349.jpg -

She slipped a small, heavy envelope into the pocket of his linen jacket. Her touch was fleeting, a ghost of a movement. "Go to the station. Don't wait for the night train. Take the express to Marseille now." "And you?"

Julian knew it was a lie, but in the blinding clarity of the afternoon, he realized that some truths were too heavy for the light of day. He tipped his hat to her, turned on his heel, and walked toward the shadows of the narrow side streets, leaving the lady in red to face the sun alone.

Julian went still. The "349" wasn't a room number or a date. It was a file, a single image captured on a disposable camera that had already changed hands three times in forty-eight hours. "How?"

If you had a different context in mind for , please let me know: Is it related to a specific historical event ?