The Next Morning at the St. Yves Penthouse.
The rain had stopped, leaving the city washed in a cold, grey light.
Bastian sat at his dining table. He hadn't slept. His hand, where Sacha had bitten him, was bandaged, but the throbbing pain kept him awake.
Go visit a graveyard if you want to talk to ghosts.
The boy's voice echoed in his head on a loop.
"Sir."
Ken walked into the room. He looked exhausted, carrying a thick, sealed manila envelope. The stamp on the front was from a private investigation firm in Paris.
"The digital file was encrypted," Ken said, placing the envelope on the mahogany table. "But the hard copy just arrived by courier. This is everything they could find on Agent Eve and her associates in France."
Bastian stared at the envelope.
"Does it have a photo?" Bastian asked, his voice rough. "A photo of her face?"
"No face," Ken said. "But... there are photos of her family."
Family.
Bastian ripped the seal open.
