing us whole. On the other side was a large courtyard. We were surrounded now on all sides by the imposing edifice. Fortress, yeah, that did fit. You felt a bit like a prisoner of war in the eighteenth century. Well? I did recognize it, mostly from books by Georges Simenon and because, well, I just knew it because in law-enforcement circles it was legendary. I had entered the courtyard of 36 quai des Orfèvres—the renowned French police headquarters. Think Scotland Yard. Think Quantico. Soooo, I said, stretching the word out, gazing through the window, whatever this is, it’s big. Berleand turned both palms up. We don’t process traffic violations here. Count