AL05 - Murder in Clichy

And figure out why the Circle Line was looking for the jade.

She heard a knock on the door. “Who’s there?”

“Didn’t you say you needed a hacker?” someone asked.

She opened the door.

Saj stood there in flowing Indian pants and wool Nepalese sweater.

“Perfect timing,” she said. “Got a challenge for you two.”

He rubbed his hands together, taking in the three computers. “My pleasure.”

She typed in the digits she’d written on her palm.

“There’s four of the twelve numbers Lars entered,” she said. “I need the complete password. Want to try a brute force attack?”

Rene shook his head. “A brute force attack with every possible combination of letters, numbers, and symbols to try and duplicate a password? That could take two days. Aren’t we in a hurry?”

“What about a dictionnaire attack?” asked Saj. “Try common words found in a dictionnaire starting with pets’ names or others commonly used in passwords.”

“Most ministries use heavily encrypted passwords,” Aimee said. “Like we do. Changing them constantly.”

But in this socialist system, with the endemic work overloads, she knew little time was spent on such safety procedures.

“Lars’s system, I figure, like all the ministries, uses a stored ‘hash’ of the password in a file,” she said.

“Right,” said Rene. “One-way encryption uses a common algorithm which manipulates the password.”

“But breaking a twelve-digit or letter password could take a whole day,” Saj said, sitting down. “If we use two computers, it will take less time, of course.

“Bon, you’ve got this under control. I’ve got to follow someone,” Aimee said, pulling on her coat.

“Not one of those mecs.”

“An old Chinese grand-mere,” Aimee said. “A Cao Dai member. We should have a lot in common.”

THE OLD grand-mere dropped Michel off at the nearby ecole maternelle and Aimee followed her. The Asian woman, her padded silk jacket flapping in the wind, walked with a quick step across busy Place de Clichy. She paused at the Vietnamese restaurant, fronted by a flashy aquarium proclaiming CATCH OF THE DAY. Gunmetal gray storm clouds bracketed the last slice of blue sky.

Now was her chance.

“Quelle surprise, Madame!” Aimee smiled. “Why, I’m just going in for lunch. May I invite you to join me?”

The woman backed away in surprise, fear in her eyes.

“Eat at home,” she said.

But a group of black-suited Asian businessman, their voices raised in singsong Vietnamese, blocked her way. The skies opened, pelting down hail, slivers of ice, which bounced on the cracked pavement.

“Quick, you’ll get wet. Please, be my guest,” Aimee said, steering her inside. Flustered, the woman was herded forward by the smiling maitre d’hotel. With a flourish, he showed them to a table in the well-lit restaurant and proferred menus. Once this had been an old style workers’ bouillon canteen, Aimee thought, noticing balconies several floors high, all filled with tables.

A fragrant pot of jasmine tea appeared on the table with two celadon green cups.

“Please,” Aimee said, reaching for the cup and pouring the tea.

“Merci,” the old woman replied, her manners taking over. “But I must go.”

Out of the corner of Aimee’s eye, she saw people huddled in the doorways in Place de Clichy, shielding themselves from the hail with their umbrellas.

“Of course. Drink some tea and go when the hail stops. Right now, it’s too dangerous; you might slip on the pavement.”

Cornered, the woman nodded. Despite her slight build, Aimee imagined a rod of steel in her backbone. She was strong, like the bamboo which swayed in the wind but clung with tenaciousness rooted in rock.

“My name’s Aimee Leduc, I know Monsieur de Lussigny through business,” she said, desperate to establish familiarity. “He told me his father died last month. So sorry to hear that. And now, his brother-in-law is gone, too!”

The woman clasped her cup and took a single sip. Perhaps this was a good sign. From around them came the orders shouted by the waiters.

“And so sad for you, I’m sure,” she said. “Madame . . . ?”

“Madame Nguyen. I live in France long time,” she said. “Know Metro very good. I take Metro home.”

Try anything, Aimee told herself, to get this woman to stay and talk.

“Madame Ngyuen. You look too young to have a grandson! He’s just a boy you take care of, isn’t he?”

A smile escaped the woman. She displayed a full set of white-capped teeth. “My great-grandson. Michel, good boy.”

“I can’t believe that,” Aimee said, hoping she wasn’t laying it on too thick. “Impossible!”

“Possible. My granddaughter his mother,” Madame Ngyuen said, nodding.

“You help her,” Aimee said. “She’s lucky!”

“I raise her, too.” There was an enigmatic expression on her face.

“But how? Non, you have so much energy, like a young woman.”

She nodded. “More energy in my country.”

“So your granddaughter works . . . ?”

“Nadege. She stays somewhere else.”

Nadege. The other name Thadee had uttered.

“How can I find her?”

“Don’t know. I take care of Michel now.”

“Of course, but—”

“Gone,” she shook her head. “In Indochina I run big house with servants, all day, and raise five children, too. Dead, all dead now.”

“I’m so sorry,” Aimee said. “Did that happen here, or in Indochina?”

“Indochina, long time ago,” she said.

“I’m practicing meditation at the Cao Dai Temple,” Aimee said. “Trying to. The nun Linh helps me. But I’m sure you know her, non?”

Madame Nguyen’s eyes narrowed. “Eh, what you mean?”

“I mean Linh’s so helpful. Do you know the nun I’m referring to?”

“No temple. Pray at home.”

Disappointed, Aimee tried another tack. She remembered the few Vietnamese words she’d learned. “Ma,” she said. She hoped it was close to the Vietnamese word for mother.

“Inflection wrong,” Madame Nguyen said, shaking her head. “Listen, ‘ma’ can mean ghost, ma mother, ma because, rice seedling, tomb or horse.”

“What’s the word for dragon?”

Madame Ngyuen looked away. “You nice French lady. Not like most gweilo.”

“Gweilo?”

“ ‘White devil,’ but meant in nice way,” she said.

“Isn’t that Cantonese?”

Madame Nguyen nodded. Her black hair shone. She wore no ornament this time, just a tight bun, with small jade dots in her long lobes.