The next day, the downpour has stopped, but the city remains numb beneath a low, ash-colored sky. Inspector Gabriel Moreau walks briskly past the sparse stalls of the covered Magnacour market, his mind focused on the mysterious meeting he is about to attend. Over the phone that morning, a female voice altered by a vocoder had given him brief instructions:
"I have information about the Meteore incident. Come alone to Magnacour market, aisle three, at noon."
Unable to ignore such a lead, Gabriel came in person, caution on alert beneath his worn coat. He passes a fishmonger rinsing out his bins, a cloud of briny odor hanging in the air. Aisle three is nearly deserted at this hour. Only a closed fruit shop casts a long shadow across the puddle-speckled floor.
Gabriel stops, pretending to adjust his loose shoelace to take a careful look around. No one in sight except an elderly woman bent under the weight of vegetable bags, shuffling slowly down the aisle. A faint metallic squeak sounds as a door opens slightly a few meters away, in the shadows behind the shuttered stand.
Gabriel straightens at once.
"Inspector Moreau?" a woman's voice whispers from the narrow opening.
Backlit, he makes out a female silhouette, but her face remains hidden beneath the shadow of her hood. Gabriel nods subtly, one hand slipping under his coat toward his service weapon out of caution.
"Who are you?" he murmurs without moving.
"A friend… or rather, an enemy of your enemies," the voice replies, slightly trembling.
The silhouette gestures for him to approach. Gabriel hesitates for a second, then closes the distance and slips inside. The door shuts softly behind him, sealing them in the relative darkness of what appears to be a small storage room adjoining the market.
The stranger lowers her hood. In the dim light filtering through a dusty skylight, Gabriel sees a delicate face with high cheekbones framed by slightly damp brown strands of hair. The young woman's pale green eyes—almost translucent—lock onto his with a mixture of intensity and apprehension.
"Thank you for coming," she breathes. "I didn't trust your colleagues, or the usual procedure… There are too many leaks."
Gabriel studies her for a moment. Early thirties, elegant despite modest clothing, visibly nervous—her fingers toy with a silver pendant around her neck—yet her voice tries to remain composed.
"You said you had information about what happened last night," Gabriel begins quietly. "Who exactly are you?"
She offers a sad smile.
"My name doesn't matter. Let's just say… I've also lost someone in this city because of those who think they're untouchable."
Gabriel notices the contained anger in her voice. He folds his arms but remains on guard.
"And how does that connect you to the Meteore case?"
She takes a breath, gathering her courage.
"The man who died yesterday… I knew him," she says at last. "Not personally, but I knew who he was and what he did. And I know why he was killed."
Gabriel's eyebrows lift slightly at her certainty.
"Go on."
"You won't find his name in your files. They must have confiscated it, right? Because he worked on Prometheus."
Gabriel remains outwardly impassive, though his pulse quickens almost imperceptibly. How does she know about that censored detail?
"Continue."
"His name was Stanislas Beaumont. A security engineer on the Prometheus Project. From what I know, he was a good man. Not the type to get involved in shady deals. If he ended up in Meteore in the middle of the night carrying an explosive device… it's because someone forced him."
"Someone? A criminal gang? Anarchists?"
She glances toward the door, as if afraid of being overheard. Her voice drops.
"There are rumors… of a clandestine group opposing the city's government. Not just agitators. Something far more organized and dangerous. They recruit experts, scientists… They've infiltrated Prometheus."
Gabriel suppresses a chill. Until now, the official line pointed to industrial sabotage, perhaps a violent technological competitor. But an internal clandestine group… That echoes other cases quietly buried.
"Do you have proof of what you're saying?" he whispers.
She shakes her head.
"Only fragments. Echoes. Beaumont… the engineer who was killed… he had a colleague, a friend, who disappeared last week without a trace. He also worked on Prometheus."
"Disappeared?"
"Officially, on sick leave. Unofficially… no one has heard from him. I suspect he vanished to escape something."
Gabriel rubs his chin thoughtfully. Two Prometheus employees gone within a week—one missing, one brutally killed. If it isn't coincidence, her story makes sense.
"You think these men were linked to this clandestine group?"
She nods, then hesitates.
"Listen, I can't tell you everything right now. I just wanted you… to look in that direction. Officially, they may blame a gang or a lone terrorist. But the truth is elsewhere. Beaumont was executed because he knew something about Prometheus."
Gabriel hears burning determination in her voice. His old-school cop instincts ignite: find the truth, no matter the cost.
"What do you gain by telling me this?" he asks suddenly. "If you're this well informed, you're taking a serious risk by speaking."
A flicker of vulnerability crosses her green eyes.
"I told you… I lost someone too. My brother worked in the uranium mines on the city's outskirts. A 'tragic accident' irradiated him. He died within a week, and no one was ever held accountable. That's when I understood—the system always protects itself. I can't let more innocent people die without reacting."
Her voice breaks slightly at the end, and Gabriel detects painful authenticity in it. If she is acting, she is extraordinary. A pang of compassion mixed with respect touches him.
"I'm sorry about your brother," he says sincerely.
She quickly wipes away a forming tear.
"Expose the truth, Inspector. That's all I want."
Gabriel nods gravely. He knows speaking too much could shatter this fragile trust.
"How can I contact you if I need to?"
She is already backing toward the door.
"You can't. I'll find you, if necessary. Just be careful… They must already know you're investigating. And if you uncover something important about Prometheus… be wary of your superiors."
Before he can say more, the door cracks open and she slips out swiftly.
"Wait—!" Gabriel calls, reaching out.
But she has already vanished into the alley behind the market.
Gabriel stands for a moment in the dim storage room, his heart racing. This woman has stirred more than his professional curiosity—a strange mixture of intrigue and admiration rises within him.
He steps outside and closes the metal door, returning to the pale light of the deserted market. On the wet concrete, only his own footprints remain, none of hers, as if she had been an apparition.
He exhales a breath he didn't realize he was holding and lights a cigarette to steady his nerves, replaying every word.
Stanislas Beaumont. A missing accomplice. A clandestine group. Prometheus infiltrated.
He checks his watch. Mathieu must be waiting at headquarters to debrief. Gabriel forces a neutral expression before leaving the aisle, but inside, a flame has reignited. Commissioner Valmont will not be pleased to hear about secret societies—but Gabriel doesn't care. He will dig, even if it costs him.
As he leaves Magnacour market and heads toward the main avenue where a few rattling electric buses pass by, the memory of the woman's pale eyes still haunts him. A messenger from nowhere, as beautiful as she is elusive, handing him the first piece of the puzzle.
Gabriel has a vague intuition that this meeting is only the beginning. In the shadows of Paris-Nova, something far greater is at work—and he has just pushed open the door.