Sweet chestnut trees loomed overhead as Sylvere moved along a narrow, stone pathway in the direction of a stone bench. To the west, above the waters of the Atlantic, the sun already had begun...

“We’ll do what has to be done,” the younger man said, speaking French. Laughter could be heard. It was women’s laughter. “We’re running out of time,” the older man said in Lingala. Behind the...

Knock. Knock. Knock. Then came a voice. “Sylvere.” The voice sounded again. “Sylvere.” He opened his eyes. The voice came from the other side of the closed sliding-glass door. Sylvere was awake now. The...

Turning toward an open door to a small office at the foot of a wide staircase, the Flemish woman disappeared into the office without warning. Equally quickly, a very young, maybe 19 or 20...

The silence hanging over the table was heavy, but Sylvere, finishing the food on his plate, was unconcerned. He was just a man enjoying a nice meal in a nice restaurant. The other three...

The front door of the small building looked like it had been given a fresh coat of paint only the day before. Switching his gaze from the newly applied red paint on the wooden...

The streaking black car on the pale highway crossed a field of clover before braking hard on the outskirts of Leuven, a medieval city of cathedrals and over-sized burghers’ houses, where Chérubin and Sylvere...

Tourists already had started appearing on the streets next to the town square, or markt, as it was known in Flemish, wearing clothes they selected for the warm weather. The men dressed in shorts...