Alarms rang in the Pavillon de Breteuil as the sleek black SUV raced away. Howard Putnam drove, known as Howe. Vicky Gallow rode shotgun and held shotgun, stereotypical "progressive 'cause she's a woman" heavy. In the back, techie Leela Invesco and mastermind Ellen Ishitoma, a delirious smile on her face as she petted the secure case in her lap.

City park slid by, the Eiffel Tower peeking into view between patches of trees. As he drove, Howe said, "So, that thing's platinum, right? What's it worth?"

"Oh, about thirty thousand dollars." Ellen giggled. "If you did the stupid thing and melted it down. We're going to change it."

Leela looked up from her anonymized burner phone. "That means what, then?"

"With the international prototype of the kilogram in my hands, I can change the definition of mass. I can make things heavier or lighter. Ten thousand dollars to launch a kilogram to orbit? Not once I change the kilogram!" She laughed. Leela looked blank.

Vicky looked over her shoulder. "You know they redefined the kilogram last year, right? Something to do with the Planck length, I think."

Ellen's face fell slack. "Okay," said Howe. "So how's she gonna pay us?"