Chapter 7
Interpol headquarters’ glass walls caught the morning light and reflected the Rh?ne. Marielle stood on the riverwalk and studied the path between the building and the entrance to Parc de la Tête d’Or, the large park where they’d arranged to meet Anissa Sabban.
To anyone watching, she was admiring the view.
Olivia stood beside her, also scanning for threats. “You see anything?”
“Tourists. Joggers. A few locals walking their dogs. Nothing unusual,” Marielle said.
Did you hear that, nervous system?
Judging by her racing pulse, it had not.
Interpol Criminal Intelligence Officer Anissa Sabban had agreed to meet them at nine a.m. at the park’s rose garden gates.
They’d taken the early train from Paris and arrived in Lyon twenty-five minutes early, leaving plenty of time to shake any tails they might have picked up along the way and to scout out the meeting spot.
They walked the short distance to the entrance to the rose garden to wait for Sabban. It was not a long wait.
Unsurprisingly, Anissa Sabban arrived early to the meeting as well. At eight forty a.m., she emerged from the building and took the riverwalk to the park.
At eight forty-seven she reached the stairs at Porte de la Roseraie.
“Officer Sabban,” Olivia greeted her as they fell into step beside her.
“Ms. Santos. Ms. Moreau.”
“Thank you for meeting us,” Marielle said.
They walked briskly, like three professional women getting some fresh air in the lush urban park before beginning their workday.
“I understand you want to discuss security protocols before I bring you to Ms. Ayari,” Sabban said in a low voice.
“Yes,” Marielle confirmed. “We need to speak to Hanna but we’re concerned because Idris Mahmoud has disappeared from view along with three of his bodyguards. If he’s looking for her, we don’t want to lead him straight to her.”
“Of course.” Sabban’s expression didn’t change, but she clenched and released her fists. “Why is it necessary to meet with her, if I may ask?”
It was a fair question. They’d approached Interpol and asked the agency to protect Hanna, and it had. Under ordinary circumstances, Marielle and Olivia would stay as far away from her as possible—for her safety and theirs.
“Hanna may have information that could help stop a possible terrorist attack.”
Sabban’s dark eyes went wide.
Marielle hurried to add, “We don’t believe she knows anything about the attack itself or is in any way involved. There’s a chance she learned something in passing without realizing its significance.”
“I really must pull in colleagues in other divisions—” Sabban began.
“No. Please,” Olivia said firmly. “Not yet.”
“That’s the protocol.”
“We understand we’re asking for a favor,” Marielle said. “But once we meet with Hanna, we’ll know if this is something or nothing. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“And if it’s something?”
“Then we’ll connect you with our contact at CSIS,” Marielle promised.
Sabban frowned. “Canadian Intelligence? This potential attack involves Canada?”
“We won’t know until we talk to Hanna,” Olivia said pointedly.
The intelligence officer was quiet, considering their request. Then she nodded.
“Given the circumstances, I prefer to bring Ms. Ayari to Paris to meet you. I don’t think it’s a good idea to take you to her.”
Marielle allowed herself a moment to breathe. Their gamble worked.
“That would be fine with us.”
Fine was an understatement. They’d steered the conversation so that the idea to meet in Paris would come from Sabban, and not them. Anissa Sabban’s psychological ownership of the idea would make the change more palatable to Interpol and, importantly, Hanna.
Then the full impact of the woman’s words hit her. “We know our circumstances, but what circumstances are you concerned about?”
Sabban’s expression grew grim. “We’re tracing calls to Ms. Ayari’s mobile number, although we understand the phone itself was discarded. In a pond, I believe.”
It was actually a culvert, but Marielle had no intention of interrupting Anissa.
After a moment, she continued, “There have been two phone calls to that number. We traced both calls to prepaid phones purchased with cash in Tunis. There’s also been one attempted breach of our database.”
“Someone tried to hack Interpol?” Olivia’s voice rose slightly.
“Tried and failed. But it confirms that someone is very interested in finding Ms. Ayari.”
“Her father or Idris,” Marielle said.
“Or both.” The officer stood. “I’ll arrange a car service. Ms. Ayari and I will be in Paris by early afternoon. Where and when shall we meet?”
“We’ll scout a location and let you know,” Olivia said.
“Please be careful. I’d rather not have to explain to my superiors why two American intelligence contractors ended up dead in Paris.”
“We’ll do our best,” Marielle said dryly. “Wouldn’t want to saddle you with all that paperwork.”
Either Anissa Sabban didn’t get sarcasm or she really did view their potential deaths as a bureaucratic burden. “I appreciate that.”
They watched her exit the gate and follow the riverwalk to the Interpol building with a swift, purposeful stride.
They waited to see if anyone trailed the Interpol officer out of the park. Nobody did, so after a reasonable pause, they started moving, too.
They crossed the park to a cab stand to hail a car to the Gare de Lyon Part-Dieu train station. As they reached the sidewalk, Marielle’s neck prickled a warning.
Someone was watching them.
She didn’t turn around or change her pace. But as they continued along the sidewalk, she casually scanned the crowd.
There. A man in a dark jacket, approximately forty meters back. He’d been near the fountain in the park earlier.
She caught Olivia’s eye, and Olivia nodded. She’d seen him, too.
Her expression didn’t change, but her hand moved to the small of her back, where she carried a compact 9mm.
They hailed the first cab they spotted and dove into the back seat. As the driver headed toward the train station, Marielle twisted around to see the man getting into a taxi as well.
“Should we try to lose him?” she whispered.
“No, let’s confront him,” Olivia said in a low tone.
“Confront him?” Marielle was sure she’d misheard.
It had been a long time since her training days, but she was pretty sure you were supposed to shake a tail, not turn around and chat with him.
“Better here than in Paris,” Olivia pointed out. “There’s no reason to lead him straight to the hotel.”
Marielle blew out a breath. She had a point. “D’accord. Okay. You take the lead.”
Olivia nodded.
When they reached the train station, the man was out of his taxi before they’d even paid their fare.
He waited for them to exit, then followed them across the brick concourse to the main entrance of the modern glass station, keeping his distance but never letting them out of sight as they weaved between pedestrians going in all directions.
Just before they reached the doors, Olivia murmured, “I’m done playing with this guy. At the last minute, peel off and take the door to the left. I’ll go right and lead him to the hallway outside the ladies’ room. You circle back.”
“Liv—”
“You’ve got this, Elle.”
She wasn’t so sure, but she took a shaky breath and got ready. Just as Olivia walked through the rightmost entrance, Marielle slid to the left and hurried away from Olivia.
The man hesitated for a fraction of a second, then followed Olivia through the entrance.
Marielle doubled back, moving quickly through the crush of travelers. She emerged from a crowd in time to see Olivia leading the man down a quieter hallway.
She followed at a distance, closing the gap as Olivia drew close to the ladies’ room door at the end of the hall.
Olivia drew her weapon and spun around to face the man in one fluid motion.
“Who sent you?” she demanded.
The man’s hands went up. “Please. I am not armed. I was told only to watch.”
He glanced behind him, looking for an escape, but found Marielle, her gun also drawn, her legs planted in a firing stance. She recognized him.
“He’s one of Idris’s bodyguards.”
“Yes, yes,” he confirmed this fact eagerly, as if it might help him. “Mr. Mahmoud hoped you would lead me to the girl.”
“What girl?”
“His girl.”
“Hanna Ayari is a woman,” Marielle said firmly.
“And what were you supposed to do if we did lead you to her?” Olivia asked.
“Return what belongs to him.”
“Hanna doesn’t belong to anyone,” Marielle said, stepping closer.
The man twisted away from Olivia to meet Marielle’s gaze. The fear in his eyes wasn’t fear of them. It was fear of what would happen to him when Idris learned that he’d failed to find Hanna.
Olivia lowered her weapon but didn’t holster it. “Walk away. And tell your boss if we see you or anyone else following us, we won’t be so polite next time.”
The man nodded and backed away slowly until he drew even with Marielle. Then he turned, race-walked down the hallway, and melted into the crowd in the main hall.
Marielle returned her gun to its holster and shook out her hands, breathing too fast. “That was too easy.”
“I know. He wanted us to see him.”
“Why?”
“Because Idris wants us to know he’s here. Wants us to be scared.”
“It’s working.”
Olivia holstered her weapon. “Good. Scared keeps you alive. Complacent gets you killed.”
They bought their tickets for the next train to Paris and waited uneasily until it was time to board.