a place where you can talk?”

“Yes, Halluis, I’m working on that right now.”

Ah, so there were others who could hear him. I’d have to be quick and hope Ace wouldn’t accidentally give us away. He could be really good under pressure, but he sometimes underestimated himself and got nervous.

I gave him a concise rundown of what I’d discovered then started to tell him what I needed. “I need help finding out where Kamal keeps the drives before selling them. I know he has an appointment in the morning, so his apartment will be empty.”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

I balked for a second at his tone, then remembered he was supposedly talking to Halluis. “I need a lookout shadow. And in case the drive isn’t in his apartment, can you get me a few drives with GPS trackers on them? That way I can give them to Kamal, and we can follow the signal to where he keeps them.”

“I’m afraid you’re on your own with that, Halluis,” Ace said. “I can get you the tech, of course, but with you being so far away, I can’t support it.”

I cringed, trying to parse the meaning behind his words. From the sound of things, Halluis was gone somewhere—what did Siron have him doing? That meant he couldn’t be my shadow. But Ace had said he could get the tech.

“No on the shadow, yes on the drives?” I clarified.

“That’s right.” He paused a second. “Just, be careful out there… man.”

“Thanks, Ace. I’ll be all right. Just get me the drives.”

Chapter 8

In the morning, I found three flash drives had been pushed through my mail slot, along with an envelope along with a bag of chocolate gummy bears. The coded note explained that two of the drives had the same tracking system on them, and the third had a different system. I was to give one of each type to Kamal, then try to plant the other one on another pickpocket, someone who might be likely to lead us to the drive buyer. The plan seemed solid, but something about it made me nervous. At the end was a postscript that read, Siron’s got Halluis in Calais, tailing one of Dufor’s business partners. It’s a dead end. We hope he’ll be back soon. I found some stuff on Dufor, don’t know if it will be useful.

I slipped the drives into my pocket, happy to have some of Ace’s handiwork, along with the two I’d bought the night before to use as decoys. I took some time to rough up a couple of them, make them look used rather than brand new. All five were different—I didn’t want anything about them to expose that they’d come from the same person: me.

I pulled out the information on Dufor that Ace had included and glanced quickly over the page. 54 years old, divorced, no kids, a sister in Coulogne, but no other living relatives. Mostly kept to himself, but he liked art and books. He was a numbers guy, an accountant, and before working at Sécurité Un, he’d worked for a small financial firm in Paris.

That’s it? I thought. It was no help at all. There was nothing there that offered any clue to explain Dufor’s doodles. Still, Coulogne wasn’t far from Calais, and since Halluis was already up that way anyway… I texted Ace on the secure line.

Can you have Halluis look into the sister? She might give us some insight.

If you say so.

I sighed. It would probably be a dead end. All the more reason to focus on Kamal.

I got to his apartment a few minutes after eight a.m. and confirmed that he had left and no one else lived there. I had no idea how long he would be gone or where he was going, so I needed to work fast.

I climbed the narrow stairs and found myself on a small landing. While the outside had been bright and colorful, the hallways were a drab gray. Each level only had two apartments. I picked the lock and walked in with only a bit of hesitation. The first thing I ran into was the kitchen. From there, the apartment opened up into a very small studio. The smell of acetone and paint hit me. I looked around the room in shock.

He was an artist. A painter. “Hmm,” I said, frowning. Five easels with canvases on them dominated the room. In the far corner was a small cot-like bed, and on the wall with the window hung the TV. A small chest of drawers butted up against the bed, and that was it. Everything was in order, nothing out of place, almost like he’d been in the army or something. I turned around and looked back at the strip of a kitchen and headed in there. I opened all the oak cupboards.

When I opened the silverware drawer, it felt unusually heavy. I examined one of the forks, and it wasn’t particularly sturdy and didn’t weigh much. I pulled the drawer out the rest of the way and examined it more closely. It definitely had a false bottom. I found the catch and opened it. Inside was a lot of money, jewelry, a laptop, and various other expensive items—more than a young guy living on his own should have, and I was reminded that he was a pickpocket. I whipped out the laptop and booted it up, praying it didn’t have a password. It did. Who was I kidding? This boy was a professional thief. Of course he’d protect against other thieves.

This was it. I needed Ace. I pulled out my phone and dialed the secure number I’d found with the drive this morning.

“This is Ace.” His voice was clipped, tense.

I got straight to the point. “I found a laptop. It’s got a password, and I need in.”

“Tell me everything you see in the room.” His voice was so low, I had to concentrate to hear him. He was alone

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