“Now, listen, Metro Spy Barbie,” Halluis started in again, his French coming across in a sardonic drawl. “Remember to approach slowly. Don’t spook the informant. This man is incredibly paranoid—”
“Well, wouldn’t you be if you worked for the most dangerous company in Europe, and you were about to spill their secrets?” Ace laughed, but I could hear the tension in his voice. He was nervous. Were his nerves for me, or our informant?
“Here comes the train, Christy,” Halluis spoke in my ear. There was no trace of his former playfulness; he had his game face on. Despite all the mockery, I knew I could count on him for anything. “If Dufor is where he is meant to be, he should be on the fourth car.”
My heart sped up as the train approached. Henri Dufor, our informant, was taking on a huge risk. As Ace had said, he worked for the most dangerous company in Europe, Sécurité Un. To the average civilian, Sécurité Un appeared to be just an Internet privacy firm, benignly protecting passwords and other mundane aspects of online life. But Division 57 had discovered that their real service was protecting secrets, especially dangerous ones. They were hired by the world’s most nefarious groups to keep things hidden. And they had never once had a breach of security. If anyone knew what Dufor was about to do, his life would be forfeit.
That’s why he’d been extraordinarily cautious about setting up this drop. He had contacted us just yesterday to say he had something important for us. He couldn’t explain it over the phone—he was too afraid someone might be listening in—but it involved some incriminating evidence against a high public official. Not your run-of-the-mill affair or campaign bribes, he’d assured us—but something that needed our immediate attention. Something that involved the safety and security of all of France. He’d agreed to copy the encoded information to a flash drive and deliver it to an agent. But he insisted he couldn’t do anything out of his ordinary routine, or his superiors would suspect him. Rosabella had made the arrangements for the drop to go down along his normal route home after work the next day.
Today.
I knew Rosabella wished she could be the one to make the drop—but she was no longer a field agent. She didn’t like to talk about why, but I gathered that something traumatic had happened, and she had never recovered. She was a good agent, though, so she stayed on in HQ, running the operations.
I was good with disguises and excellent at sleight of hand, so I’d been chosen to complete the mission. I silently promised I would execute the job perfectly, not just for the fate of the world, as Halluis had put it, but for Rosabella.
For today’s mission I would be Gabrielle, a young intern working for a fashion designer. With my billowing silk blouse, a sweet pink double breasted trench coat with flap pockets, and expertly tied scarf, I blended in perfectly with the Parisian business people in the train station. Yet, the tools of my true trade were close at hand. A knife fit nicely into my soft leather, three-inch heeled boots, and my light and airy, just-above-the-knee skirt easily hid the little .380 pistol strapped to my upper thigh. I hated wearing the long, brown wig, but it was all part of the game.
The job was simple—identify Dufor, retrieve the drive, then stick with him until he left the train. Two other field agents would tail him after that, ensuring his safety, but while he was on the train, he was my responsibility.
As the train pulled into the station, I counted the cars. I located the fourth one and subtly put myself in position to board there when the doors opened. I drummed my fingers on my leather satchel, hiding my own anxiety in my alias—a tired French intern, eager to board the train and get home. Finally the train stopped and the doors hissed open. I stepped lightly onboard, my heels making a sharp clack on the floor. I found a seat in the center of the car, a good position to assess the area for threats and locate my informant.
“Good girl, Christy. You’re right on top of him,” Rosabella whispered. I could hear the tightness in her voice. We were so close.
Keeping my face impassive, I carefully scanned the crowded car for the asset. I panicked slightly as my eyes flitted from face to face, not seeing him through the crowds of people. I only had two stops to locate him and make the pick-up. Dufor was exceptionally distrustful—understandable considering his line of business—and he’d only agreed to make the drop on the train. He felt that as long as he was moving, there was less chance of him being caught. If he got off the train with the drive still in his possession, he’d made it clear that the drop was finished for good. It had to go well. There wouldn’t be a second try. I fought to keep my breathing calm as my search continued fruitless.
There. Finally. He was standing next to the car’s other door, holding onto what I’d affectionately named the pickpocket pole. Seriously, most people would lose at least one thing standing at that pole as people jostled about with the train’s arrivals and departures. Paris was a pickpocket’s paradise. Even the Louvre was full of signs warning people of the
