Chapter Two: Ninety Seconds

The rain had stopped. Instead of returning to his rented attic, Lin walked four kilometers to an abandoned freight yard in Saint-Ouen. He and other academy boys had once trained there after hours. Behind the wall, weeds now divided the little pitch into islands. He sat on a rusted bench and inserted the wafer into a secondhand tablet. Nothing happened. Then he tapped Vega's penalty rhythm against the screen—once, twice, pause, once. The display lit. [Are you safe?] “For now,” Lin said into the microphone. “Where are you?” There was no video, only text. [I don't know. I was blindfolded when they moved me. I hear aircraft twice every day, and there are training pitches nearby.