The flooded subterranean catacombs beneath the Palais Garnier swarmed with flashing tactical lights, the shouting of French counter-terrorism officers, and the metallic clatter of automatic rifles. Henri Dupont lay in the shallow, murky water, his face mangled, his jaw fractured, and his right arm hanging limp at an unnatural angle. Two GIGN officers hauled him upright by the collar of his ruined coat, pinning his good arm behind his back…
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