Burim showed the color Xerox of the photograph of Pia to yet another young girl who was living on the streets. By now he must have shown that picture to ten thousand strays and runaways. He had been offered girls like that, if such was his fancy, or perhaps a younger girl? He had been told many times that he could have the address of the girl in the picture for twenty or fifty or a hundred pounds. But no one had seen Pia. Burim knew it was useless, but he pressed on. It was better than sitting around doing nothing, and he felt progressively desperate. In reality he knew that the only way he would ever hear anything was if the London Albanian crime network picked up some word. Burim took the cell phone that Harry had lent him the day before, and called the house in Tottenham. No, Harry hadn’t heard anything. And what was Burim thinking, calling at this time of the morning?

Burim ended the call. He wondered if George was having any luck or if Burim had just replicated his own futility in bringing him here. Of course part of the reason for getting him to London was just for Burim to give vent to his anger at George for getting him involved in such a futile wild-goose chase.

The man who had been following Burim for the past three hours noted the time of Burim’s call, and emailed what he had observed to his boss. This was what he had been asked to look for, and finally, he had witnessed it.

•   •   •

GEORGE HAD FOUND BURIM late on Thursday morning. Burim had decided even before he got there that it was probably smart not to let the local Albanians know he had brought the kid over, so he had told George to find himself a room in a different part of town from him. He had handed George a sheaf of banknotes and told him to get himself a cell phone. Then he gave George a few copies of the picture of Pia and told him to keep his cell phone on. He never knew when the call might be coming. George was dutifully doing as Burim asked, visiting the major Underground, train, and bus stations with the pictures of Pia, and like Burim, he was seeing a different side to London than most American visitors ever saw.

•   •   •

JIMMY YAN HAD BEEN asleep only two hours when his alarm woke him on Friday morning. Still, he wasn’t tempted to try to grab another few minutes—it was not his habit to do so, and today it was important that everything run on time. Jimmy had stayed up most of the night to finalize the elaborate preparations, finishing with a long call on the secure line to his superior in Beijing, going over every detail of the plan, especially the piece that catered to their unexpected houseguest.