Chapter 37

In all of our conversation, there is a technical question to be settled, too. Grant waits to broach it until we’re well into Paris.

I’m transfixed by the scenery – a mix of modern apartments right next to monuments, statues, and buildings straight out of Les Misérables – when he finally breaks the news.

“I need to make a phone call.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head.

“Why not?”

“If Epicurus knows we’re in France, which he probably does because of whoever that was at the airport, there’s a good chance he’s hacked into the phone systems. And if he’s done that, there’s an equal chance he’ll be running some sort of voice recognition software.”

“On millions of phone calls?” Grant asks dubiously.

“So far, he’s demonstrated almost unlimited resources. And if I had unlimited resources, that’s exactly what I would do.”

“Well, we’ll just have to risk it. There’s no way to get in touch with my contact otherwise.”

I stare at him. “What?”

“He has a number set up for just this sort of – ”

“You don’t kn