I walk briskly down Rue Bonaparte, my hands deep in my pockets as I scan the street for a tall silhouette. But I’ve left my curtains closed, my lights on, snuck out the back and taken such a roundabout route that it would be the shittiest of miracles if he were here right now. But he’s not. It’s just after 10 pm and there are only five other people I can see on the streets. Their hair shimmers under streetlights. One of them smokes a cigarette. All of them are a long way away from me – without night-vision goggles they couldn’t possibly see what I was doing even if they tried – but even so, I grit my jaw as I turn left, slipping into the alleyway beside the gallery. I’m not sure how much of the alleyway the CCTV takes in, so I skirt the far wall and keep my face angled down, until I’m past the camera and behind the stairs.

I reach into my bag, feeling around for the roll of duct tape I bought from the DIY section of Franprix as soon as I got Noah’s message. There it was, all innocuous, right beside the mothballs, insect spray and little packets of screws.

I use my teeth to rip off a small piece of tape, step up onto the back of the stairs, and cover the CCTV lens. Then I drop the roll back into my bag and feel around for the locksmith tools I found in the bottom of my suitcase. Because what if she’s changed the back door code? And what if that YouTube video is wrong: what if I can’t just pop the lock on that drawer with a couple of bobby pins?

I make my way up the stairs to the back door, past the spot where I smoked with Noah, hold my breath and reach for the keypad and trace a cross, just like he did.

Click.

I push open the door and move into the dusty warmth, shutting the door behind me as I look around for the alarm. I expected beeping, but there is no beeping just the orange glow of a rectangular outline and some buttons up ahead on the wall. My heart bangs so loudly against my chest it feels like the vibration alone might set off the alarm. I rush towards that orange rectangle and punch in: 0-3-1-1.

The orange glow turns green, I pull my phone from my bag and turn on the torch, using it to light the way past a small kitchen and a bathroom, through to the main room. None of the windows have curtains on them, anyone walking past could see me and so, once I know where the desk is, I turn off the torch and crawl quickly in the shadows to crouch behind it.

Reaching into my bag I pull out the bobby pins.