Woulfe has to improvise his own break in. His tool? A fridge magnet.

I started to climb the last story to the roof, then realized the balcony here was empty except for discarded cigarette butts. No plants. No chairs. No signs of life.

This wasn’t an apartment. This was an upper level for Faruk’s shop. It was multi-story.

The entrance into the building on this level was a set of French doors, badly fitted in place. A small crack ran between the frame and the mortar.

I peered inside. Against the far wall, on a lower level, refrigerators stood lined up like little soldiers.

I checked the door. A contact sensor was mounted into the frame.

I took out the souvenir magnet, a miniature rendition of the Hagia Sophia, both small and strong. Then I carefully slid it between the sensor and where the original magnetic contact should be.

I taped it in place, tight enough to hold the circuit but not trigger it. With that done, I took out the tiny screwdriver from the eyeglass repair kit and popped the lock. I creaked the door open gently, careful not to jolt the magnetic field of the sensor.

Once it was cracked wide enough, I slipped inside.