Shadow of Betrayal Read Free Page B

a dozen meters down the alley was a pile of rotting wooden crates. She slipped behind them, crouching down so she was hidden from anyone passing by on the road. She was able to move one of the boxes a couple centimeters to the right, creating a peephole through which she could keep an eye on the army caravan as it drove by.
    The rumbling of the trucks got louder and louder until the street in front of the shop grew bright from the vehicles’ headlights. She watched first as two jeeps passed, then the trucks, and finally the last jeep. Each had been full of young soldiers dressed in dark fatigues and berets.
    Even with Marion’s limited vision, it looked to her like all the men were armed with rifles. She had yet to be able to figure out what distinguished one type of rifle from another. To her, they all produced the same result.
    As the rumble of the convoy receded, Marion stood up and started back toward the street, intent on making up for lost time.
    “Qui étes-vous? Que voulez-vous?”
    Marion froze. The voice had come from behind her. It was male, deep and urgent.
    “Répondez-moi. Que faites-vous ici?”
    She raised her hands. “Please,” she said. “I’m just trying to get home.” Though French was her native tongue, she answered in English. In the unlit alley, her olive-colored skin might look darker than it really was, so she wanted to emphasize the fact that she was a foreigner.
    She heard the man take a step closer to her. “Are you American?” he asked, his English slow and deliberate.
    “Canadian,” she said.
    “Turn. Slow.”
    She did what he asked.
    When she saw him, she realized he was older than she’d thought. His hair was gray, his body thin and stooped. He held a pistol, and was pointing it at her, though the tremor in his hands moved the barrel a half an inch in either direction every few seconds.
    He wasn’t alone, either. Behind him, peeking around his hip, was a young girl. She looked more curious than scared.
    “Why do you hide behind my shop?” The man seemed to think hard before saying each word, as if he was reaching back to knowledge he hadn’t used in decades.
    “The soldiers,” she said. “I didn’t want them to find me out after curfew.”
    “Not safe. You should not be out here.”
    The little girl smiled at Marion. It was doubtful she could understand a word that was being said.
    “I told you. I’m just trying to go home,” Marion said.
    “No car? Alone?”
    Marion looked at him for a moment, then shook her head.
    “You will be killed,” the man said, but he lowered his own gun, indicating the bullet would not come from him. “Wait until morning.” He nodded at the spot she had been hiding in when the convoy passed. “There. You will be safe. I will not… give you trouble.”
    “I can’t,” she said. “I have to go.”
    The man’s eyes grew distant, then he said, “Wait.” Only this time she knew he didn’t mean for her to hide out in the alley all night.
    He turned and walked quickly away, disappearing behind the back of the shop. The little girl followed him, though more reluctantly, stealing glances back at Marion, until she, too, was gone.
    Though Marion felt the need to continue her journey, she did as the old man asked. Less than a minute later he was back, this time alone. The pistol he’d held in his hand had been replaced by a rectangular box that tapered at one end and fit snug in his palm.
    He hesitated a moment, then held it out to her. She took it, unsure what to do with it. Without taking it from her hand, the old man turned the device so that the tapered end lay across her palm. In thisdirection, her thumb fell naturally across the top of the box and rested on top of a square button.
    “Touch someone with this end,” the man said, pointing at the wide edge of the box. “Push button. Electric.”
    “You mean shock?” she asked. “Like a Taser?”
    He looked at her like he hadn’t understood what she was asking.
    “Electric.