Page 174 of Secrets Beneath the Waves
Graham shakes his head. “Unfortunately, no.”
I’m staring at a smudge of dirt on the wall while my mind races from one question to the next, highlighting holes in the information we have and organizing in mental boxes what I needto ask Mariam. It’s how my mind works.Organized cluttermy mom used to call it.
“What are you thinking?” Graham asks, turning to me.
“As I’ve been playing all the scenarios in my mind, I can’t help but wonder if it’s possible that this has nothing to do with Oumar. Maybe instead it’s some kind of vendetta against Mariam’s father?”
“I suppose it’s possible,” Graham says, “but if that was true, why take Oumar? Why not take Mariam?”
“That’s a valid point, and one I don’t have an answer to.”
I try to swallow my frustration, realizing I simply don’t have enough information to even make an educated guess. I glance down the hall where Mariam is and exhale slowly, already shifting into operational mode.
That’s all about to change.
CHAPTER
FIVE
I stepinto the small kitchen, open the fridge, then stand there for a long moment before pulling out a Perrier. Mariam isn’t the only one who was shaken by what happened tonight, though my worry comes from knowing it’s possible that not only has my asset’s cover been blown, but mine could be as well. Something that has to be avoided at all costs.
And like the job of a surgeon, there is no room for error.
With new or potential assets, there is a significant vetting process where we often spend large chunks of time asking questions. Something we’d gone through with Oumar months ago. He mentioned Mariam a number of times, but insisted he didn’t want her involved. Which puts me at a disadvantage in a situation like this. Just because Mariam knows Oumar doesn’t mean I can trust her.
I take a sip of my fizzy water, then glance down the hall at the closed bathroom door. At the moment I have little if any information to be able to prove that the woman we brought here is who she said she is, but I do have an advantage in play. My experience in vetting and interviewing people has strengthened my ability to spot red flags and potential lies. I can question a person without them even knowing they’re being interrogated.
The truth is, I spend the majority of my time preparing for meetings, taking notes during the interviews, and then writing up detailed reports on those meetings. And the notes aren’t simply the content of the conversation. They include deeper layers of my assessment: body language, tone, and even my own personal impressions of not just what was said, but how it was communicated. Working on establishing trust with potential and even current assets takes time, and there are never any guarantees that the resources put into a potential asset will pay off. But this is my job.
Oumar was one of the sources I spent months working with and, up until now, thanks to the intel he has been able to pass on to us, it has paid off. He’s resourceful, and because of his background, motivated to help us. He’s given me every reason to trust him, but I can never assume anything, because every bit of information he’s given us has come with a risk. There’s always the risk of a leak or something crucial missed that could bring the house of cards tumbling down.
I can’t help but wonder if that’s what we’re dealing with now.
Five minutes later, Mariam walks into the dining room, looking calmer than when we first arrived.
“Sorry I took so long,” she says, sitting across from me at the small, round table.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“A little better, but honestly. . .I’m scared.”
“That’s understandable. Would you like something to eat or drink?” I ask.
“Just some water’s fine.”
I get up and grab another Perrier out of the fridge and set it on the table. “I realize how hard this is, but I do need to ask you some questions. The more I know, the better the odds are that we can find Oumar.”
She bites the edge of her lip. “Do you think it’s possible?”
“I do.”
“Then whatever you need to know. I just need you to find him. If anything happens to Oumar . .”
I sit back down across from her with a small notebook and pen so I can take notes of our conversation. “Why don’t we start by you telling me about what happened. How did you find out Oumar was missing?”
“I. . .I had gone out to do some shopping. Oumar’s birthday is coming up, and I wanted to get him something special. We were supposed to meet for lunch.”
She stares at her unopened water, her jaw tense and her lips pressed together.
