Devraj Sinha Part 1 — The Echo in the Dark The gallery stood like a lone lantern in the sleeping street, its glass façade throwing pale squares of light onto wet cobblestones. Midnight rain had just stopped, leaving the air sharp with that metallic scent London kept after a downpour. Lena Brooks had been watching the place for an hour, hood drawn low, hands in her jacket pocket, the spray can warm against her palm. She’d chosen this night carefully. No security guard on the roster—she’d checked the rota online—and the CCTV camera above the side alley had been broken…
