Date: August 14–15, 2005 (Crowe’s Analysis)

  Location: Seattle (Analysis of Paris, 1905 Archives)

  On August 14, 2005, James Crowe sat in the 5th-floor reading room of the Seattle Public Library, starting his day with a call to Sarah Wilson. The city was warm at 73°F, a light breeze carrying the scent of Puget Sound. The library’s glass walls by Rem Koolhaas gleamed, but caution was needed—the Seattle Police Department reported 280 pickpocketing incidents in the area that year.

  Crowe held the phone, his voice tense. “Sarah, I need your help. I found another ‘Paris, 1900s’ box, but I can’t decipher the handwriting. Can you come by?”

  Sarah’s voice carried a smile. “Mr. Crowe, you know I can’t resist old documents. But you owe me lunch. I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

  While waiting, Crowe spread the documents on the table: a notebook, a red marker, an empty coffee cup, and a pack of cookies, down to its last few. The reading room hummed—students flipped through textbooks, a researcher pored over newspapers. Sarah arrived with a magnifying glass and notepad, examining the documents. “This is Henri Dupont’s handwriting,” she said. “He’s describing the ‘Social Mirror.’ Want me to read it aloud?”

  Crowe nodded, eyes lighting up. Using his “360 Method,” he pictured the Brotherhood’s classroom—a room with desks, bookshelves, and a table with mirrors, clocks, and emotion lists: “joy,” “sadness,” “anger.” The five children sat in pairs. Henri stood by the table, his expression cold. “Today, you’ll learn to gain trust,” he said. “Work in pairs. One is a ‘stranger,’ the other has five minutes to make them trust you. Mirror their gestures, tone, breathing. Begin.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Sophie paired with Jean, who played the “stranger,” arms crossed, speaking suspiciously: “I don’t know why I’m here.” Sophie mirrored his posture and tone: “I get it. I don’t like being forced either.” Jean relaxed, sharing a “secret” within three minutes. Henri noted: “Sophie—intuitive, mirrors perfectly.”

  Sarah read Henri’s notes, detailing the “Social Mirror” method, based on John B. Watson’s behaviorism. Watson, who later applied psychology to advertising, believed behavior could be shaped. The Brotherhood taught children to “mirror” others—copying gestures, expressions, and tone to build trust. Henri trained them to recognize emotions and took older children like Louis to Paris markets to practice on vendors.

  Sarah set the documents down, eyes wide. “That sounds creepy. They were teaching kids to manipulate people, back in 1905?”

  Crowe nodded. “Yes, and it worked. They could open any door just by mimicking someone’s behavior.”

  A 1990s New York document mentioned 40-year-old Marc Laurent, a product of the Brotherhood’s 1960s Paris upbringing. In 1995, Marc infiltrated a Manhattan party, mirroring a security guard, and extracted information from a CEO, enabling a lucrative scam. Crowe realized this method made Family members masters of manipulation.

  “If they could manipulate people this easily, who knows where they are now,” he muttered, tension in his voice.

  Kyle entered, holding a book on psychology. “Still here, detective?” he asked warmly. “You look like you’ve uncovered something intriguing.”

  “Let’s just say I figured out how this organization taught its kids to manipulate people,” Crowe replied with a faint smile. “They could convince you to give them everything, and you wouldn’t notice.”

  Kyle laughed, but unease flickered in his eyes. “That sounds creepy. Do you think some of them might be here in Seattle?”

  “If they’re as good as I think, they could be anywhere,” Crowe replied. “And that means I need to hurry.”