Page 171 of Secrets Beneath the Waves
“What’s going on?” Mariam whispers.
I can hear the panic in her voice and see the doubt in her eyes as we head toward the entrance. Past the line of pews, glass windows, and golden statues glowing beneath overhead lights. It’s all I can do to not only keep my steps slow and even, but not look back.
“I think you were followed here, and I don’t want to take any chances.”
“The man in black? Is that who you’re talking about?”
I nod. “I need to get you somewhere safe.”
My arm is looped around hers as I guide her forward, but she’s still shaking. I know she’s questioning everything that’s going on. She has no reason to trust me beyond Oumar’s word, but if we want to get her safely out of here, she’s going to have to do what I say.
Once we’re outside, I start heading down the busy street in the direction Graham instructed me, keeping my eyes open for the man who’d been inside, or anyone else who looks out of place. As far as I can tell, we’re not being followed, but I can’t be sure. Tourists and locals pass us on the sidewalk. Cars race by on the street. Darkness has settled in by now, making it easy for someone who doesn’t want to be seen to stay hidden in the shadows.
“Do you see him?” she asks.
“No, but that doesn’t mean he’s not nearby.”
A minute later, I see Graham’s car, and we quickly slip into the back seat.
“Who are you?” She’s crying now, and her voice is barely above a whisper. “You have to be more than just business acquaintances of Oumar.”
“I help him mainly with translations,” I say, as Graham pulls into traffic. “My partner, our driver, works with security details for companies.”
It was all at least partially true.
“Is that why he thought you could help me? Because you deal with security issues?” Mariam asks.
“Probably,” I say. “I have questions. Has he seemed stressed lately? Worried his life is in danger?”
Something had to have happened for Oumar to have given her my number.
“If he was, he didn’t tell me. He’s been busy lately. Distracted. But why kidnap him for ransom?” She stares out the window as we drive past cafés and stores, her foot tapping nervously against the floorboard. “Where are we going?”
“We need to take you somewhere safe, until we can figure out what’s going on.”
“I don’t even know you.”
The panic in her voice is back.
“You trust Oumar?” I ask her.
She nods.
“He trusts us. Let us help you. That’s what he wanted us to do. That’s why he gave you my number.”
“Okay,” she finally answers.
I can feel the darkness pressing in around us as Graham speeds down the wide, tree-lined avenue. A motorcycle darts around us, and someone’s horn blasts, but my mind is focused on the situation. I’m not sure what’s going on, and I hate being at a disadvantage. I have no idea who that was at the church, who might have taken Oumar, or even why they would want to take him. I have plenty of questions, and I’m hoping Mariam will be able to give me answers.
“We’re being followed,” Graham says, glancing in the rearview mirror.
“How is that possible?” I look behind us. “Are you sure?”
“A silver Peugeot. Two cars back. The left headlight is brighter.”
I spot the car weaving in traffic behind us as we head toward the Arc de Triomphe. I clutch the edge of the seat as Graham tries to shake the other car. Narrow streets and heavy traffic are reasons most people tend to prefer riding the metro to driving, and being followed only adds to the chaos.
“What do they want?” Marion asks.
