“Fat lot of good that did him in the end. He’s still dead. Raziq can join him in the afterlife. After I cut off his hands, feet, and tongue.”
The visual should disgust me, but IwantRaziq to suffer for what he is doing to Mateen. If only I believed he would.
My phone rings with an incoming video call. I can hardly breathe with how hard my heart is pounding. Nomar tugs me down next to him on the sofa and taps the screen.
My son sits in a bright blue airplane seat, his hands bound with thin ropes. A strip of black cloth gags him, and tears stain his cheeks.
“Mateen!”
His brown eyes widen, and he screams, but the sound is too muffled to make out any words.
“Let me talk to him!”
“This is all you get for now. He is alive. As are the other two,” a man with a thick accent says. He pans the camera to the right. Amelie sits alone, also bound and gagged. Her left eye is swollen shut, and a cut bleeds on her forehead. In the seat ahead of her, Philippe wriggles until another man slaps him across the cheek.
I want these men to suffer. I want my child in my arms. I want to go back in time. To yesterday, when Nomar and I shared one perfect night. But I cannot have any of those things.
“Please,” I manage. “Do not hurt them…”
“If your piece of shit boss expects Lisette to go anywhere,” Nomar growls, “you’ll let her talk to her son. Right fucking now.”
For a few seconds, I hear only murmurs, the words too quiet to understand. But then the video swings back to Mateen. He shrinks against the seat as rough fingers yank the cloth from between his teeth.
“Maman,” he cries. “I am scared…”
“I know,mon chou.So am I. But we will be together again soon. I promise. You have to be very brave for me until then.”
The man shoves the gag back into his mouth, and I start to cry.
Nomar angles the phone so his face fills the screen. “Mateen, do whatever they say.Allof you do whatever they say. Understand?”
My son nods a moment before the call drops.
My strength flees in a heartbeat, and I cover my face with my hands. Strong arms wrap around me, and for this one moment, I do not care that Nomar broke my heart. Because I have no heart left. My entire world is on that plane bound for Afghanistan.
He rubs my back, and when his phone beeps, manages to answer it without letting go.
“Griff?” he asks. “Where are you?”
We are close enough, I can hear the deep voice on the other end of the call. “On my way back to the hotel for my gear. You were my first call. What’s the plan?”
I twist out of Nomar’s arms, needing to know thereisa plan beyond flying to Kabul. But the look on his face crushes that hope into dust.
“We’re coming to you. ETA zero-three-thirty. Zephyr should be sending you all the details now that she knows your phone hasn’t been compromised. Raziq gave Lisette thirty-six hours to get to Kabul. He won’t release Amelie and Philippe until he has her. We got proof of life a few minutes ago.”
“I should have been faster,” Griff says. “The big one damn near ripped my arm off.”
“Zephyr sent me the video. You couldn’t have stopped them. Put it away. We’ve got work to do.”
* * *
“Stay behind me, sweetheart,”Nomar says as he wheels my suitcase into the private terminal in Barcelona.
“Stop calling me that.” Every time he does, I wish we could be together. Truly together. But even if I could forget what he did after he left me in Boston, in thirty-six hours, I fear I will be dead. And Mateen will be lost forever.
On the hour-long flight, I could not bring myself to do more than stare out the tiny window at the darkness and the lights far below. Nomar sat next to me, tried to talk to me, but I ignored him.
Two security guards patrol, AK-47s slung over their shoulders. A man rises from one of the chairs in the waiting area. He is so young. His lip is split in two places, and a bruise darkens his jaw.
