Page 202 of Secrets Beneath the Waves

“A blanket and some food and water,” I say, heading to where Oumar is now sitting on a stack of wooden pallets.

Rourke hesitates, then orders one of his men to fetch the items from the vehicles. I nod my thanks to Graham, who heads outside with him. We’re still treading on dangerous ground, and I’m grateful he’s here.

I sit down next to Oumar on the makeshift bench. He’s shaking from the cold, and there are cuts on his face and hands and dark circles under his eyes.

“How are you?” I ask.

“Alive.” His expression is glassy as he looks at me. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“It took us some time to find you, but we did,” I say, acknowledging Rourke with a glance. “He’s the one who located you.”

“You found my message then,” Oumar says.

I nod as Graham returns with a blanket, a water bottle, and his laptop.

Oumar wraps the offered blanket around himself, still shivering, then takes a packet of nuts and dried fruit and a dark chocolate bar from Rourke’s man.

“I thought you were hiring me to make you disappear, not need to be rescued,” Rourke says.

“That’s what I thought as well,” Oumar turns to me. “I should have come to you sooner—I know that now—but I was scared and needed a back-up plan.”

“Forget that for now.” I stand up to address Rourke. “I need you and your men to watch the perimeter while I do the debriefing. This site won’t be safe indefinitely, and we can’t risk being here if and when the authorities arrive.”

Rourke glances at the door. “I have a right to hear what he knows.”

I frown. “I’ll put in a request with Chapel that you receive a full debrief once we’re back in Paris, as well as make sure he knows you’ve been cooperative.”

While I don’t have all the details on what Hawke is holding over Rourke, my veiled threat works. A moment later he ushers his men—along with Ibrahim—outside.

I glance around the barn that offers some shelter even though it’s drafty and reeks of old hay and engine grease. It’s not the ideal place for an interview, but I’ve had to work in far worse locations. I sit back down next to Oumar as Graham clears off a workbench and quickly sets up his laptop and recorder for the audio.

“I know you’re exhausted,” I begin, “and you’re going to have a lot to process over the coming days and weeks, but we need your help right now. We know about the arms deal being organized, and we need to know details about when and where it is going to happen.”

Oumar nods. “It must be stopped.”

“Was Ibrahim telling the truth about these men?” Graham asks, looking at the bodies scattered across the floor.

“Yes. They are Russians, working for Ivan Kozlov. They are the ones fighting General Keïtafor control of the Sahel.”

“So our theory was right,” I say, frowning at the familiar name of the arms dealer. “And now there’s another player trying to push Kozlov and the General out.”

Oumar nods as he takes a sip of water, then screws the cap back on. “I’ll tell you everything, but first I need to know what he meant about Mariam.”

I glance at Graham, not knowing what to say.

I close my eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry, but we believe she was taken as well.”

“By her?” he asks, jetting his chin toward the dead woman.

I nod. “They sent her to us, posing as Mariam. She had information that only Mariam would have had.”

“Trying to use Mariam to get to me.” Oumar looks away, clearly trying to process everything. “I tried so hard to keepMariam out of this. Somehow I thought I could do the right thingandprotect her at the same time. I should’ve been there to stop them.”

“You did everything you could,” I say.

“I could have come to you sooner.”

I wait a moment, giving him time to process, but time to grieve will have to come later.