Yousef sat against the wall in the back room of an abandoned house. He had done what he was ordered to do. But he had failed, failed to get the scientist’s samples or documents, failed to do anything but escape and survive.
He shivered in the darkness and the filth. His clothes had dried hours ago after his swim in the Seine, but now he’d drifted into shock.
He’d lost everything. His friends were dead. The police would find him soon. And he had lost any hope of ascending within the brotherhood.
He pulled a lighter from his pocket and flicked it.
Rats scurried away from the light, disappearing into a gnawed-out section of the wall.
In the dim orange glow, Yousef studied his surroundings: trash and decay scented with urine. Back where he’d started.
He felt the weight of the pistol in his hand. The weapon seemed heavier now, more substantial than when Marko had given it to him. It had drawn no blood, at least not yet.
He put it down and pulled out a cellphone, dialing from memory.
As it was answered, Yousef began to speak.
“I have failed you,” he said.
Marko’s voice came through the speaker, heavy and calm. “Where are you, Yousef?”
“I’m back in La Courneuve,” he said. “The police are looking for me.”
“Yes, they are,” Marko said, then paused. “But they will not reach you before I do.”
The words struck fear into Yousef.
“Are you coming to kill me?”
Marko laughed, and in the empty darkness of the house, the sound echoed. It haunted Yousef to the point where he thought of hanging up, of running. But where could he go? He looked at the gun on the cold floor. He thought of using it on himself, ending the misery before Marko and the others punished him.
“You have done better than you imagine,” Marko said finally. “The Master is pleased with you, Scindo. We will not leave you behind.”
For a moment the chills stopped. Yousef was alone and ready to die just to end the pain, but Scindo was not alone.
“Stay where you are,” Marko said. “I am coming for you.”