What should he say?
AV-1. The initials and the number. Right now, it was all he had. “AV-1, please.”
“Arlington, Virginia. One. I’ll connect you now.”
Arlington, Virginia. One. So it was a city, not someone’s initials. What does “one” stand for? He guessed it was the top official in that office.
“What did they say?” Danielle asked.
“She’s connecting me with someone in Arlington, Virginia.”
“Arlington, Virginia? What the hell does that mean?”
A full minute passed, and no one came on the line, which made Patrick wonder whether they were tracing the call. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
Finally, there was a click on the other end, and a man spoke through a device that masked his voice. “Thank heavens you’re alive. Are you safe?”
“Yes… I’m safe.”
“Where in Paris are you?”
Patrick wasn’t ready to divulge that information yet. First, he had some questions of his own. “Who am I talking to?”
There was a long pause on the other end, so long it made Patrick wonder whether the call had somehow become disconnected. Finally, the man said, “You know who this is. Look, we need to come up with a plan to extract you as soon as possible. Give me your current location.”
“You didn’t answer my question. But since I’m a nice guy, I’ll give you another chance.”
“Surely, you’re not serious.” Despite being electronically altered, the man’s voice betrayed a hint of frustration.
“Oh, I’m quite serious.”
At this point, Patrick held the upper hand. If the man was a legitimate colleague, he would answer the question. If he refused, Patrick would hang up.
“Listen to me. These people have done something to damage your memory. Trust me, if they find you again, they’ll do much worse.”
“I’ll admit you’re right about my memory. But how do I know you’re not one of them?”
The man covered the phone, and there were muffled voices in the background. Patrick guessed they were discussing how to proceed. A few seconds later, the man came back on. “Please pay close attention. I’m only going to say this once. You were operating under an alias in Grenoble, France. You sent an encrypted message indicating you were in some sort of trouble. That was the last transmission we received.”
Grenoble. Immediately, a series of images flashed through Patrick’s mind. A city along a river, framed by snow-capped mountains. The architecture was distinctly European, with cathedral spires and tightly packed buildings lining cobblestone streets. He remembered being in a cable car that ran up one of the mountains. He was following someone, although he couldn’t remember who.
So the man was telling the truth. Patrick had been in Grenoble. Did that mean he could trust the man on the other end? Not necessarily. Whoever he’d been following would have the same information.
It was time to probe deeper and find out what else the man knew. “What’s my name?”
“I can’t tell you. Your phone isn’t secure. Look, we don’t have time—”
“In other words, you don’t really know who I am. Maybe I’ll hang up and give you time to think it over.” Patrick moved a finger toward the phone.
“No,” the man blurted out. “Don’t hang up. I’ll tell you.”
Patrick noted the time. He needed to speed things up. “You have five seconds.”
“Please, don’t make me—”
“One.”
“The people who are after you could be listening.”
“Two.”
“All right. All right.”
The man drew in a deep breath.
“Your name is Zane.”
Chapter Ten
He’s lying.
Patrick’s memory might be shot, but the one thing he was certain of was his name. It was the first thing he’d remembered, and he’d never doubted its veracity. Then again, he had to admit the name Zane rang a bell. There was a connection of some kind. It was someone he was close to, a colleague or a friend.
“If you don’t even know who I am, then it’s time for me to end this call.”
“You honestly don’t recognize your own name?” The man seemed genuinely shocked.
“I do recognize my name, but there’s one problem: that’s not it.”
“I’ve known you for years, Zane. I recognize your voice. If you think you’re someone else, it’s because they’ve filled you with drugs.”
Patrick looked toward the front. A well-dressed man and woman had just entered the brasserie. As the woman spoke to the hostess, the man’s eyes swept the space. Just to be safe, Patrick slid farther back into the booth, taking himself out of the man’s line of sight.
“Zane, are you there?” the man asked.
“You’re right, I was drugged. But some pieces of my long-term memory survived. One of those pieces was my name.”
The host led the couple to a booth on the other side of the room. As they sat down, the man’s eyes continued to take in their surroundings. Patrick tensed, unsure whether he should pay more attention to them or to the call.
“I want to ask you something,” the man said.
“By all means,” Patrick said, his eyes on the couple across the way.
“What do you think your name is?”
Patrick hesitated. Should he reveal what he knew? At this point, he didn’t see how giving him his first name could hurt. “My name is Patrick.”
“Thank heavens,” the man said with relief. “You do remember.”
Patrick frowned. The man had just told him his name was Zane. It was obvious he was playing a game of manipulation. “That’s not what you told me a few seconds ago.”
“Patrick is your first name, but you’ve always gone by your middle name.”
“Patrick Zane?”
“Yes.”
Patrick repeated the two names under his breath. Strangely, they did seem to go together. Was it possible the man was telling the truth?
Before Patrick could answer, there was a loud click on the line. They were tracing the call, but he needed to ask one more thing before hanging up. “What is my last name?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Of course you can.”
“This isn’t a secure line. Surely you know that by now. I’ve already said too much, and the only reason I said what I did is to save your life.”
Patrick pushed harder. “I need a name or I’m hanging up.”
“This is a waste of time. We need to discuss how we’re going to bring you in.”
There was something about the words bring you in that was disturbing. A Freudian slip? If this was a puzzle, a number of pieces were still missing.
Two men entered the brasserie. They wore black leather coats that were similar to the ones worn by the men who had chased them at Luxembourg. Patrick frowned at the sight. A total of four people had arrived in the last two minutes, and they’d all arrived after he’d placed the call.
“Zane, I have to get off the call for your own sake. I’m going to direct you to one of our safe houses on the outskirts of Paris. We’ll send a team to pick you up there tomorrow at midnight.”
Even if it was a genuine offer, the delay seemed odd. “Why not tonight?”
“Because our closest team is in Serbia, and they need time to get there and make sure the site hasn’t been compromised. Keep the phone but remove the battery. Use it only in case of an emergency.”
Taking an address certainly couldn’t hurt. At this point, any piece of information might prove helpful. “Go ahead.”
The man gave him an address, which Patrick typed into a notepad app on the phone.