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Othar

The Master has made a point about Paris being a safe haven for the world's art. He'd pay plenty to prevent this being made public. Good one

Again and again I find myself asking why steal the Louvre? You can't fence it. Hmm- but I'll bet you could ransom it. The Master would pay.
I have an nifty refrigerator inspector disguise (little used, sadly), but it would take over 11 years to search the city. Probably too long.
The only thing working for me is that objects that have been molecularly shrunk need to be kept cold. The colder the better. Not a big help.
My best course of action will be to find the Louvre. This could be tricky, as it would, by my calculations, now be less than a meter square.
They're sorting bones. Efficient. Separating them out. Wait. There are four piles, not three. Someone else was in there. I wonder who it is?
Eventually the fire is out. Most of the crowd disperses. Firemen begin to comb the wreckage. I magnify. Charred bones. I feel ill.
There's no danger of the fire spreading. Good. The gas main has been shut off. The dragons almost have the fire out. I do not see the Zyns.
Ah. the rooftops of Paris. Always a fine setting for adventure. And pigeons. I set my lenses to magnify and start looking at the fire scene.
This means that until I have proof, I cannot deal with any of the Serpents. If I can find one that's not mind controlled. Why me? I ask you.
He drops. I run. No pursuit. This is troubling. He knew I wasn't a Serpent. But how? Do they have secret signals? Or just know each other?
He goes for his gun, thus opening himself up to the deadly Basque Lepus Punch, which was taught to me by a very irritated old Basque bandit.
As we walk, I mention that I've never seen him before. How long has he been on the force? Who does he report to? He grins. "Nicely done."
As I'm talking to the firefighter, a man comes up a flips his badge. Serpent. I show mine. He nods, says there's a meeting. I follow him.
The first reports are coming in. Fire caused by a combination of spilt cooking oil and natural gas. In other circumstances, I'd be jealous.
I must take a chance. I approach one of the dragon handlers and show my badge. Did the Zyns make it out? He doesn't know, but will find out.
Step back. Look again. Too many people are scanning the crowds as opposed to watching the fire. Looking for an arsonist, or looking for me?
Finally! The great brass water dragons of the Paris fire department lumber up, attach tails to hydrants and start spouting. This is arson.
Technically, it is doughnuts, as well as everything else. The bistro's a roaring wall of flame. Where are the Zyns? Don't see them anywhere.
This is tricky, I have to rush over there without attracting attention. But I see I have an excuse. A column of smoke. Hope it's doughnuts.