Page 185 of Secrets Beneath the Waves

Why didn’t you tell me you were in trouble?

My foot slips on the wet pavement, but I manage to catch my balance and keep running. The man is still a good twenty yards ahead of me. Ten yards ahead of Graham. A woman walks out of an apartment building and I step aside, barely avoiding colliding into her, before continuing after them.

I sprint around the corner—and freeze.

Graham is standing on the sidewalk, chest rising, eyes scanning the empty street ahead. The road forks, one side curling left into the shadow, the other sloping right toward traffic.

We’ve lost him.

“You go that way,” Graham calls out, as he heads right.

I obey immediately, running away from the traffic and down a narrow alley that leads to a courtyard. My footsteps echo against the pavement as I search the surrounding treelined path for movement. After another dozen yards I pause, then take a right, through a narrow side street that runs along the river. I turn the corner, around another building, and suddenly he’s there in front of me. But before I can react, he grabs me, presses a knife against my throat, and shoves me against the brick wall. A cat screeches nearby and a car backfires in the distance—but his breath in my ear quickly drowns out everything else. Andall I can feel is the cold blade of the knife against my neck. I underestimated the man’s blend of street toughness and obvious military training.

A second later, Graham appears.

“Let her go. . .” he says, his hands in the air.

My assailant forces me across the street to where the river runs parallel. “Stay back.”

“Who are you?” Graham asks. “Why did you break into Oumar’s apartment?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“It’s pretty clear we’re looking for the same person,” I say, trying to keep my breathing even as I scramble for a way to deescalate the situation. “How do you know Oumar?”

“You have no idea what you’re getting involved in,” he says, ignoring my question while still pressing the knife against my throat. “This doesn’t involve you, and if you were smart, you’d stay out of it.”

“All we want are answers,” Graham says, taking a step forward. “Put the knife down, and we can talk.”

“I said, stay back?—”

“We saw you at the church,” Graham continues. “We know you put a tracker on me and that you’re looking for Oumar. Maybe we can help.”

“You have no idea what I need.” He shakes his head. “Or who you’re messing with.”

“Actually, we do,” I say, praying I’m on the right track. “We know Oumar’s a valuable asset. He connects things. Connects people. He knows how to get things done no one else can. But if he’s gone, everything comes to a standstill, which is why you need him. Am I right?”

He hesitates before answering, convincing me I’m on the right path. “All you need to know is that the people I work forwill go to any lengths to find him. And anyone who tries to get in the way?—”

“What about Mariam?” I ask, still pressing for answers while trying to keep the fear out of my voice. “I know she’s looking for him too. Are you working together?”

“Tell Langley to stay out of this,” the man says, leaning against the railing behind us. “This might not be Kidal, but we will still win.”

The man shoves me forward against the pavement then jumps over the barrier into the water. My hands hit the pavement, but I manage to not completely fall. Graham is immediately beside me.

“Go after him!” I shout.

“It’s too late. We need to get out of here.”

I race to look over the railing and see the man bobbing in the river below us. I hear the sirens and realize for the first time that a small crowd has started forming. I know Graham’s right, but I’m also angry that I didn’t get any information out of him.

Graham grabs my hand, and we slip past the crowd, moments before the police arrive. I struggle to keep up as he leads me through the narrow streets back toward his car, and I realize that the encounter has shaken me more than I want to admit.

By the time we get to the car, my whole body is shaking. My hand goes automatically to the scar on my side as I slide into the passenger seat. A part of me is reacting as if what happened to William is happening all over again—the fight, the water, the sirens. It’s all jammed together in my head, impossible to untangle.

Graham looks at me, concern in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”