“I did.” He’s subtly shifted forward in his seat, positioning his shoulder in front of me—an instinctive, defensive gesture.
Andrews looks him over appraisingly. “Thank you for clarifying, Aksel. And thank you for taking action.”
Aksel glowers at Andrews; he didn’t tell her for praise, he told her because he doesn’t want me implicated.
Andrews proceeds to ask more questions—vague, unspecific, leading questions. But her inquisitive voice sounds distant, fuzzy. It is background noise compared to the orchestral presence of the imperious voice of my father.
Command always knows where we are … An informant on the inside … There is always someone willing to betray you for a price …
A price. Abramovich was a corrupt oligarch, worth hundreds of millions of dollars.
“What did you discuss with Abramovich?” Andrews asks. “What details can you tell me?”
… I only answer to one person …
Only one person always knew where we were. Only one person knew about the circumstances of Farhad’s death in Tunisia. Only one person knew about Aksel’s parents. Only one person sent us to Waterford. Only one person knew we were boarding a train in Vienna and could have tracked me when I jumped.
I look down at my own Skagen watch.
Silver, with a string of gold circling through it.
Like a rifle shot, I know who. The only thing I don’t know is—
“Why?” I blurt out, standing. My mother coils her fingers around my wrist. I shake her off. “Why did you do it?” I nearly shout at Andrews.
“Sophia!” my mother says sharply. Her eyes flash between us.
“You betrayed my father, my mother, all of us!”
“Sophia,” my mother hisses.
“You worked for the Russians—Abramovich—and you sold us out every time you had a chance. How did they pay you? Cash? Mansions? Or was power enough that—”
“Sophia, sit down,” my mother orders. But Aksel stands behind me. I feel the weight of his presence like my own shield of armor.
After all these years I am no longer afraid. Not of Bekami. Not of Abramovich. And certainly not of Andrews.
“How much?” I shout. “How much am I worth? My life? What did he pay you? What did you want so badly?”
If Andrews is surprised, she masks it nicely. “You’ve been through a lot, Sophia. You’re grieving and sleep-deprived. I’ll pardon this outburst, given what you’ve endured.”
“Endured? Yes, I’ve endured plenty. On account of you.” Pointing at Andrews, I look at my mother. “They always knew where we were headed, right? Because she told you where to go!”
I hold up my wrist to my mother. “She told you to give me this, didn’t she?” I point at the matching Skagen watch on Andrews’s wrist. “She found me in Hütteldorf after I jumped from the train, and she told Bekami where to find me in the forest!”
Andrews glares at me. “I do not know what you are suggesting, but you are playing a dangerous game. You are delusional and in shock following your father’s death—”
“He’s dead because you betrayed him!” I fire back.
“You’ve been through a lot,” she says calmly. “You’re unwell. I should have brought a physician on board with me. I’m so sorry I didn’t.”
Steeling my resolve, I touch the clasp on my watch. “Perhaps I am unwell. But we’ll see after specialists examine both our watches.”
When Andrews flicks her eyes to her own watch, my instincts are confirmed. I may have, at times, been out of my parents’ line of sight, but never far from Andrews’s. My necklace allowed my parents to keep track of me; my watch allowed Andrews to keep track of us.
“Don’t be foolish,” Andrews says. “I’ve helped your parents protect you—”
“Then why didn’t you tell my parents that Abramovich was living in Istanbul? Or that Bekami had escaped prison? You knew about the NEMCOVA mission—about me—and rather than protect us, you cut a deal with Abramovich! Because of you, a Russian has been controlling an entire division of America’s intelligence network.”
“I have done no such thing—”
“Rather than protect people against terrorists, you found a Russian who supplies them weapons and you brokered a deal! Now Chechen separatists have a nuclear weapon—because of you.”
Andrews steps toward me.
Aksel is no longer standing behind me, but beside me—his forearm lodged at my hip, ready to protect me like the safety bar on a roller coaster.
Hearing our raised voices, several Latvian soldiers have lifted their eyes to watch us. But they aren’t allowed to interfere. Talk to us. Touch us. We are invisible cargo that just happens to be on the brink of imploding.
“I saved you,”