John F. Kennedy International Airport, New York City
“I need to use the bathroom.”
The guard, for lack of a better word, nodded and Amira rose, the man opening the door and pointing. “Third door on the right. I’ll watch the kids for you.”
Amira smiled. “Thank you.” She walked down the hall, it a bustle of activity she assumed related to those from her homeland that had clearly arrived, though she had heard nothing about anyone else being shot other than the man who had assaulted her. The expressions on everyone’s faces were ones she was familiar with.
Fear.
Anger.
She walked by one room, the door open, a television blaring loudly, a crowd standing around it.
“—saying nothing at this time, however it is clear there is a significant police operation underway at Madison Square Garden. Social media reports suggest a major hostage taking—”
She stepped into the bathroom, sighing, it clear to her that whatever the murderers of her husband had planned was underway, and there was nothing she could do to stop it, despite everything she had been through.
She was just thankful to have escaped.
Especially after what they had wanted her to do.
She made quick use of the toilet, not wanting to leave her children alone for long, unsure of whether the man watching them spoke Arabic, her children’s English minimal. She stood, her eyes closed, saying a silent prayer to Allah to take care of her children, no matter what might happen to her in the coming days. Her thoughts became clouded with the news report she had overheard. If there was a major terrorist attack, then that suggested more than a few of the people these Americans had feared were in their country.
Her eyes opened wide.
And at least one that knew her face had made it here. Had he been able to phone ahead and let those already here know what flight she was arriving on, and when?
She unlocked the door and pulled it open.
And gasped, stepping back, her legs hitting the toilet.
She dropped onto the seat.
“I’m so happy to see you made it,” said the man standing there, a sickly smile on his face. The nametag on his custodial uniform said Marwan, but his Arabic was native to her region. He was no American. At least not born here.
“Wh-who are you?”
He tapped the nametag. “I was told you were an English teacher. Surely you can read?”
“Wh-what do you want?”
His smile broadened. “I’m here to make sure you fulfill your end of the agreement.”
A lump formed in her throat as her hands pressed against the sides of the stall. “You already killed my husband and my children are safe. What more do you think you can do to me?”
The man shook his head, his smile still in place. “You truly do think you escaped, don’t you?”
She felt her face drain of blood, a chill rush through her body. “What do you mean?”
“You were followed the entire time. We let you go. A genuine refugee, a woman fleeing with her children, would be trusted. Do you remember why we killed your husband?”
Her jaw dropped slightly as she thought back to those events. Nazari had told her she was to take her children to Europe where she would carry out an assignment, then she would be free of any obligation she had to them. She could think of no obligation she might actually have beyond them letting her live and continue teaching, and had said so. She had then added she would not leave her husband under any circumstances.
So they had killed him, she had assumed as punishment.
“I see you do remember. Your husband was an obstacle, we removed him. You fled, and you were helped along the way. How do you think you got through borders and onto buses and trains when so many others didn’t? You were helped along, crowds held back, room made, bribes paid, messages delivered to ensure you continued to run, continued to flee your homeland.”
Her shoulders slumped as she tried to think back on everything that had happened. She had always managed to get aboard the trains and the buses, though she had just assumed it was because they were prioritizing women and children when they could, yet when she thought about it, these transports were always jam packed with men, and her and Jodee’s families were quite often the only people not young and male.
Her jaw dropped. “Please, please tell me that Sami and Jodee weren’t involved.”
Marwan smiled. “You never wondered why a desperate family would risk their own lives to help you? Paying bribes to guards, your passage on a boat? Sami was working for us all along.”
“Why? Why would he help you?”
“For the same reason you will help us now. We held his family. His sisters, his brothers, his parents. You were found the same night you escaped. You were followed, then the second family was sent to help you.”
She shook her head. “No, I found them. I’m the one who approached them.”
“Yes, that is what you were meant to think. They were near you almost the entire time, keeping within sight, and they were to come to you if you didn’t come to them. It turns out you sought the closest family’s help. And from that point on, you were under our control. The bribes were paid and you were funneled quickly to Germany.” The corner of his lip curled slightly. “We never thought you’d go so far as to name one of us. That was a wonderful betrayal on your part. Our intent was to activate you in Germany, but for you to actually gain access to the United States with the help of the Americans?” He shook his head, his smile spreading. “Allah is truly on our side.”
Tears filled her eyes as she replayed everything that had happened over the past weeks, and as fantastic as it sounded, it suddenly made sense. This family had taken her in when they didn’t need to, they had paid her way when it was necessary, they had always managed to get on the same vehicles as her, Sami always in the lead. Had he been paying people to have them move? Threatening them with who he was working with?
She looked at the man standing over her. “There’s nothing you can do to me now. Kill me if you must.”
The man stepped back, his smile persistent. “You seem to forget your rather extensive family back home.”
She felt faint.
“We have your mother and father in custody, as well as your three brothers and two sisters. Their lives are now in your hands.”
Her head dropped into her hands as she felt all hope leave her. All she had been through, the horror and humiliation, the terror of fleeing, the relief and joy of reaching safety.
It had all been orchestrated. If the planes hadn’t bombed them, they would have forced her to go anyway under the same threat. Instead, they had let her go, watching her the entire time, helping her on her way, the perfect agent.
One who didn’t know she was one.
She stared up at him, her eyes burning, her heart pounding.
“What do you want from me?”
“To finish what you started over a year ago.”