Two days before, Little Maghreb neighborhood.

Isaac was riding his bike in the street, between the tall apartment buildings and the vacant lot. He was practicing balancing without using his hands. It wasn't easy. Technically he was on lookout for the gang, but no police cars had been in the neighborhood since the election, so he had time to enjoy himself.

Isaac had just turned around at the end of the street when he saw the old man. He was so wrinkled that it was hard to make out his facial features, and he had almost no hair left. He walked up the vacant lot with that slow gait that very old people have. An atmosphere of ancientness had descended upon Issac just by looking at him, and even though he was only ten years old, he had the impression of having lived many lives.

Isaac was as if hypnotized. He stood still, watching the old man's strange advance. What was he doing there? You didn't see many white people in the neighborhood, especially over thirty. Except for the cops, of course.

After what seemed like an infinite amount of time, the old man entered the vacant lot through the hole in the fence. It was like an electric shock for Isaac. He had not given the signal! He dropped his bike, and ran toward the hole at full speed, but it was too late. The gang members had already seen the old man. Rachid was going to yell at him for sure. Damn it!

As Isaac passed the fence, he saw that several guys had their knives out. It didn't look good. Why did they always have to do this? They must have known it would bring the cops back to the neighborhood. And his mother was going to forbid him to leave the apartment for several weeks again...

The old man seemed completely unaware of the situation he was in. He looked at Rachid, then gave him a toothless smile, as if he had recognized him as the leader, and approved of the gang's behavior. He said with an accent so thick you could cut it with a knife:

"Hello, I'm looking for a place to sleep, and a way to make money. I'm sure resourceful young people like you can help an elder."

What? How did he survive so long? He must be sick, and out of his mind like my uncle Max.

The gang members burst out laughing, and Kalil joked:

"We know a lot of ways to make money, have you tried making porn on the internet?"

The old man looked at him with an interested look. "No, how does it work?"

The others laughed even louder, but Isaac noticed that they hadn't dropped their knives, and that Rachid was looking at the old man defiantly. What did he think? That he was an undercover cop or something. It was absurd. Yet Isaac cautiously stayed away. He recognized the signs, there was going to be violence.

As if to prove him right, Kalil approached the old man, brandishing his knife.

"It's very simple," he said. "All you have to do is bend over, and I'll stick you in the ass."

The old man burst out laughing in turn, then suddenly his eyes began to glow with an unhealthy glint. Rachid immediately pulled out the gun he kept in the back of his pants, but too late.

It was like a flash in Isaac's head. He felt faint, and collapsed to the floor, vomiting his breakfast. He couldn't see anything, he couldn't hear anything. His body began to shake uncontrollably.

I'm going to die.

A warm liquid flowed down his thigh as his bladder emptied.

Aman tanrim, I'm going to die.

Mommy, help me!

But, inconceivable as it may seem, he did not die. Seconds later, he even managed to open his eyes. There was vomit all over his shirt, as well as blood. Isaac put his hand to his face and saw that he was bleeding from his nose. Clumsily plugging his nostril with his finger, he stood up.

He was looking at a sight he would never forget in his life. All the members of the gang were lying on the ground in their piss. Only Rachid was still standing, motionless, his gun in his outstretched hand. The old man was right in front of him, he just had to shoot! But he was shaking with his whole body, and Isaac could hear him say:

"I beg you, don't hurt me. I beg you."

Is it really Rachid? No way! He is not afraid of anything. One day, he even spit in the face of a policeman!

Yet Rachid was so afraid of the old man that he couldn't even find the strength to pull the trigger. Isaac crouched down, taking refuge behind an old barrel and some pallets that were near the fence. His heart was pounding, and his head was still hurting. He didn't understand what was going on.

"Arrogant, uneducated people," the old man growled, not caring that the gun barrel was still pointed at him. "The wilderness would have given you wisdom, but growing up in this city has made you weak. Such a pity."

The old man walked over to Rachid, then tapped his shoulder with compassion. The young man's eyes immediately rolled back in their sockets, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious. The vacant lot looked like the remains of a battlefield.

"Come here, boy!" said the old man in Isaac's direction, as if he could see through the wooden pallet.

Driven by an invisible force, his throat so dry it hurt, Isaac emerged from his hiding place. As soon as his eyes fell on the old man, something in him awakened, a primal part that wanted to howl at death. He gritted his teeth with all his might to hold back.

"Ahah, don't worry," the old man said with his toothless smile. "I won't eat you."

Isaac swallowed loudly, then asked in a small voice, "Are they dead?"

"Who? Them? No, they're just taking a nap."

"Are you a mummy?" he asked again, more boldly.

"What's a mummy?" the old man asked in return, tilting his head in curiosity.

"It's a dead guy that the Egyptians wrapped in strips so that he would have eternal life, I saw it on TV the other day."

The old man frowned for a moment, as if the question deserved deep reflection. Then he answered:

"I don't have any strips."

"That's true," Isaac admitted.

"Do you know where I can find a place to sleep and some money?" the old man asked again.

"Uh, there's the homeless shelter," Isaac replied even though he was on the verge of an aneurysm imagining the old man there. "And about the money..."

He hesitated, the answer was obvious, but it posed a case of conscience for him. In the neighborhood, the gang was the law, and from a young age, Isaac had learned not to disturb their business. It was rule zero when it came to surviving to adulthood. Before today, he had never thought of questioning it, but this time...

"Well?" the old man said impatiently, squinting his eyes.

He made up his mind. After all, he wasn't revealing more than everyone knew.

"Rachid and the others must have some cash, and, if that's not enough for you, you can resell the drugs they're hiding in the scrap heap over there."

"Hmm," said the old man, thoughtfully. "You're saying I can make money selling drugs?"

How could he not know that?

"Yes sir, lots of money, the gang is very powerful and very rich. It controls the whole neighborhood."

"Interesting, what is the name of this organization?"

"The Ring, sir," said Isaac, who was beginning to feel a little better. The old man didn't seem so scary anymore. There was even something fragile about him... No, he shook his head. It was all an illusion. The lifeless bodies of Rachid and the others were there to testify to that.

"I see you are well brought up," said the old man with satisfaction.

"Yes sir, my mother always told me to respect my elders."

But I probably don't do it as much as I should.

The old man nodded, his eyes shining. "A fine woman, I'd like to meet her."

Isaac shivered without knowing why. Some of the irrationnal fear he had been feeling earlier had returned. He repressed it, and answered politely.

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"Yes sir."

"Now take me to the headquarters of The Ring."

"Sir?"

"Are you having trouble hearing?"

"No sir, don't you want to take Rachid's cash?"

"Who's got time for these little fish?" replied the old man with his toothless smile. "There's better game to hunt."

With no way out, feeling like he had been taken as a hostage, Isaac began to guide the old man. He wondered if he had made a huge mistake. He had thought the old man would just steal the money and drugs before leaving, but apparently he had something else in mind.

Something he had thought impossible all his life.

A part of him was so excited that he couldn't feel the fear anymore.

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Whistling happily, Alek followed the kid he met through the neighborhood. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining in the sky, and the birds were singing. It had been so long since he had been out that he was on cloud nine, he could even shrug off the hellish heat. There were no such temperatures in Siberia. It wasn't natural.

Two girls in their early twenties were walking across the street, their shorts molding their buttocks, exposing the entire length of their legs, and their tops not even covering their bellies. Yes, he should have gotten the hell out of the nursing home months ago. He couldn't spend all his time holding hands with Leonard's nephew. His debt was largely paid.

Now he had another, bloodier one to settle.

"By the way," he asked. "Why are you all dark-skinned around here?"

The kid frowned before answering, embarrassed, "It's because our ancestors came from Africa."

"Ahhh, you're expats, like me."

There were so many things he didn't know, so many new things to discover. He felt like a kid on a new playground. It was so much fun. He would love to take a ride under the sheets with one of these women, their beauty was terribly exotic.

"It's a crumbling building on the next street over," the kid said, stopping abruptly. "If we keep going like this, we'll get spotted by the lookouts."

Ah yes, that Ring organization. A good start.

"Wait for me here, I'll go alone,” Alek said.

It would be a waste to lose such a good little guide.

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Isaac had been waiting for almost an hour in front of the butcher shop. The curious glances of the owner had long since turned into looks of distrust. He expected him to come out and yell at him at any moment now, but the old man had told him to wait there, and he didn't dare disobey. The only good thing is that his pants were almost dry now.

He didn't know what the old man was doing at The Ring's headquarters. He wasn't going to rob them, was he? Sure, he didn't look like a thief with... well, with his age, but that wouldn't help him get near the drugs. It was under guard at all times. Same thing with the cash.

Finally, what had to happen happened. The butcher came out of the store, and walked towards him with a threatening look. Isaac was about to run away, he had learned the hard way that there was no point in arguing in such cases. But the butcher stopped a few steps away from him, white as a sheet, and hurried back.

Shit, I've let my attention wander.

A gigantic shadow covered Isaac who didn't dare to turn around. A hand came down on his shoulder and forced him to do so. In front of him was a two-meter tall giant with arms as wide as tree trunks. Isaac was completely trapped. What had happened? Why hadn't the old man returned?

The giant looked at him in silence for a long time.

He's muscular, but his weight would surely slow him down, I might have a chance if I...

"The boss says you can come now," the giant said in a respectful tone.

"The boss?" asked Isaac. How did he know him?

"The new boss," specified the giant.

Then, after a while, he added:

"Sorry about your brother, he was cool."

Isaac froze, a flash of pain shooting through his chest. He should have suspected that the giant knew him. Obviously, he worked at headquarters. He closed his eyes for a moment to suppress his tears, pushed all memories about his brother deep inside, and said in a neutral tone:

"I'll follow you."

They walked up the street, then entered the building. The sentries watched him pass with a mixture of curiosity and nervousness. What had happened in there? An electric shock went through his numb brain, and it was only then that he realized. The new boss? The old man certainly hadn't—

"He's in the big room with the others," the giant said, interrupting his thoughts.

"Okay," replied Isaac, who had decided to go with the flow.

"I don't know how you know him, or what you're up to with him," the giant continued. "The guys and I are just trying to stay on his good side, you know. Whatever he wants, try not to piss him off."

Isaac nodded, that was his plan. That old man was just too scary.

Reassured, the giant pushed open the door, and guided him inside. The old man was sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, like a king on his throne. Three members of the gang surrounded him, and were engaged in an animated conversation with him. Isaac and the giant approached. A draught brought the smell of blood to their nostrils. Isaac turned his head. In the corner of the room, four bodies were piled up. Freshly killed gang members. He swallowed nervously.

"Don't worry, sir,” said someone. “The few casualties you caused to our team will not prevent us from maintaining current operations.”

"I trust you," the old man said with his toothless smile. "I'm sure that none of you will try to trick an elder."

"Of course not," shouted a wily-looking gang member. "However, we must warn you that the mayor takes a cut of the revenue to fund his party… it helps us limit run-ins with the police."

"Oh, fine," the old man said casually. "As long as he's not too greedy anyway, or we'll have to put someone else in his place."

A deafening silence filled the room. Isaac saw sweat beading on the forehead of the gang member who had just spoken. Crazy, he's totally crazy.

The old man's eyes began to glow when he saw him, and he motioned for Isaac to come closer.

"Come over here kid, I wanted to ask you some really important questions."

The gang members retreated without further ado, even the giant left the room, leaving the two of them alone. Isaac had felt the assessing weight of the stares on him. If he played his cards right, he would be able to gain an unassailable position in the gang. Avenging his brother's murder had always seemed out of reach, but maybe that could change.

He had to answer the old man's questions in a satisfactory manner. He braced himself.

"Do you know how the internet works?"

Issac was so surprised that he almost asked the old man to repeat, but he bit his lip to stop himself.

"Yes, sir. I can access it with this," he replied, pulling out his phone.

"Really fascinating," the old man said, nodding his head. "They say you can find all kinds of information on it."

"That's right, you can find anything on the internet."

The old man squinted his eyes evilly. "Even what people want to keep hidden above all else?"

Isaac hastened to nod. "Yes. If you hire a specialist, a hacker, he can expose all the secrets of your enemies."

"Fantastic, I'll have to get one. Money won't be a problem I believe. In the meantime, explain to me how this rival gang the others told me about works."

"Sir? The White Ghosts?"

"Ah no, no. I'm talking about the Police."

Isaac took a deep breath. This was going to be a long conversation.