Page 189 of Secrets Beneath the Waves
Lizzie lets out a sharp breath. I look up at the monitor next to her. Her heart rate is over a hundred beats a minute, though her blood pressure looks normal.
“It’s okay,” I say. “Take your time.”
“When I got to the safe house, the door was open. I found the guards in the living room. One was unconscious, and the other one was bleeding heavily. Thankfully, both were alive.”
“And Mariam?” I ask.
“I don’t know what happened to her. I don’t know if she escaped, or if someone helped her escape, or if she was taken.” Her hand goes to the back of her neck. “I didn’t hear anything. I remember seeing flashes of movement, felt something sharp, and then everything went black. That’s the last thing I remember.”
“Do they know what you were injected with?”
Lizzie shakes her head. “Just that whatever it was—they’re still testing my blood—worked fast.”
Nothing makes sense. No classified files were left at the safe house. No servers. Nothing that could be copied or transmitted. On paper, the safe house was clean. Which means there are only two explanations for the incident. Either Mariam took out Lizzie and the guards in order to escape, or someone knew who we were holding inside and took her. I replay the security protocols in my head, checking for cracks, because this kind of access doesn’t happen without inside help.
“There’s something else,” Lizzie says, interrupting my thoughts. “Before I returned to the safe house this morning, I was able to ID the man who put a tracker on Graham at the church.”
“That’s great,” I say. “Who is he?”
“Ibrahim Diallo. He forty-two years old, and has dual citizenship with both Mali and Algeria. I’ll make sure the information is sent to you.”
“Okay,” I say. “What else?”
“From the Intel that we have, he has ties to a number of rogue groups. The latest information has him working for theKoumana Syndicate as a logistics coordinator, but basically he’s an enforcer. The muscle that gets things done.”
I shiver, pulled back for a moment to his knife pressed against my throat. His hot breath on my face.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “It’s nothing.”
“He’s been under the radar for several years, “ she continues, “but has suspected involvement in the 2018 Timbuktu warehouse bombing. He’s also been under investigation by Interpol for smuggling small arms and munitions across borders into Libya. Chatter has it that he’s been authorized to ‘clean house.’”
My phone beeps, and I glance at it. “Hawke is here and wants an update. I’ll go talk to him, but I’ll be back to check on you.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
I head through the waiting room then outside to a gush of cold wind. Hawke and Graham have found a semi-private place to talk away from the sliding glass doors of the ER and the constant stream of people and hospital personnel. A paramedic smokes on the other side of the entrance, his back to us. A police car idles nearby. Nobody’s looking at me—but I can’t help but feel as if I’m being watched.
Hawke’s wearing his typical suit, but without a tie, and looks anything but happy. “Were you able to pull out any more details from Lizzie?” he asks me.
“Just that she went to the safe house after losing the camera feeds and found both of the guards down. Before she could make any calls, she was ambushed as well.”
“And Mariam?” Hawke presses. “Does Lizzie know what happened to her?”
“She didn’t see anything, so at this point, there’s no way to know if she left on her own or if someone took her.”
Hawke’s frown deepens. “Do you still believe she’s an imposter?”
I nod. “I do. Even more so now.”
“I’ve made sure we have eyes on the usual exit points—airports, rail, borders,” Hawke says, “ but I’ve got a feeling she knows how to avoid detection.”
“Lizzie did manage to ID the man at the church who put a tracker on him,” I say.
“Good. I was just briefed about your encounter with him. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I glance at Graham as a siren wails nearby. “And we might have one more possible lead.”
