Kamal came out with a different bag not ten minutes later. Things they wouldn’t take? Payment? Or did he have a hiding place inside the building where he kept things? I’d have to find a way in. I wanted to get help from Rosabella, but that was too risky. What would Siron do if she found out I was still working on this mission? Probably toss me in a Division holding cell. There was no way I could let that happen.
Kamal went to his apartment. I stepped into the foyer and waited to hear his door click shut. Once it did, I crept up to the second floor, making sure no one was coming or going and listened. It sounded like he was typing on a computer. Was he checking new drives? Keeping track of what he had been given? Divvying up money? I just couldn’t tell. I needed to get some listening devices in there as soon as possible. Maybe tonight. I could probably find something I could rig up from civilian devices. Mentally, I thumbed through my training manuals from the Bresen Spy Academy, reviewing techniques for making and planting improvised bugs. Next thing I knew, there was silence, and I figured he was probably painting.
I slipped away and headed to the electronics store where I’d bought the drives. I gathered the necessary items I’d need for the bugs and headed back home to assemble them. None of them would be as good as what Division had, and as Eva I wouldn’t even really have a chance to listen to whatever the bugs picked up. I seethed inwardly—it should not be happening this way. I should have my team around me. I should have the resources I needed. Instead I was on my own and stretched thin.
I’d put listening devices in his apartment in the morning and find a way to get the tracker in his phone. Maybe Halluis and Ace would have moments where they could listen in and track Kamal.
Chapter 9
I set watch on Kamal’s place at six am after a five-mile run. I sat on a bench across the street in front of another ratty apartment that had a full view of the entrance with a handful of magazines to pretend to read. No one would leave or arrive without me seeing. I felt invigorated and more alive than I had since arriving in Paris. In the early mornings, the city seemed to exude its historical charm because no one seemed to be stirring. No businesses were open and everyone was still in bed. I could almost see the Paris of my dreams with the Eiffel Tower, the Catacombs, the amazing gardens, and the Louvre standing in all their historical glory in the beautiful, awe inspiring city. But once the city and its people awoke each day, reality hit me in the face, reminding me that my dreams were a long lost fantasy.
I watched as Kamal left his apartment shortly after eight. He thought that was early? Perhaps it was if he’d stayed up all night painting. I waited five minutes to make sure he wouldn’t return because he’d forgotten something, then I picked the lock and went inside. I didn’t need much time. I’d be in and out in minutes. The inside of the apartment looked exactly the same as when I left it last time. Kamal was clean and organized—a man of habit.
I made quick work of setting my three improvised devices and was about to leave when I had the urge to look in the silverware drawer again. I just wanted to see what he’d added or taken from it. I hit the jackpot. A ledger. I lifted it out of the drawer and set it on the counter. A piece of paper fluttered to the ground. I picked it up. It was a drawing of a girl, a beautiful girl with mocha skin and deep, dark eyes lined with long, inviting lashes. I couldn’t help but smile back at her before setting the picture to the side and checking out the ledger.
I examined it, capturing the numbers on the pages in my mind. There were three separate accountings. Perhaps one was for the drives?
The last accounting was counting down from 300,000 euro. Maybe that was what his goal was to earn while picking. It was a lot of money, but he was already two-thirds of the way there—he only needed another 100,000 euro. Judging by the dates in the ledger, it had only taken him two years to earn that much. No wonder he lived in this terrible, rundown place. He obviously had a plan and was saving the money for something specific.
I moved toward the door, admiring one painting of a girl laughing, but stopped in my tracks when I heard a voice. And not just any voice. It was Kamal’s voice. He was coming back. I’d lingered too long.
His voice boomed through the door. “Yeah. I think I have about ten of those right now. I’ll go and check. Yeah, uh huh.” Was he on his phone? His key jiggled in the lock.
I scanned the room for a likely hiding place. I was a dead duck. The only place to hide would be behind the door when he opened it. He did have a bathroom, but it was across the room, and I’d never make it there before the three seconds I had to hide expired. So, I stepped to the side of the door and stood, hoping the little alcove for coats would conceal me. I didn’t even have time to put the coats over me before he entered the room, leaving the door ajar with me halfway behind it.
The seconds ticked by like hours. I didn’t dare move—it would call attention to me. I tried to blink
