Dufor must have found out that Prime Minister Alden was connected to the crime rings of Paris. That was what was on the drive—evidence that would take down Alden, and the crime rings with him. “This cannot go on”, Dufor had written. He’d risked, and ultimately lost, his life to stop the Prime Minister from sponsoring crime.
I stared up at the Prime Minister’s face as he waved to the crowds and exited the stage, Cardwell following close behind. I truly wanted to rip his eyes out.
A church bell tolled, a stark reminder of the ticking clock on my friends’ lives. My friends were in the middle of this mess because of me, and now that I knew it involved high levels in the government, fear nested in my chest. I needed to get them out, as fast as possible. As soon as they were free, I’d deal with the Prime Minister. I felt a slight tremor go through me, and my hair stood on edge like I was being watched. Had Cardwell or the Prime Minister seen me as I stood frozen, figuring out what was most likely going on? That had been a completely stupid idea. I scanned the crowd but saw no one, and the feeling subsided after I took a couple deep breaths. I made my way down the packed sidewalks to my destination.
I leaned on the stoop of a nearby house and watched the building that was my team’s last known location, looking for security, alternate entrances, and anyone who seemed to be watching the place. I made out five cameras on the front of the building, and the green sheen on the glass told me it was bulletproof. A man sat on the porch swing, but the bulge at his hip betrayed his weapon. He got up and went inside. I bet more guards were waiting inside. With security so tight, I could see no easy way in from the ground floor. I slipped into the alley on the other side of the neighboring house and hunched down like I was just finding a place to bed down for the night. After two minutes, a good pathway up the exterior of the building presented itself.
I carefully shed the blanket and started up the brick wall of the neighboring building, using window ledges and anything sticking out to help me move more quickly. It was nice to have so much distraction on the main street. Hopefully, no one would bother to look down a semi-dark alley. My fingers burned, but I knew this was the only way to gain entrance to the house. The ground level was too fortified with security and henchmen for me to consider trying to break through without some support.
By climbing the sidewall of the neighboring house, I’d have access to the roof of the target building without having to get past anyone. The guards and the cameras paid it no attention. Major security flaw, in my opinion.
Once on top, I stuck to the edges of the building where there was the most support and hopefully most absorption of my careful footfalls. I made it to the back edge of the building, away from the street, and leapt. I landed on the very edge of the target building, hoping to have the sound of my impact absorbed into the walls and across the roof instead of having a loud thud hit the building. After the initial hit, with ballerina feet, I took two more steps to the side to further disrupt any noise that had come with the jump.
I then scanned my surroundings and let myself down the back side of the building and climbed into the first window that someone had neglected to shut completely. I’d dreaded having to get in the window and disable any alarms attached to it. If the window was slightly ajar, then the alarm was already out of the equation. I was only two stories from the roof and obviously in someone’s apartment. This wasn’t a business building after all. I stood in a bedroom that most likely belonged to a teenager. No wonder the window was ajar.
Posters of rock bands and their lead singers along with bare chested movie stars hung on the walls. With that clue and the bright pink and yellow colors, I assumed it was a girl’s room. A lucky break. I crossed quickly to her wardrobe and rifled through the girl’s clothing, pulling out some black leggings and a black turtleneck. I shed my bum costume—it had too many pieces dangling from it that could get caught as I tried to move stealthily through the house. I slipped into the girl’s clothes and stuffed my discarded costume under her bed. I guessed it wasn’t my last disguise after all. The turtleneck was a bit snug, and a slice of my stomach showed no matter how hard I tugged down on it. This was Paris, though, and I needed no luck to find a scarf that I could wrap around my waist. It was burgundy with gold stripes through it and with a couple of creative knots, it didn’t look half bad used as a belt. I flung the go bag over my shoulder and moved to the door.
I surveyed the hallway as I opened the door. Empty of people and no cameras. Maybe the cameras were only on the exterior of the building. I needed to get to the basement. In my experience most people kept their darkest secrets in basements. It probably had everything to do with keeping noises from the streets, but I liked to think that dark things belonged in dark basements. I guessed which direction would lead me down and lucked out finding a staircase. I was about to descend after discovering that the only cameras in the
