Two of Kamal’s friends looked like they were close to twenty while the other two appeared to be in their early teens. It made me wonder how old Kamal was. I’d thought early twenties, but if he was hanging out with these kids and acting like he was their peer, then he must’ve been younger than I’d thought.
I recognized the two younger kids from l'Orangerie. They’d been making rounds in the oval room. I sat as close to the group as I could and listened in on their conversation as I pretended to be busy with my phone. Mostly, I watched Kamal. He appeared to be the leader, or at least the person most looked up to and wanted to be like. He’d try some crazy stunt, and the rest would follow. And while he would make sarcastic comments, I couldn’t help but see that most of his comments were positive and even kind.
It started to get dark, but it didn’t stop anyone from continuing to sit and talk, just veg out, or continue skating. Dim lights popped on and then, slowly but surely, the area began to clear. But the skaters remained. I walked over to Mad Dogs and got a hot Nutella and banana crepe, which I brought back over to the fountain to eat.
I wished I could order electronic trackers for all the kids so we could see where they were going and when. The more information I had to work with, the better. But even though I had Ace’s support, I knew that if he started using Division resources, it could tip Siron off to what we were doing. I was going to have to play this old-school. That meant going in myself, undercover. Maybe after I found something useful, I could bring it to Siron and she’d sanction this line of investigation. Maybe when Jeremy got here, he could help me—if he ever did. He still hadn’t responded to my text. I pushed back the worry I felt at the thought of Jeremy. Worrying wasn’t going to help him, and it certainly wasn’t going to help me.
From what I’d seen tonight, it was clear Kamal was the leader of this little group, so I was just going to have to focus on him. A plan started to form in my mind as I watched the skaters slowly trickle out of the square.
I would be Eva, an independent pickpocket who skated occasionally.
Chapter 6
The next morning, I dressed as Gabrielle, the fashion intern. I wore an airy couture skirt that stopped just above the knee with a light sweater and, of course, a scarf. My feet were slipped into short, soft, brown leather boots that cost more than many people made in a week. One thing I would miss about being in Paris was the fabulous clothes I got to wear. It had shocked me when I’d first arrived to discover that even though it was the fashion capital of the world, everyday Parisians didn’t bother with it—only those in the fashion industry, like my alias, Gabrielle.
I was planning to watch the pickpockets again today—I needed to know more about them before I tried to infiltrate the group. But if any of them spotted me tailing them as my Eva alias, the whole thing would be blown. I’d stick with Gabrielle for now. With the wig and sunglasses to obscure my face and the heels to modify my height, it’d be much less likely that anyone who saw me as Gabrielle would ever connect her with Eva. And I wouldn’t have to do a lot of makeup or dress up in order to be Eva.
Since most of the pickpockets I’d seen and heard were not French, but immigrants with thick foreign accents, I decided I should have one too. I practiced speaking French with a Portuguese accent. It was fun taking the language I’d learned in an intensive, immersive four month training program and molding it to what I needed.
Inside the Musée de l'Orangerie, I watched the pickpockets work. They definitely had a system, but I only saw four during the two hours I observed there. The other two from the fountain didn’t show up, and there were two new ones I hadn’t seen before. They had a rotation, I guessed.
Twenty-two percent of the people who entered the room sat on one of the benches at some point during their visit. Twenty percent took a trip to the restroom, and three of the guards were basically sleeping standing up for a good portion of their shift. There was only one escape route, and that involved going up a flight of stairs.
Perhaps Dufor had come here before going to our fatal exchange because he needed to find peace and calm before doing something super scary. Unfortunately, the façade of calm didn’t remain long.
I moved outside and positioned myself on a bench near the museum, presumably to create an amazing fashion design by pulling on the inspiration of my surroundings. Unfortunately, I was a terrible artist. It was good that I was really only reconnoitering and not actually drawing. I had a perfect view of the entrance and exit through the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up the exterior of the museum’s main floor. The sun played across my face and I could smell the baguette paninis sold on the street nearby.
The six pickpockets I’d seen during the day weren’t hard to spot as they came and went, but I did notice that a few had some sort of disguise on, varying their look in hopes of fooling the guards inside. I took pictures of them all, which was easy with my phone. I sent them to Ace, not sure if he could really do anything with them. But at least he would be collecting a nice file of intel, in case anything happened to me. I shook the thought out of my head and focused on observing the pickpockets.
After several hours of watching, I noticed something interesting. There was one guy—taller than the rest, probably the oldest of the kids at the museum that day—who seemed to be lifting things off the other pickers. That’s odd, I thought, as I watched him move by one of the younger boys and slide his hand into the kid’s bag. I focused my attention on the tall kid and watched him do the same thing three more times. Each time, just before the pick happened, the younger kid had gone to a particular fountain, then stopped in front of Monet’s water lily painting depicting early morning—they were signaling him, I realized.
He wasn’t taking all their stuff—just one thing each time. It was possible they were handing off the most valuable or most sensitive items to him. That was something to think about. If the kid who’d stolen my bag realized the drive could be important, would he have given it to this kid? This was another path I needed to follow. Maybe Kamal wasn’t the one I needed to focus on, after all. I definitely had to find out.
I tailed the tall kid for the rest of the day, and I saw him lift stuff off the other pickpockets a few more times. Once, I caught a glimpse of the item—it was an SD card, the kind used as backup memory in a camera. Not a drive exactly, but it did lend credibility to my theory that a drive might end up with him.
In the early afternoon, I watched him exit the building, walking casually down the stairs to the Tuileries Garden. I followed him down the many steps on the south side of l’Orangerie and onto the wide packed-gravel walkway of the gardens. This particular path led to the largest of the fountains, and he headed straight for it. I made sure to act like I was just on a nice walk in the park, looking for a bit of fresh air and relaxation, but in truth, I was watching for anything out of the ordinary and for anyone who could be watching me.
The tall pickpocket would speed up, then slow down and casually look over his shoulder now and then as he made his way. I walked around the small, perfectly manicured bushes and shrubs nearby, acting like I was just enjoying the beauty before me.
Before reaching the fountain, he took a left on a footpath and met someone at a café table in the gardens. The guy he met had his back to me. I switched seats so I could get a better look. I hadn’t seen him before. He had a very distinct scar running across his forehead and through his eyebrow. I would definitely remember him if I’d seen him. If the tall boy had ended up with my drive, it was likely he’d passed it to Scar, here. Maybe Kamal had nothing to do with the drive after all.
They drank what looked like sweet tea and talked like they were old friends. I bought a panini from a vendor nearby, sat on one of the green chairs, and watched them. Two almost identical bags sat on each side of the table, only one lay flat while the other bulged with stolen goods. They laughed and chatted for a good fifteen minutes before Scar stood, taking the full bag with him. He left some money on the table before waving goodbye and leavi
ng.
After the tall one left the cafe, I tailed Scar, following him to what I hoped would be the next drop. And he didn’t disappoint. With a quick swipe the bag, all the stolen goods were quickly in the hand of the next person.
I smiled.
It was Kamal. Could he be the boss? No way. He was too young. I’d stay with him to the next drop and hopefully find out who he reported to.
I followed him to the main road, and watched with dismay as he walked up to a motorcycle. There was no way I was going to be able to tail him if he got on that thing. Sure enough, he shoved a helmet on his head, threw his leg over the machine and sped off. A hot rock seemed to sear my gut as he pulled away, but it cooled in a rush as I realized that I had a good idea where I could find him later. I was willing to bet he met up with his friends at the fountain every day.
It was time to become a pickpocket.
I made my way to the metro and to my apartment to change into Eva. I got rid of the long brown wig and the stylish clothes and put on a pair of Converse, some baggy jeans, and a baggy T-shirt. I pulled my hair up in a ponytail that I pushed through the back of my baseball hat so a thick blond wave bounced behind me and a flash drive into my front pocket. I had a half-formed plan of what I was going to do with it. I just hoped I’d know when the time was right.
I rushed to the fountain in Halle around four p.m., but none of the skateboarders were there. Instead, it was filled with younger kids and their moms, many with ice cream. The kids ran about and put their hands in the fountain, while the moms talked with each other, keeping one eye on their children at all times.
This time I sat on the back side of the cement benches so I wasn’t looking at the fountain. Instead, I was looking directly at a McDonalds. The smell of french fries wafted past and an urge to go buy some hit me. I’d told myself that while in France, I would not resort to eating American food. I wanted to immerse myself in the culture. But it was tempting; McDonalds was everywhere.
The mothers and children left, most likely heading home to make dinner, and the older skaters slowly trickled past me into the fountain area. Even the tall boy came today. I could only hear them once they walked into the inner ring but even then not perfectly since there were bushes, flowers, and cement between us. However, I did catch a few interesting tidbits. They worked l’Orangerie and the Louvre most of the time and no one liked working l’Orangerie. There were also far more pickpockets than the ones I’d already identified.
I’d thought about bringing a skateboard and skating my way into their group, but that would take time I didn’t have. Besides, I wasn’t that great of a skater, and they were far more advanced than I was. What if they didn’t let me join them?
Kamal was on constant pick patrol. It seemed his eyes and mind were always looking for the next opportunity to swipe something from someone, but while he skated, he never acted on it.
One of the younger pickpockets headed out. But before he left, he casually rummaged through Kamal’s bag and pulled out a fresh bag. The boy then picked through the bag he’d brought earlier and shoved a few items from it into the new bag. Kamal watched him the whole time. So, this was how a lot of his crew got their bags for the next week. Another left, and Kamal watched him too. A plan formed in my mind, and I texted Ace to let him know about it. I knew he wouldn’t be able to do much to help—he and Halluis were both busy with Siron’s line of investigation—but what I was doing was risky. I needed backup or at least for someone to know where I was and what I was planning in case things went wrong. My body tensed in preparation.
The second I saw the next pickpocket take her bag, I stood and moved toward the girl. She put the bag with a moon embroidered on it over her shoulder and headed for the nearest exit, waving goodbye to the others. I caught up with her at the exit and pretended to stumble into her. As I did, she lurched forward, arms outstretched to catch herself, and I snatched the purse off her shoulder, and took off. I ducked my head down and prayed Kamal had watched her just like he had watched the other two.
I didn’t have to go far before I heard pounding feet behind me. My instinct was to speed up and get the heck away from Kamal, but I had to let him catch me in order to get his attention and hopefully become a part of his team. To do that, I had to run until I was far enough away from the fountain that we would be alone, away from the others.
I hurried around several corners, leading him a few blocks away. He was right behind me.
Arms appeared and surrounded my chest, effectively stopping me in my tracks. Just as suddenly, I was thrown against the stucco wall of a building, hands pressing my back and shoulders against it. Air flew out of my mouth.
“What exactly did you think you were doing?” Kamal demanded, the spicy scent of curry on his breath. His fingers dug into me.
“I, uh, I,” I stammered, wriggling, putting up some effort to escape. I looked side to side as if searching for someone to save me, but no one would be coming down this alley. It was a dead end.
He increased the pressure on my shoulders. There would be bruising.
“Hey, no need to hurt me. You that girl’s body guard or something?” I spoke French with a thick Portuguese accent, emphasizing the fact that I was not a native. How I wished Jeremy had eyes on me. Being completely alone was no fun as a spy.
“I asked you what you thought you were doing.” He hit me into the wall over and over.
“Just trying to make it out here, that’s all. She didn’t have a good hold on it, ya know?”
“No, you tripped her, causing her to lose her balance.” He bared his teeth and cocked his head to the side.
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have had to do that had she kept it in her hand and not on her shoulder. Is she hurt? I-I didn’t mean to hurt her. Her bag looked kinda full, and I wanted to see what was inside.”
“You been doing this long?”
“Only about a week now. I just need stuff, ya know?” I looked frantically around. “I’m really sorry. Please. You’re hurting me.”
“Did you run away from home or something?” His hold on me relaxed.
“What’s it to you?” Did being a street kid earn me sympathy points with this guy? I’d play that up.
His eyes dilated slightly as he looked me over. He was considering me. “Just asking. That was a pretty cool move you did there. If I hadn’t been watching, you would have gotten away with it. It was pretty gutsy with all those people around.”
I smiled. “It’s one of the best ways to get bigger things off people, ya know?” I pressed my palms into the wall behind me.
“The problem is that you were picking in my area.” His look was once again menacing.
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.” I tapped my foot on the dirty asphalt.
“I’ve never seen you before.” He stared at me like someone searching his memory for a recollection of someone.
He’d loosened his hold when he’d thought I was an orphan, so being on my own was a plus, maybe being a newbie would be too. “I moved here last week. I need a way to live, ya know?”
He nodded and his look softened again. “Actually I do know. You should come work for me.”
Something told me not to give in easily. I shook my head. “No way. Uh, uh. I don’t want to work for no one.”
He tilted his head to the side.
“I’m a one-girl show. I don’t need anyone.” All sympathy left him.
His hands left my shoulders, still holding the bag, but he set them on the wall beside my head and then spread his legs to hem me in. “In that case, I’m going to have to hurt you.” He flipped out a knife and brought it to my face.
I pushed hard against the building and sucked in a breath. I’d said the wrong thing. He didn’t want me to think I had any kind of choice. I would join him or die. The wall seemed harder and the dank smell of the alley turned my stomach. Distant chatter and laughter filtered in from the main area outside the alley. “Well, I’m not sure,” I stammered, time t
o show some vulnerability. “I mean, I don’t want to get hurt and I’ve never worked for anyone before and…I don’t know…I mean, what do you mean work for you?”
His forearm pressed me harder into the wall and my shoulder blades ached. Even speaking through clenched teeth, the smells of mint and curry met me. “I’m offering you something here. It’s not something you can turn down. You’re lucky I’ve given you as much attention as I have. You need to realize that and remember it.”
I wanted to nod, but couldn’t without having the knife cut into me.
“Fine,” I squeaked. “But I really need this money.”
“We all need money.” He smirked.
“I need it for my family. My dad’s sick. Really sick. I have to help him.”
His eyes softened yet again. “I can supply opportunities you’d never get on your own, and I can keep you safe from other groups.”
“Really? What kind of opportunities?” I blinked a couple of times and then gazed at him with extreme focus.
He put the knife back in his pocket and swung the bag in front of me. “You see this?”
I put my attention on the bag. “Uh, I stole it remember? Of course I’ve seen it.”
“Ah, but you really haven’t.”
I stared at the light brown bag, the black crescent moon staring out at me. I raised my eyebrows in anticipation.
“This bag gets you into the best museums and keeps you safe while you’re in them.”
I scowled. “I can go into any museum I want already.”
“Have you picked at any museums in town?” He jerked his head back, surprise in his voice. It told me what my answer should be. I could make him think I’d pulled off some good heists so he’d be even more determined to collect me.
“Of course.” I stared at him with narrowed eyes.
“And you got away with what you stole?” His fingers went to his parted lips.
“Yes.” I drew the word out and put my hands on my hips. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Fatal Exchange Page 6
