me … Som z Bratislavy! I shrieked. I’m from Bratislava! The gate slid open. I ran through. It snapped shut behind me.
“I passed the first soldier and collapsed against the second. The stunned soldier placed me behind him. Panting, I turned—Bekami stood on the other side of the gate, heaving. His eyes were wild. His hair had come loose from its knot. His hands were coiled around the bars like he intended to break them.
“The soldier raised his rifle. In Turkish, he ordered Bekami to back away from the gate. The second soldier kept me tight behind him, barricading himself between me and Bekami. The gatehouse radioed Turkish police—orange alert—potential terror attack.
“Bekami still clung to the iron posts. I will find you, he sneered at me in Turkish, and my knife will cut deeper. You will never escape me, fahişe.
“I stepped out from behind the soldier. Not before I tell my father everything I heard, I said to Bekami in Chechen. Your names, your families, the villages you come from. The attacks you are planning and how you’ll do it. You are right about only one thing—my father is dangerous, so now it is you who should be afraid. My father will find you, every one of you, and he will kill you.
“I’ll never forget Bekami’s look of astonished rage. He never considered I spoke Chechen—why would he? I can’t imagine what went through his mind—he knew what they had carelessly discussed in front of me.
“From the gatehouse, I ran straight to Jozef’s office. He went pale when he saw me. He called in a military medic who didn’t ask questions, just stitched me up. Jozef kept me sequestered in his office until my father arrived.
“We left Istanbul under heavy security that night. We met my mother at the airport and traveled straight to Head Office of Counter Intelligence Europe, Berlin.”
Aksel’s eyes flash at me, horrified. He draws his hands over his mouth.
“It was in Berlin that my father told me who had betrayed us. Who had betrayed me.”
Aksel stares at me intensely.
“It was that nice old man from outside Ankara, my driver. He must have also been surprised … when the ‘hummingbird’ got away.”
After a heavy pause, I continue, “He was the first.”
“The first what?” Aksel asks uncertainly.
“The first one my father found.”
CHAPTER 35
“Inside the Bubble, I told my debriefer every detail of my kidnappers I remembered: eye color, hair length, accent, favorite brand of cigarette, every scar, piece of jewelry, conversation …
“Bekami said my father had foiled an attack in Albania—I assumed Bekami wanted revenge. Based in Istanbul, Bekami and Farhad’s cell was affiliated with a larger separatist organization—the Chechen Nationalist Front, CNF for short.
“CNF claimed to want the peaceful establishment of an independent Chechnya, but the plans I overheard indicated warfare. Farhad’s job was to develop a transnational network capable of executing attacks; Bekami’s job was to acquire the weapons.
“Though I told the man inside the Bubble everything I remembered, I understood little—why did they think I could help them get their weapons?
“After three days of debriefing, we left Berlin. For eighteen months, we stayed off the grid. On the move. But no matter how covertly we lived, Bekami’s men were always one step behind, or occasionally one step ahead.
“We’d been at our safe house in Tunis for seven days when my parents left me alone for the first time in months. Minutes later, the door creaked open. Someone stepped inside the flat. I hid behind the fridge.
“I heard those uneven footsteps, his jagged, wheezing breath. I watched his lace-up boots cross the tile floor, each footstep one cadence off because of his limp.
“Then, right before he entered the kitchen—two pops! He slumped to the ground, dead. He was the last of the kidnappers my father captured or killed—Ilyas Farhad. Across his face, from his brow to his chin, was the scar I had given him.
“The following day, we left North Africa and flew to America. My parents told me they could retire now because it is over. Over. My kidnappers are dead. Bekami is imprisoned in Libya. CNF fell apart after my father decimated their leadership …
“Bekami can’t be in Waterford. Farhad’s Chechen cell isn’t in Waterford. I shouldn’t still be afraid …”
My voice dries up. Aksel’s face has been growing more vehement as I speak. I can hardly bear to see the way he is watching me—like I am contaminated by it all. By Farhad. By Bekami.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “It’s my—”
“Stop that!” Aksel stands.