Page 169 of Secrets Beneath the Waves

“The less she knows, the better,” he says.

“Exactly, but he gave her my number.”

“Your cover story with Oumar is secure?”

“Yes.”

“Then how do you want to do this?”

I hesitate at his question. William would have already presented me with a detailed security plan for the situation, but just because I don’t know Graham well—or because he does things different—doesn’t mean I can’t trust him. His record is impeccable, and I have no reason to believe he can’t handle things.

“Hawke wants to keep everything low-profile,” I say, “which means just you and me going in. We’ll try to get her to a safe house, if necessary, but I’m also going to have to verify she actually is who she says she is.”

“Agreed. I’ll meet you at the church.”

I glance at the clock as I hang up, calculating how much time I have to change my appearance. The subtle disguise is an additional cover and layer of safety for me. It doesn’t take long for me to pop in a set of green contacts and grab a pair of oversized nonprescription glasses. I typically wear my long hair down, but today I pull it up and secure it in a simple bun at the base of my neck. Lastly, I put together an outfit different from my normal wardrobe. A skirt and blouse with comfy ankle boots and a long brown coat will ensure I fit in, and yet it looks nothing like my normal attire. My last addition is an earpiece so Graham and I can communicate.

I glance in the mirror. I’ve now become the person Oumar knows. The person he would have described to his girlfriend. I head to the church ten minutes later, still not comfortable with the meeting place. At least it’s public, but having Mariam choose the meet point means I’m not in control, and I always prefer to make those decisions.

It’s dark as I head out, and my senses are on high alert in case this is a setup. The metro is only a few blocks away, and by the time I step onto the car, I’ve convinced myself no one has followed me. But it’s impossible to shake my unease. I study the passengers around me while letting my mind go over my recent conversations with Oumar, wondering if I’d somehow missed something.

When working with an asset, one of the most important things is building a bond. The more I get to know them, the more they trust me, and the more information I’m able to collect. But the process is never without concern. There is often a lot of fear involved in stepping out of comfort zones, and they are taking as much of a risk as I am. My goal with Oumar has always been straightforward. The intelligence I’m gathering from him traces the flow of weapons through a North African war zone withthreats that reach far beyond the Mediterranean. Oumar has spent years navigating this murky underworld of international arms activity and has been gathering information on where they are being trafficked, who is smuggling them, and the locations of hidden arms caches and potential offshore accounts in order to expose these operations.

When I first met him, he was more interested in trading secrets for protection and saving himself—which is an understandable goal. But over the past few months, I’ve noticed that his motivations have shifted and he’s changed his views on helping to dismantle the illicit arms trade. He’s lost family members to the escalating violence where he’s from. I made it clear from the beginning that the deeper he went—the more he exposed what’s happening—the greater the possibility he could become a target. And now I’m afraid that’s exactly what has happened.

I arrive at the church a few minutes early, giving me time to survey my surroundings. Soft organ music drifts through the majestic structure—ancient, slow, and solemn. A few parishioners are sitting on the pews and praying. Several groups of tourists are carrying backpacks and wandering through the cathedral, admiring the stained-glass windows and ornate statues. I walk past the lit candles near the entrance and slow my steps, not wanting to look rushed, while searching for anyone who might have followed me here. A woman with two young children is lighting a candle, and an older couple talk in hushed tones about something.

Graham walks by me, giving nothing but a cursory look at the candles where I’m standing, then keeps walking.

“You good?” I hear him ask through my earpiece.

“Affirmative.”

Just like I’m doing, Graham is checking out the cathedral, making sure we don’t miss anything. At this point, I have no ideawhat Oumar told Mariam, or if she even knows he was working with the CIA, but I’m about to find out.

I continue walking toward the front of the church and find Mariam where she told me to meet her, sitting on one of the front pews and wearing a dark blue coat. I take my time to get there, still surveying the light crowd of people for anyone who might look familiar or anyone who seems out of place. I glance up at the large stained-glass window above the altar as the last light of the day filters through, leaving muted shadows on the floor. In another situation, I would have taken a moment to soak in the beauty of my surroundings. There’s always something moving about being in a house of worship.

But instead, a wave of anxiety sets in.

The setup seems all too familiar, and the recent memories of what happened to William adds to my uneasiness. Without thinking, I touch the raised scar on my side.

I glance over to where I’d last seen Graham, then move to sit down next to Mariam.

“Thank you for coming,” she says.

I send up a prayer on our behalf and nod.

“Oumar told me about you. Told me if anything ever happened to him, that I should call you. He said the number was for emergencies only. He never told me who you were, just that if I was ever in trouble I should go to you for help. He told me you have connections to the State Department.”

Her foot taps against the stone floor of the church, and her lip quivers as she tries to continue speaking.

“It’s okay,” I say. “Just take a deep breath and tell me why we’re here.”

“They have Oumar,” she whispers.

“Who’sthey?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I. . . I don’t know who to trust. I don’t even know if I should be here right now talking to you.”