Two months passed before Noor came back without the men. Dima desperately wanted to ask her what had happened, but there was always someone else around, keeping an eye on them. Late one night, as Dima was sleeping, a hand slipped over her mouth. Her eyes flew open, and she expected to see Bilal looming over her, but it was Noor.
“We’re in trouble,” Noor whispered.
“They found out about the pills?” This was the fear that was always on Dima’s mind.
Noor frowned as if she hadn’t understood, and then shook her head. “Not the pills.”
What her sister said next froze Dima’s blood.
Hammad Kassab, their uncle and guardian, was more than just the local businessman they thought he was. It turned out his fundamental beliefs had led him to become the head of a militant organization that had camps in the mountains of northern Pakistan. Noor’s husband was his second-in-command, and Dima’s husband a rising leader. They had gone north with Noor to purchase houses in Islamabad, a few hours south of the camp, where the families would now permanently relocate. Noor had been sent back to help arrange the move.
“I am to go back in two weeks, and you are to come with me,” Noor said.
Dima could see despair in her sister’s eyes, and knew once they reached the Pakistani capital, their lives, already all but forfeited, would officially be over. Visions of torture and gruesome deaths so filled Dima’s mind that she almost missed her sister saying, “If we go.”
A blink. “If?”
“I’m getting us out of here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Away from this place. Away from them.”
“How?”
“I’m still working on it, but it will happen before we are supposed to head back north. I promise.”
The thought of escaping was as terrifying to Dima as it was exhilarating. If they were caught, they’d be stoned, but if she stayed she could die a thousand different ways, not the least of which by the slow daily butchering of her soul.
“You need to be ready,” Noor said.
“I’m ready now.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
They left on foot six nights later at midnight, with nothing but the clothes on their back, and crossed nearly half of Karachi before they reached their destination.
The house looked no different than most of those in the city. Noor rapped lightly twice on its door at just past four a.m. She paused for a second and then rapped three more times. When the door opened, no light spilled from inside.
“Come in, come in,” a shadow whispered.
Inside they found a nervous, middle-aged couple. No names were exchanged, only a this way before they were led down into a basement. Behind a false wall was a room with several beds, some food, and a chemical toilet.
“Do not try to leave on your own,” the man said. “Do not knock on the wall or attempt to signal us in anyway. If you do, you will be put on the street and will have to manage on your own. We will come for you when it’s time.”
“We understand,” Noor said.
With that, the wall was closed and the two sisters were left alone.
“Who are they?” Dima asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Then how did you know to come here?”
For a few seconds, Dima wasn’t sure her sister would answer, but then Noor said, “I contacted some of Mother and Father’s old friends. We are apparently not the first who wished to leave a toxic situation.”
The home was part of an underground railroad of sorts. Over the next two weeks, Dima and Noor were shuffled from location to location. Most of their hosts kept contact to a bare minimum, but a few made the extra effort to tell them everything would be okay and talk to them for a while.
On the fourteenth day, at their ninth stop, a message awaited them. Noor read it, burned it, and ground the ashes into dust.
“What did it say?” Dima asked.
“We get out tomorrow.”
Dima could hardly believe it. They would finally leave Karachi and Pakistan behind. She slept in fits and starts all night, anticipating the relief she would feel when they were truly free.
When morning came, she and her sister dressed in burkas and waited for their guide to arrive. The woman who showed up was similarly dressed. She took them on a public bus, switching lines twice before getting off for good.
“There,” she said, gesturing down the block. “You see that building with the faded blue stripe on one side?”
Dima spotted it right away. The structure was on the next street over, peeking above the buildings between her and it.
“I see it,” Noor said.
“Go there. Look for the door along the back. You’ll see a diagonal scratch near the top. Knock exactly four times. Good luck.”
“You’re not coming with us?” Dima asked, surprised. All their previous guides had made sure they arrived at their destinations.
But the woman was already walking away.
“I don’t like this,” Dima said.
“Neither do I.” Noor fell silent for a moment. “Listen very carefully. If there is any trouble at all, you run.”
“Run? Where?”
A pause. “Remember the house we stayed at four nights ago? The one with the green blanket.”
“Yes. Near the zoo.” The young couple who had taken care of them had spent more time than anyone else talking to Dima and Noor.
“Right. That one. Do you think you could find it again?”
“I think so.”
“Go there. They’ll help you.”
Dima frowned. “But where will you be?”
“Doing the same thing you’re doing.”
“You’ll meet me there?”
Noor nodded, but didn’t say anything.
They made their way down the street and around the corner. But before they reached the building with the blue stripe, Noor grabbed Dima’s arm, stopping her. There was no need for Dima to ask why. She could see the reason ahead.
Parked next to the building were two pickup trucks full of men. Standing in the bed of the closest truck, scanning the area, was Dima’s husband, Bilal.
“Turn around slowly,” Noor said.
They started walking back the way they’d come, but didn’t get far before a shout rang out behind them. Somehow, even in their burkas, Bilal had recognized them.
“Run!” Noor yelled.
They sprinted down the block and around the first corner, putting the men out of sight.
“This way, this way!” Noor said, crossing into the street.
Dima followed her into a narrow alley, where they had to weave around people leaning against the walls and walking in the other direction.
When a new walkway sprang off to the right, Noor said, “There! Go!”
This time she let Dima go first.
From down the other alley they heard more shouting, and Dima knew her husband and his companions had found their trail.
The walkway opened onto another street. They dodged cars on their way to the far side, and went down half a block to another walkway.
“Turn here,” Noor said when they came to a new opening.
Dima took the left, her heart pounding. What had gone wrong? How had her husband found them? And how had he recognized them?
Ahead, the pathway opened onto another street. As she neared the end, she expected Noor to give her new directions, but her sister remained silent.
“Which way?” Dima asked.
No answer.
She glanced back, and immediately skidded to a stop. Noor was gone.
Her throat constricted to the size of a needle. She started retracing her steps, looking for her sister.
If there is any trouble at all, you run.
She paused. Noor would want her to keep heading away, but how could Dima do that?
Run.
Dima looked both ways down the alley, unsure.
Run.
T
he house with the green blanket. That’s where Noor had told her to go.
Turning back the other way was one of the hardest things she’d ever done, but soon enough she was running again.
She waited until dark to approach the house. The young couple was surprised and more than a little scared by her reappearance, but when she told them what had happened, they took her in like Noor had known they would.
Dima lived in their safe room for ten days before a note arrived.
Noor was safe with the Americans, and had worked out a deal to also get Dima free. Noor didn’t disclose how she had secured their help, but it was an easy enough guess. Dima’s freedom for information about their uncle’s militant operation. And knowing her sister, Dima was certain Noor would hold on to the information until Dima was with her again.
“I WAS SMUGGLED out of the country,” Dima told Quinn and Orlando. “Unfortunately, my uncle somehow found out and used all his resources to find me. I’m sure his concern was not so much that we’d left our husbands but what Noor and I might disclose to the Americans about what he was doing. From Pakistan, I was taken to Turkey, where I was handed off to someone who got me to Spain. And there—”
“Nate,” Quinn said.
“Yes. That’s when I met your friend and your sister.”
“So, it’s your uncle who’s behind this.”
“Yes.”
“His organization must be pretty well connected to access the type of people he sent after you,” Orlando said.
“Noor’s the one who knows the details. But I got the impression from her that his group is tied to a larger organization.”
“Islamic State? The Taliban?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
Quinn kept his expression neutral, but he couldn’t help feeling disappointed and annoyed. He had hoped the person who’d hired Liz’s killer was someone he could get to without too much trouble. But a terrorist ensconced in Pakistan? While there were countries in the Middle East Quinn had no problem operating within, that wasn’t one of them.
“Is your sister here, too?” Orlando asked.
“She was, for a day. But after making sure I was okay, she let them take her somewhere. I have not seen her since.”
A THICK LAYER of fresh snow made their trek back to the SUV a slog, even in their snowshoes.
“She’s scared someone else is going to be sent to kill her,” Orlando said once they were far enough away from base not to be heard.
Quinn kept walking, sensing where she was going with this.
“We both know she’s right, too,” Orlando continued. “Even if her uncle knows they’ve already told US intelligence what they know, he’ll come after them. His ‘honor’ won’t let them live.”
Quinn said nothing.
“Do you really think Helen or her friends at the CIA will be able to keep that from happening?”
“I have no idea.”
She grabbed his arm and stopped him. “Bullshit. You know they won’t. They have their information. They’ll provide some minimal protection and then be on their way.”
“Maybe.”
“No maybe. That’s exactly what’s going to happen. Don’t pretend it isn’t.”
“Okay, yes. That’s the likely scenario. But it isn’t our problem.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No, it isn’t. The only thing I want right now is to find Liz’s killer.”
Orlando’s eyes were soft and understanding. “We all want that. But what happens to Dima and her sister is also our problem.”
“No, it’s—”
“Liz gave her life protecting Dima. If we let Dima die, then Liz’s sacrifice was for nothing. I know you know that.”
He did. He’d been thinking about nothing but that since they left Dima in her room. But the angry part of him, the vengeful part, wanted to focus only on his more personal goal and ignore everything else.
Dammit, dammit, dammit.
“Don’t be mad at me,” Orlando said, reading his face.
“I’m not,” he said. He was mad at himself. “All right, fine. We’ll do what we can for Dima, too. But the assassin is still the priority.”
Orlando’s eyes smiled.
“What?” he said.
“You were always going to help her. I just needed to make you admit it.”
He whirled back around and started walking again. “Come on. It’s too damn cold out here.
Chapter Eleven
MUNICH
NATE KNEW HE couldn’t chance another walk past Dehler’s hidey-hole. Seeing a stranger appear on her camera feeds for a second time in an hour would heighten her suspicions. Though that might also force her out of the apartment, he’d rather she left in a way that gave him more control of the situation, one that didn’t include her knowing he was in the area until he could get the drop on her.
If he had a partner, he’d put her on the roof across the street and have her take a potshot at the window of Dehler’s safe room. That would get Dehler moving. Alone, his options were more limited.
Nate changed the setting on his phone so that it would display a local Munich number, and then dialed 110, the German version of 911.
When his call was answered, he said in a nervous, older tone, “I think you need to send someone. I heard some shouting, and then a scream. I-I-I think he hurt her.”
“Sir, may I have the address?”
He gave it to her. “Apartment 3-127. They just moved in. Hurry. He’s yelling again but I don’t hear her.”
As the dispatcher started to ask another question, Nate hung up.
He settled into a spot from which he had a view of the three closest exits to Dehler’s room. On his screen was the tracking map, the dot still in the apartment.
Two minutes and seven seconds after he disconnected from the emergency services line, he heard sirens, faint at first but growing louder and louder until two police cars, lights strobing, pulled up in front of the building.
The dot suddenly moved from the middle of the apartment to the window, and stayed there as the cops—four in total—hurried to the entrance. Once they disappeared inside, the dot moved quickly around the apartment. Nate guessed she was preparing to flee, if necessary.
When the dot moved to the apartment’s front door, he knew the police had reached the third-floor corridor. The dot stayed still for nearly a minute before it moved again—a brief return to the center of the room, and then back to the door and out into the hallway.
Nate smiled. He’d sent the cops to the neighboring apartment, hoping it would scare her into leaving. Sure enough, it had.
He watched the dot descend to the ground floor, and then waited for it to turn right toward the exit he expected her to use.
Only the dot went left.
“Dammit.”
He started walking as fast as he could without drawing attention, in the direction the woman had gone. Another glance at his phone told him she was heading toward the main entry, the same one the police had used.
Just ahead, the building took a sideways jag away from the street before it continued parallel to the road again, creating the small plaza area where the young watcher had been waiting earlier. Nate knew he’d never get there before the woman moved outside, so he veered toward the building, intending to crouch down like he’d dropped something when he got there. As he walked, he checked his phone again. He barely had time to register the dot was right around the corner, only a few feet away, when he heard hurried footsteps.
He spun his back to her and acted like he was absorbed in his cell. She passed by no more than a meter away. Close enough for him to grab her if only they weren’t in such a public spot.
She had walked almost completely by him when he heard her steps falter. Keeping his head turned away as much as possible, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.
Oh, crap.
She was staring at him, as if unsure whether she knew him or not. The moment recognition dawned on her face, s
he ran.
His element of surprise was gone, but more than that, his ability to remotely track her was about to disappear. Being an experienced operative, she’d immediately ditch all her electronics. Without her phone, he might never find her again.
He raced after her.
She sprinted down Schwanseestrasse and turned left on Chiemgaustrasse. The street dipped to pass under a bridge ahead, but Dehler stayed on it for only a few meters before jumping onto the rising slope that bordered the road. Ahead of her, a wall cut through the growth, perpendicular to her path. She timed her leap perfectly, grabbing the top edge of the wall and thrusting herself up onto higher ground.
Nate was right behind her, pushing his high-performance prosthetic leg to its maximum ability, and made the leap only a bit less gracefully than she had.
Two sets of train tracks ran over the bridge. Dehler was already halfway across the tracks by the time Nate was back on his feet and chasing her again.
His gun was under his jacket, knocking against his ribs, but he would have to slow to pull it out, which would give Dehler time to increase the distance between them and diminish his chances of hitting her, not to mention ruin his entire hold-her-until-Quinn-arrived plan.
One of the tracks split, creating a third line. The woman raced down the dirt between the center track and the one on the left. Nate kept expecting her to veer off into the neighborhood, but she kept going, right over the bridge that crossed the next intersection, like she had a destination in mind.
More tracks. Four wide for a moment, and then five. Still, Dehler stayed left.
Soon, the ground to either side began falling away, and Nate realized they were on a long, gently rising bridge that transported the two left tracks across the top of the others and dropped them back down again so they would now be on the right.
As Nate reached the apex, he saw train lights ahead, still at ground level, but speeding toward the bridge. Dehler was already on the downward slope, and either didn’t see the train or thought she was safe enough where she was, because she didn’t move from between the two sets of tracks. Nate’s instinct was to move a few feet to the right, but for the moment he stayed on course.
The lights lit up Dehler as the train hit the bottom of the ramp. The horn blared a warning. While Dehler adjusted her path slightly to the right to give it more room, Nate repositioned completely onto the other track to avoid getting hit. As the end of the train passed her, Dehler dove around the back and disappeared.
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