The warehouse sat on the outskirts of Avignon.
Marceau Vidal stepped inside, flashlight cutting through the dark.
His coat was damp, and his nerves raw.
He'd been called here at 2:03 a.m., no explanation, just coordinates from his source of information.
He walked through the empty space.
It felt like the kind of place where you could disappear, and no one would ever find you.
He finally saw the man standing near a broken window.
The man didn't turn to acknowledge him, his back stiff and unmoving.
No name, no greeting.
Just a long silence.
Marceau exhaled sharply, the cold air making his breath visible. "You call me out here in the middle of the night. You'd better tell me something worth frostbite."
The man turned and spoke in a low voice.
"Something big is moving."
Marceau narrowed his eyes. "Big how?"
