I haven't read any of Steve Barry's previous novels, nor do I plan to read any of his other books. As cute as it might be that he goes visiting Paris with the wife to research for his story, it falls short of any thriller I've read in the past.
In terms of the plot, I would categorise Mr. Barry with Ken Follett and James Patterson as writers of fun and fast-paced, but highly unlikely and not very credible plots and stories in which the protagonist has little depth. But I do occasionally accept such shortcomings.
I never figured why Robert Langdon had to drive past the Eiffel Tower to get from the Paris Ritz to the Louvre in Dan Brown's "The Da Vinci Code", but the Paris Vendetta is littered with this type of nonsense: There is no "highway" going north out of Copenhagen (page 34, there is a coastway, though, but nothing that allows speeding), the Latin Quarter isn't officially known as the fifth arrondissement (page 107, there are multiple quartiers to any one Parisian arrondissement), place de la République isn't in the Marais (page 193, the square is about a mile further North), Christmas Eve is not a work holiday in France (page 213, but Christmas day is), there are no churches across from the Saint-Lazare train station (page 410, I'll allow for some literary freedom but why not pick two of the "literally hundreds of churches in Paris" we're told about on page 398?).
I'm surprised about the obsession with calling women "Madame" if they are French when conversation is in English. But calling a Dane "Herre Thorvaldsen" is simply incorrect (first, Danes are informal and on first-name basis, second, "Herre" is comparable to "milord" making it both arcane and grammatically wrong). If it had only occurred once or twice, then so be it, but all the way through the book it simply becomes a bore. And how exactly DO you say "single-malt whiskey" in French? (page 190)?
Oh, and then this quote: "Unfortunately for him Nazis didn't bargain, or at least never in good faith." (page 71) What kind of a statement is that?
Finally, how credible is it that an individual climb from a helicopter onto the roof of a flying air-plane (page 324)? After that, I guess it's only a small feat to actually open the door, climb onto it and take over the controls.
I don't want to be a spoil-sport but all of this just leads me to put the book down, be happy that I'm through with it and look for my entertainment elsewhere.