Hanna’s eyes were red-rimmed. “Officer Sabban said it was important. That people might die if I don’t help.”
“That’s true. But you don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” Olivia told her.
“I’m not ready. But I’ll do it anyway.” She straightened her shoulders. “What do you need to know?”
Olivia leaned forward. “We need to know about your father’s company. Specifically, about export shipments in the last few months.”
“My father has dozens of shipments going out every day.”
“This one would have been unusual. Larger than normal. Perhaps a shipment to Canada,” Marielle said.
Hanna frowned, thinking, then her eyes widened. “Oh. Oh no.”
“What is it?” Marielle asked.
“There was a shipment. My father asked me to handle it personally. He said it was important. A private client in Calgary.” Hanna’s hands started to shake. She shoved them under her thighs and went on. “I thought it was strange because we don’t usually deal directly with private clients, we go through importers. But he insisted.”
“Do you remember the client’s name?” Sabban asked.
“No. But I remember the address. It was the last task I handled before he sent me to the yacht, and for some reason, I always remember the addresses.”
Marielle and Olivia exchanged a look. Had Samuel Ayari had sent his daughter onto The Fakhar to get her away from whatever he was planning? Or has he sent her as collateral to assure the Mahmouds that the attack would happen?
“Can you write down the address?” Olivia slid a napkin and pen across the table.
Hanna wrote quickly, her handwriting shaky. When she finished, she pushed the napkin back.
“Did your father say anything about what the shipment was for? Or when it would be used?” Marielle asked.
“He said it was for a big event. He seemed excited about it. It was a very large order of fireworks. So I thought he meant a party.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But it wasn’t a party, was it?”
“No, not a party.” Marielle kept her tone gentle. “We believe it’s part of a plot to attack the Prime Minister’s gala next week. The President will be there.”
And a lot of innocent people, she thought but did not say.
Hanna closed her eyes. Tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. “My father is going to kill people. And I helped him.”
“You didn’t know,” Marielle said.
“That doesn’t matter. Those people will still be dead.”
The words fell over the table like a shroud.
Finally, Olivia said, “We’re going to stop it. Your information is going to save lives.”
Hanna nodded, but she didn’t look convinced.
Anissa Sabban stood, looking queasy. “We need to go. We’ve been here too long already.”
As Sabban slid several bills under her water glass, Marielle stood and locked eyes with a woman sitting at the bar. She sipped an espresso. But her focus never left their table.
Marielle nudged Olivia and tilted her head toward the woman.
Olivia stiffened.
The woman at the bar raised her espresso cup in a small salute and smiled.
Then she stood and walked out of the café.
