“Think about it. What happens when a computer crashes?”
Patrick shrugged. “You take it to a computer repair center?”
“No, silly.” Danielle elbowed him playfully. “What would you do in order to fix it?”
“I have no idea. I guess I wasn’t a computer guy in my past life.”
“You put in a recovery disk, something meant to bring back all the data that was there before. In other words, you may have been told to memorize the words in the event something happened.”
He frowned, apparently not convinced she was right.
She continued, “Even if they weren’t programmed for that specific purpose, they still might be helpful.”
“But only if we can figure out what they mean.”
The train slowed again. Danielle glanced out the window and saw Luxembourg painted at regular intervals on the walls.
She looked at Patrick as the train came to a stop. “You’re right. We do need to know what they mean.” She grabbed a rail and pulled herself up as the doors opened. “And I know just how to figure that out.”
Chapter Six
They emerged onto a busy Boulevard Saint-Michel. In sharp contrast to the quiet suburbs, the sidewalks of Paris were a moving river of humanity. The workday had come to a close, so Patrick guessed some were headed home and others were headed to the nearest café.
He wasn’t quite sure if the crowds were a help or a hindrance. On the one hand, it was easier to blend in, even disappear if needed. On the other hand, the sheer number of people made it difficult to filter out those who might be trouble.
Danielle came to a halt, her brows pinched tightly together. As she appeared to think about which direction to take, Patrick glanced across the street. Beyond a long wrought-iron fence, trees marked the eastern boundary of the Luxembourg Palace and Gardens. A cool autumn breeze shook the foliage, sending a cascade of leaves into the air. He was suddenly filled with a sense of familiarity. He’d been here before, perhaps at this very spot.
Danielle pointed north. “Let’s go this way.”
Most people were headed in that direction, so it was hard to argue with her choice. A block later, she slowed as they approached a traffic circle where five streets converged.
“Do you know where you’re going?” Patrick asked. It was more an offer of assistance than a question.
“I’m looking for a place…” She scanned the storefronts as they walked around the right side of the circle.
“Maybe I can help you. What kind of place are you looking for?”
“There should be one here somewhere…”
She seemed determined to figure it out on her own, so Patrick used the time to look for any signs that they’d been followed. Throughout their journey from Maisons-Laffitte, he’d examined the people around them, looking for an odd or lingering glance, anything that conveyed watchful intent.
“There!” Danielle pointed directly ahead.
They walked briskly to the other side of the traffic circle, dodging two cars and a motor scooter. The man on the scooter cursed in French and lifted his middle finger. Danielle ignored him as she continued toward the business directly ahead. Patrick noted the name printed across a red awning:
Le Cyber Café — Crepes, Wine, Internet & Games — 25 PCs.
Of course. She was going to use the Internet to search for Mazarine. It would be like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack, but at this point, it was probably their best chance of getting more information.
As they drew near, Patrick noticed the establishment had two entrances, one on the left for the wine bar and one on the right for the cyber café. They chose the café entrance, and Patrick was surprised at how crowded it was when they stepped inside. He guessed three quarters of the stations were already in use. He’d assumed business would be slow since most people carried mobile devices now.
As they walked toward the counter, Patrick also noticed a short hallway connecting the wine bar and the café, allowing those using the computers to cross over and purchase wine and crepes. He liked having access to more than one exit, so he filed the information away for future reference.
“Didn’t you say you spoke French?” Danielle asked.
“To some degree, yes.”
“I’ll let you handle it, then. Tell him we need to rent a PC for thirty minutes.”
Patrick approached the attendant, a thin man with thick glasses and a sallow face. He looked as though he’d rather be anywhere besides sitting behind that counter.
Patrick pulled out the clip of euros. “Trente minutes, s’il vous plait.”
The man looked up, clearly irritated that he’d been pulled from whatever was displayed on his iPhone. “Dix euros.”
“C’est cher.” That’s expensive.
The man glowered at Patrick. “Vous voulez? Oui ou non?” You want it or not?
Patrick shook his head in exasperation and slapped the note in the man’s hand.
The attendant used a chewed-up pencil to scribble a number and password on a yellow sticky then slid it across the counter. “Vous êtes numéro vingt-huit.” Twenty-eight.
Thankfully, their station was located at the rear of the café. Danielle sat down immediately and powered up the PC. Patrick admired his fellow escapee’s quiet resolve. Despite all they’d been through, she was holding up extremely well. Not only had their journey been physically taxing, but there was the massive load of mental stress as well. Other than her name, Danielle knew very little about herself. That had to weigh on her, and yet she showed no signs of fear or regret.
As Patrick pulled over a chair, a movement drew his eyes to the front. An Asian woman entered and approached the counter. He frowned. There was something about her appearance that looked familiar. The way she walked, the lack of makeup, and the perfectly straight hair pulled back in a ponytail.
Where had he seen her?
Then he remembered. She’d walked next to them as they came out of the Métro. Her eyes had flitted briefly in his direction. Most wouldn’t have noticed the glance, but to him it had been obvious. Whether or not it had been meaningful was hard to say. Maybe she had found him attractive, or maybe he and Danielle had looked out of place. Whatever the reason, he was certain the look had been deliberate. And now that same woman had just walked into the café. Was it a coincidence? Probably. After all, most of the people who came out of the Métro had traveled in this direction. A gray backpack was slung over her shoulder, so she was probably a student in search of a PC.
He would keep his eye on her nonetheless.
“Okay, how do you spell that word?” Danielle asked after opening the browser.
“Mazarine?”
She nodded.
“Mazarine. M-a-z-a-r-i-n-e.”
She pecked out the letters as he spoke. Patrick noticed how gracefully her fingers glided over the keys, like someone who was used to typing for hours. Maybe she was a journalist or a writer. Who knew, maybe she was a concert pianist.
“Here we go.” She hit the enter key.
Surprisingly, the Google search produced nearly three million results. The first page was sprinkled with the names of businesses and products. Patrick bit his lower lip in frustration. It would take hours to go through all the links.
“Good grief,” Patrick exclaimed.
Danielle stared at the screen. “See anything that looks familiar?”
Patrick studied the results one at a time. He shook his head when he reached the bottom. “Nothing.”
“Maybe you worked for one of these companies. Do any of the locations look familiar?”