MONDAY 4PM – THE ENDThere were few pedestrians on the wet November Paris streets that afternoon and as Uzma Rafiq slid out of the yellow taxi, she was glad that they would be meeting alone. Every minute of this weekend had been a painful reminder of a distant love, months of on-line plans, snatches of conversation with the man she planned to spend the rest of her life with. But here, today, Sylvain was coming. He should be here any minute, and then everything would finally be alright. She pressed the golden talisman tightly in her palm, closing her eyes and imagining that Sylvain had been holding this close to his heart ever since the day they parted last summer.
From his lookout across the street, Colin Foster watched as the young Asian woman stood gazing out over the murky canal water.
