Once inside, they made their way to the rear car, where four people were already seated. A middle-aged man in a dark suit was immersed in a copy of Le Monde, which he held stiffly in front of his face. A girl with spiked pink hair and a septum piercing bobbed her head to the music playing on her iPod. It was turned up so loud Danielle could hear it from several feet away. On the other side of the aisle, a couple stared at a map, mumbling to each other in English. Danielle couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it was obvious they were tourists.
“Where are we going?” Danielle asked as they settled into a pair of worn seats. “You still haven’t told me.”
An automated French voice gave a warning to stay away from the doors. A moment later, they banged shut, and the train eased out of the station.
Patrick nodded at the painted Métro map near the ceiling. “Luxembourg.”
Danielle studied the route. They were on the blue line in central Paris, headed south from Les Halles. Luxembourg was two stops away. We’re almost there. That was like music to her ears. She was completely and utterly exhausted, a product of the long journey that had begun the night before.
After helping themselves to a couple of coats they found at the house, she and Patrick had slipped out of the neighborhood just before the police arrived. They eventually discovered a rural highway, which they followed to the small town of Maisons-Laffitte. Patrick was certain all the local hotels would be watched, so they spent the night in a grove of trees in a public park.
While he kept watch, Danielle had drifted in and out of a fitful sleep. She dreamed of men in white lab coats stabbing her with syringes and shining bright lights in her face. With hindsight, she almost wished she had stayed awake.
When morning came, Patrick had left her hidden in the park while he traveled to the town’s tiny business district. He’d said his goal was to buy her some clothes and shoes without being seen. Not only was he successful in obtaining all of the targeted items, but he also managed to get his hands on a map of France.
After Patrick returned, they studied the map and discovered Maisons-Laffitte was a small suburb to the northwest of Paris. At that point, their short-term goal became clear — they would travel to the French capital, which would provide the cover they needed to search for answers.
Their goal set, Patrick had insisted they change their appearance before traveling in public. After making several purchases at a local retailer, they sequestered themselves in a unisex restroom, where they cut each other’s hair and died it black. While he’d never be mistaken for a stylist, Patrick knew his way around with a pair of scissors. Once Danielle had donned a cap and sunglasses, she doubted even her own mother would recognize her.
Their disguise complete, the two had begun their journey to Paris. The Métro red line was the most direct route, but Patrick thought it best not to board in Maisons-Laffitte or the next town, Sartrouville, because both would likely be watched. Instead, they traveled all the way to the Houilles-Carrières-sur-Seine. It was a brutal hike on foot but one that was necessary in order to keep them away from watchful eyes.
After arriving at the Houilles-Carrières-sur-Seine, Patrick had left Danielle in a café across from the station while he cased the area alone. Thirty minutes later, he returned and declared it was safe to board the train for the final leg of their journey. Despite having known him for less than twenty-four hours, Danielle trusted Patrick completely. If he said it was safe to continue, it was safe to continue.
In fact, she was so impressed with his street skills that she’d begun to wonder who he really was. Her mind ran back over all the incredible things he’d done since they’d left the facility. He’d started the boat like someone who had spent his entire life on the water. He’d disabled a lock using only a laminated badge. And he’d even managed to cut and dye their hair, something she guessed very few men could do.
He’s a man who’s used to being on the run, she told herself.
The rattling of the train drew Danielle back to the present. She studied her new partner. Amazingly, his handsome face showed little sign of fatigue. He had to be exhausted — after all, he hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before — and yet he was still alert, his eyes continually surveying their surroundings.
“Why Luxembourg?” she finally asked.
He appeared to consider his answer briefly. “Because I have a memory of being there.”
“So you’ve been to Paris before?”
“Many times.”
She frowned, surprised at his answer. “Really? Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you’d forgotten everything.”
“Because I didn’t realize it right away. When we got on the train, I started having flashbacks of the city. It’s like the veil that’s draped across my mind is being pulled open a little bit at a time.”
Unfortunately, Danielle couldn’t say the same. She remembered very little of her past. She knew her name and remembered flying to France but little else. It was like walking through a thick fog — sometimes it would open for a moment, allowing her to catch a brief glimpse of the past, only to close again quickly. She hoped it would get better as the drugs flushed out of her system. The thought of permanent memory loss was beyond frightening.
“Do you know what you were doing here?” she asked.
Patrick kept his eyes on the other passengers as he answered. “I think I was here on work, but I’m not certain. I have hazy memories of walking the streets. I can see the buildings and the people, but I can’t remember anything else.”
“Maybe your office was near the Luxembourg station.”
“It’s possible,” he admitted. “In fact, it’s something I’ve thought about.”
“And if it was, then perhaps getting out on the street will trigger more memories.”
He nodded. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
As they rode in silence, his expression changed. Something was on his mind. Danielle could sense he wanted to tell her something, but for some reason he was hesitant.
Finally, he looked at her. “I think Luxembourg may be related to some strange thoughts I’ve been having.”
Danielle’s eyes widened slightly. “What thoughts?” When he didn’t answer immediately, she placed a hand on his leg. “We’re in this together. Tell me what you’re thinking. Maybe I can help you figure it out.”
He held her gaze for a moment then said, “I keep seeing three words flash in my thoughts. It happens over and over like a tape playing on endless loop.”
“Tell me what they are.”
“Two numbers and a name, and the name sounds French.” He glanced around the car then leaned in close and whispered, “One hundred twelve, sixty-seven, Mazarine.”
Danielle repeated the words quietly to herself. The numbers seemed random, devoid of significance. He was right about the name. It did sound French. Maybe it was the last name of someone who lived in Paris. “Do you know anyone by that name?”
He shook his head.
“What do you think they mean?” she asked.
The train’s brakes squealed as it glided into the Saint-Michel — Notre-Dame station. It was the last stop before Luxembourg.
“I have no idea,” Patrick said as more passengers boarded. “When they enter my mind, there is no corresponding image. No context whatsoever.”
“Maybe it was something you were supposed to memorize, something to help you recover.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
The doors hissed shut, and the train eased out of the station.
“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.”