“Could it be Secret Service?” Omar asked, thinking about Bradford Hampton and his detail.
“I doubt it. But out of curiosity, why?”
“Long story, and I think for now you’d rather not know it.”
“Remember, I’m the company attorney. That’s why I’m the one calling. This conversation is privileged. You can tell me.”
“Yeah, but attorney-client privilege doesn’t mean jack if the call’s being monitored.”
“Is it? Being monitored, I mean.”
“I don’t know, Ry. You tell me.”
“I’ll find out,” Ryan promised. Omar knew his best friend would do it. He’d burn through favors and contacts to get the answer.
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Remember. Stay put. Avoid Marseille no matter what happens. Got it?”
“Got it.”
As Omar ended the call, he heard his sister yelling in the background, “Love you, cou-cou!” This was clearly directed toward Marielle.
He ended the call and looked at Marielle and Hanna, both standing in the doorway watching him.
“Did you catch any of that?” he asked.
“Enough of it,” Marielle said. “The safe house is compromised. We stay here.”
“Your government is hunting us,” Hanna added flatly.
They looked at each other for a long moment, and a weight settled over the room. They were isolated, hunted, and running out of options.
Finally, Omar broke the silence. “Anybody want to play cards?”
Twelve
After endless hands of cards and endless pots of tea, Hanna returned from the kitchen with a plate of cold roasted chicken and sliced saucisson that Luc had packed for them. They all picked at it, listlessly. The food was good, better than good, but none of them had much appetite.
Suddenly, Hanna squared her shoulders. “I’ll tell you what I was going to give your CIA.”
Marielle searched her face closely. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I was going to trade it for my freedom, and it seems I have that.”
Omar, always fair, always honest, stopped her. “You were going to trade it for your freedom and your safety. We’ll do everything we can, Hanna. But we can’t guarantee your safety. We can’t even guarantee our own.”
She smiled a real smile, not the brittle, careful one she’d worn on the yacht. “I trust you. After everything that’s happened, of course I trust you.” She laughed, the sound wry and a little broken. “Do you know how long it’s been since I trusted someone?”
Marielle leaned in, ready to finally learn what Hanna knew. Then she had a thought. “Should we record this?”
The unspoken reason hung in the air: In case something happens to us.
Omar nodded. “Probably. I have a recorder in my bag. Hang on.”
He was halfway to the bedroom when someone began hammering at the door.
Marielle’s heart hammered in return. Beside her, Hanna whimpered softly.