The platforms are packed. People everywhere, but I can’t see the boy in the red cap. I hurry as inconspicuously as I can, weaving in and out of the throng, looking for him.
In my ear, Nova says, “Holly, do you see him?”
I don’t answer. I just keep walking, keep looking. Thinking that maybe he’s hiding somewhere. Thinking that maybe he’s passed the briefcase off to somebody else.
Then I spot him.
Standing thirty yards away, right on the edge of the platform for the M6 train. Holding the briefcase in his hand like it belongs to him. Just standing there, waiting along with everyone else. He’s tapping his shoe, bouncing his head, and it’s not until I get closer do I see he’s wearing earbuds.
“I’ve got him,” I say just as somewhere down the tunnel comes the sound of the approaching train.
Philippe: “Do not lose him.”
No shit, I think.
I turn toward the platform, waiting for the train. Keeping a visual on the boy from the corner of my eye.
The train arrives. The doors open and people pile out, then the crowd on the platform piles in. I pause to make sure the boy heads into this train—he’s two cars down—and he does. I consider heading in that direction, maybe slipping into his car in case there’s someone waiting there for him. But then there’s a ding, and an electronic voice speaks in French, and I hurry into the nearest car.
The doors shut. The train starts to move.
A crackle sounds in my ear, probably Philippe, but because of the thick concrete all I hear is static.
The train makes a stop at Nationale. I get off along with everyone else, keeping an eye out in case the boy appears. He doesn’t, so I slip into the next car.
As the doors close and the train starts moving again, Nova speaks.
“You still have him?”
The car is full of people. I don’t want to look like a complete wacko, so I turn away and say yes into my shoulder, hoping it’s enough for Nova to hear.
“Holly, do you still have him?”
I decide to ignore Nova and wait for the train to stop again. This time it’s at Chevaleret.
I get out along with a few other people, keeping an eye on the boy’s car. He doesn’t appear. A sinking feeling hits me and I start to take a step toward the car when someone grabs my shoulder. I turn back around, already reaching for my weapon, but stop when I see it’s Nova.
“Where’s the boy?” he says.
I turn away from him and hurry to the next car. I make it in time before the doors close. Nova doesn’t. He smacks the glass as the train pulls away. I turn around and take a deep breath, like I just ran to catch the train in time. Nobody looks at me. Not even the boy, sitting over in the corner of the car, the briefcase between his legs. He’s still bouncing his head to the music, completely oblivious. He doesn’t even seem to know anybody’s around him until the train slows again and then he stands up and starts toward the door.
He leaves the briefcase.
This stop is the Quai de la Gare. Almost everyone gets off, including the boy. He just walks right past me, bouncing his head, lost in the music. I consider grabbing him but then realize it’s just me and that the main objective here is the briefcase.
I let him go untouched, then turn around. Stare at the briefcase. Maybe the kid left it for someone else. Maybe someone will pick it up at the next stop. But that doesn’t make sense because right now it’s open game and anybody can take it.
Shit, I think, I’m anybody, so I weave my way through the people toward the briefcase. I sit down. I look around, see nobody watching me. I lean forward, pick up the briefcase.
Thinking good, finally, the code is secure.
Then thinking, shit, what if it’s a bomb?
What I should do is wait for the next stop, get off the train, go to the surface, and try to hail the team.
What I should do is leave the briefcase alone until everyone else is there.
I consider it, I really do, but then I set the briefcase down on my lap. I undo the clasps. Then, as the train streaks through the tunnel toward yet another station, I open the case to see what’s inside.
Thirty-Six
A flash drive.
That is what’s inside the briefcase, protected by foam padding. Just like the one Roland Delano had hanging around his neck, only this one is silver.
Philippe asks, “Shall we see what secrets this holds?”
We’re all standing in the main living area, everyone except Boris who is still on the rooftop watching the mansion. Apparently after leaving Place d’Italie, Alayna Gramont returned home with her guards. She hasn’t left since.
Philippe takes the flash drive from the briefcase and carries it into the bedroom with the tables and computers. He sits down at one of the computers. He takes off the flash drive’s cap, reaches behind the computer. It takes him a couple seconds, but then he has the flash drive inserted.
And like that, the screen starts to flicker.
Nova steps forward. “What the hell?”
The flickering gets worse.
“Pull it out,” I say.
The flickering is a hodgepodge of a million scattered pixels swirling about.
“Pull it out!”
Philippe reaches behind the computer, jerks the flash drive out. But it’s already too late. Whatever virus installed on the flash drive has already stormed its way into the computer, conquering data boards and chips and whatever else, corrupting everything. And on the screen the flickering scattered pixels begin pausing in place, dots filling black, until an image starts to form.
Seconds later the image is complete.
A security camera shot taken from the Bellagio, showing me in my schoolgirl outfit. The image
