They held each other for a moment longer than was probably appropriate for a public bar in Paris. Then Marielle pulled back, her hands still on his arms, and looked him over. “You look terrible.”
“You look beautiful.”
She laughed. “Liar.”
But she did.
Olivia had launched herself at Trent with equal fervor. Jake stood awkwardly until both women were done with their respective greetings, then got brief, fierce hugs of his own.
“Where’s Hanna?” Omar asked.
“Safe,” Marielle said. “She’s under the protection of Interpol’s Financial Crime and Anti-Corruption Centre.”
Jake raised an eyebrow. “You went to Interpol?”
“Not now,” Olivia warned their boss.
He pressed his lips together.
They sat around a table in the middle of the room and ordered drinks. Then for a long moment, they just looked at each other.
“So,” Trent said finally. “The safe house was a setup.”
“The cottage was compromised too,” Olivia countered. “We had about ten minutes’ warning before US commandos showed up.”
They traded stories. Trent recounted the empty apartment, the ambush team in the park, and the roof extraction. Marielle used exaggerated hand gestures to describe Madame Laugier and her truck, the checkpoint, and the drive to Lyon.
“We got Hanna’s statement on record,” Olivia said. “Before we handed her over to Interpol. You need to hear it.”
“Here?” Omar asked.
“It’s short,” Marielle promised.
Jake looked around. “Nobody’s paying any attention to us. Do it.”
They bent their heads over the table as Marielle pulled out a small recorder and hit play.
Hanna’s voice, thin but clear: The business dealings are a cover. Tunisian oligarchs paying the Vice President to look the other way while they overthrow their government. In exchange, they’re setting him up financially and helping him plan to remove the President of the United States.
Marielle pressed the stop button. Omar looked around the table. Jake was silent, Trent pale.
Jake recovered first. “Sonofa?—”
“Yeah,” Olivia said.
Olivia’s phone buzzed, and Omar saw Ryan’s name on the screen.
“Ryan has your burner number?” he said with a frown.
“New burner. I ditched the other one after Trent sent that message.”
She answered. “You’re on speaker. The gang’s all here. Tell us some good news.”
Ryan’s voice was tight. “I found the leak. It’s McCloud.”
The world tilted.
“Cal?” Omar couldn’t process it. “Are you sure?”