Page 188 of Secrets Beneath the Waves
“Camera feeds were down.”
“Convenient,” I say.
Too convenient.
My grip tightens on the phone as my mind spins to come up with an explanation. From the limited facts I’ve just been given, it definitely feels planned. And if Mariam wasn’t taken but walked out on her own, that proves my suspicions that she isn’t who she claims to be.
“What about the local authorities?” I ask.
“I’m heading there now to secure the site and convince them it was a random break-in,” Hawke says.
“And if they still push?” I ask.
“I’ll make sure French intelligence keeps them out of it.”
I let out a sharp huff of air. On top of losing Mariam, the breach of a safe house complicates an already volatile situation. It will need to be quickly shut down and scrubbed, and another safe house must be made ready.
“What do you need us to do?” I ask.
“Go to the ER to debrief Lizzie and get us some answers. I’ll be there as soon as I clean this mess up on my end.”
I end the call, then press my hands against my thighs, not wanting Graham to notice that they’re still shaking.
“Now I’m the one feeling guilty,” Graham says. “You said Mariam isn’t who she said she is. I should have listened. Taken additional security measures.”
I shrug. “There was no way to know. And the truth is, we still don’t.”
Fifteen minutes later, Graham pulls into the parking lot of the emergency room. We head immediately inside the crowded lobby that smells like antiseptic and hurry to find someone in charge.
A matronly looking woman sits behind a large desk.
“I am looking for an American,” I say in French to the woman. “Lizzie Staten. She was brought in by ambulance.”
The woman hesitates, then checks her clipboard. “Box six. But only one of you can see her.”
“You go,” Graham says. “I’ll see if I can get updates on the guards.”
I nod, already moving.
The treatment bays are curtained-off sections that line the pale green walls. The florescent light is too bright and the surroundings too loud, but I quickly find Lizzie. She’s lying onher side with an IV taped to her hand, covered with a thin blanket and hooked up to a monitor. Thankfully, she’s awake. And alive.
She turns her head slowly as I approach. “If you’re here to tell me this wasn’t my fault, don’t.”
“No one is thinking about whose fault this was right now,” I say, pulling the curtain shut behind me. “I’m here to find out what happened and figure out what we need to do next.”
“But it’s my job. Cameras don’t just go down like that, and now Mariam is gone.”
“Lizzie, listen to me. I don’t need you spiraling over what’s already happened. I need you sharp for what’s about to come next. So right now your job is to get better. My job is to find Mariam.”
Lizzie nods, but I can tell she’s still not convinced.
“What are the doctors saying?” I ask.
She scoots up on the bed so she’s sitting against the pillow. “I was injected with some kind of sedative. They told me it should flush out of my body over the next couple hours with no aftereffects, but both of the guards were stabbed. One of them went straight into surgery.”
“Start at the beginning and tell me what happened,” I say.
“I went to my apartment to get a couple hours of sleep, but instead I ended up working. At one point, I decided to check the camera feeds, and discovered they were offline.” Lizzie wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, then looks away. “I know I should have called for backup, but honestly, I thought it was just a glitch.”
