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Clara looked back at the sea, the wind catching the stray strands of her hair. A photographer passed them, snapping a shot of the "lovely couple" by the water. They both smiled automatically—a practiced, hollow mask of vacationing bliss. "I’ll be right behind you," she lied.

He saw her from fifty yards away. She was a splash of crimson against the pale limestone of the balustrade. Clara always wore red when she wanted to be found, and never when she wanted to be caught. As he approached, the scent of her perfume—something heavy with jasmine and sea salt—hit him before she even turned around.

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?" 349.jpg

"Nothing stays hidden in the sunshine, Julian. That’s the problem with this city. People think the glare hides things, but it only makes the contrast sharper."

"I had to make sure I wasn't followed," Julian replied, leaning against the warm stone beside her. "In this light, every shadow is a mile long." Clara looked back at the sea, the wind

Is it a reference to a (like Thor #349 or Fantastic Four #349 )? Thor Vol 1 349 - Marvel Database

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?" "I’ll be right behind you," she lied

"You're late," she said, her voice barely a whisper over the rhythm of the tide. She didn't look at him. Her gaze was fixed on a yacht anchored far out in the bay, a white speck that looked like it might vanish into the horizon.