She had made up her mind to act, when a rough hand seized her by the waist. She felt a heavy, hot breath against her neck. When she turned her head, she caught a flash of orange in her vision.
From the uniform of the Guardia Costiera.
A hand over her mouth, she was swung around and set on her feet without a sound.
She looked up into a face she knew, a face she should have guessed at. Vincenzo was holding a gun.
41
Lesvos, Greece
‘Stay quiet,’ he said, speaking in her ear. ‘I don’t have to shoot you, but I will.’
The gun nudging her ribs, Rachel followed his lead. She expected to be taken to the shed, where the door now stood half-open, sounds issuing from within. A scream from Sehr, a violent oath, a shocking slap.
Rachel was shepherded to the van. Its cargo doors were open, the interior bare of passenger seats, the space cleared out for cargo. It wasn’t empty. There was a body wrapped in plastic at the back.
Vincenzo’s hand was feeling around at her waist.
‘Do you have a gun?’
Sweating with fear, Rachel nodded. A frantic pulse pounded in her ears. She was waiting for an opening, trying to clear her thoughts. Praying Sehr was still alive. No shots had been fired because whoever was in the shed couldn’t afford the noise. But Rachel had seen two bodies, so these men were prepared to kill.
Vincenzo felt for her gun, his own buried deep in her ribs.
‘Get in,’ he said. She obeyed. She thought of slamming the door into his head by swinging it outward, but he was too quick for her.
He looked into her face, closing one of the doors.
Then to her astonishment, he handed over her gun.
‘You’ll only get one chance. When we load the bodies into the van, you have to take the shot. Do you understand me?’
She didn’t, but Rachel nodded anyway. When she moved to raise her gun in his face, in an anguished voice he said, ‘Please, I need your help.’
She lowered her gun. There was something in his misery she trusted. He slammed a cargo door shut. Rachel waited, praying she was doing the right thing. She was playing with Sehr’s life. And she didn’t hear sirens on the hill.
She knew Khattak was passionately involved – his anger on the hillside was the anger of a man who feared losing what he loved. If Vincenzo killed Sehr, Khattak would never forgive her. She was racked with the fear of how much that mattered.
The door to the store house banged open; she heard two men conferring in low voices. They came closer, carrying Sehr’s body. She struggled until one of the men slapped her. He cursed Vincenzo when he saw the cargo door was closed. He let go of his grip on Sehr, yanking on the door.
Rachel crashed her gun down on his head.
He staggered back but didn’t fall, gathering himself to charge her. Rachel’s gun went flying. She could hear sounds of a scuffle – had Sehr tackled Vincenzo? She couldn’t think, couldn’t see, her body thrown like a child’s into the back of the van, where it slipped over the tarp. A low cry sounded from under the covering. Rachel’s thoughts froze but the man was on her, straddling her body, his strong hands at her throat.
She kneed him in the stomach and gained herself an inch of space, tearing at his arms, ripping at his sleeves, adding the fury of her nails to the scratches that ran up his forearms. He grunted, leaning closer. He pressed his elbow to her windpipe. She knew at that moment there was nothing she could do to save herself.
There was a scrambling sound beyond the van.
‘No!’ a voice cried, followed by a thump.
The man’s body went slack over Rachel’s. She looked up into Khattak’s pale face. He’d smashed his gun down on the back of the man’s head. His own wound bleeding, he dragged the man’s body off Rachel and shoved it out of the van.
It sprawled into the glare of the flashlight quivering in Sehr’s hand.
Breathing harshly, Rachel stumbled out of the van. Vincenzo was semiconscious on the ground beside the other man.
Rachel sank to her knees and stripped off the other man’s mask, expecting to see Peter Conroy.
But the man who faced her with bold, unblinking eyes wasn’t Peter Conroy.
It was the commander of the Coast Guard, Illario Benemerito.
He spat at Rachel and missed, his lips curled back in a grimace.
‘Don’t!’ Vincenzo cried. ‘You have to stop now, Benny.’
Stunned, Rachel said, ‘Illario? What are you doing here?’ Her hands and voice were shaking.
Too weak to struggle to his feet, Benemerito turned his face away. Rachel touched his arm. ‘Illario –’
His head swiveled round, his dark eyes impenetrable.
Without expression, he said, ‘You have nothing you can use against me. And I’m not saying a word.’
In the noise and confusion that followed, Sehr sat unmoving at Vincenzo’s side, watching police and paramedics gather around Esa and Rachel. One of the medics had stitched up Esa’s wound, and the ambulance had been dispatched down the hill to take Philip Nicolaides to the hospital.
A second ambulance was stationed under the oaks, its red and blue lights blinking against the dark, showering the sky with sparks. The steady pulse of the lights caused a throbbing behind Sehr’s temples.
Nate was pacing outside the store house, his face streaked with tears, his fists clenched at his sides, waiting for police to secure the scene. Two officers were inside, attending to the body in the shed.
When Amélie Roux arrived, Nate was granted permission to enter the store house.
Sehr kept her eyes on Esa, who hadn’t looked around for her. He was leaning into the ambulance, Rachel at his side, something inside capturing his attention.
Sehr didn’t feel anything. She was replaying the last fifteen minutes in her mind.
Esa had found her locked in Vincenzo’s grip, just as Benemerito had launched himself at Rachel. She didn’t know what Esa had witnessed during those frenzied moments. She couldn’t guess at how he’d arrived at his difficult decision. Or if it had been difficult.
He’d left Sehr to Vincenzo, flying to Rachel’s rescue, careless of his wound in his desperation.
And even the sight of Audrey, small and shivering in the circle of Nate’s arms, couldn’t thaw the cold at the center of Sehr’s perceptions. She’d trusted Esa. She’d risked herself for him.
And Esa had made his choice.
As always, his choice was Rachel.
‘What’s your name?’ Esa asked the girl in the ambulance. His voice was very gentle, but when he saw he’d frightened her, he motioned Rachel closer and Rachel said, ‘Sami and Aya are looking for you. They’ll be so, so happy.’
He heard the raw emotion in Rachel’s voice and knew she was thinking of Zachary. It was why she’d bonded so strongly with Sami: she understood his unwavering commitment when everyone had told him Israa was dead, never to be recovered.
The girl’s eyelids flickered before she said, ‘My name is Israa.’ Then she began to cry.
There was a commotion outside the ambulance. Another car had pulled up. Sami had hitched a ride to the scene with one of the volunteers. He called Khattak’s name, his voice throbbing with fear.
Khattak found him in the glow of a police car’s lights. He called Sami over, urging him to the doors of the ambulance. He squeezed Sami’s arm, telling him, ‘She’s here. She’s safe.’
Sobbing openly, Sami peered inside the ambulance. Rachel moved out of the way. Israa raised her head from her pillow. A soft smile fluttered to her lips.
‘Sami.’ His name was a whisper of joy.
‘Ya Allah,’ he cried in disbelief. ‘Ya Allah, ya Rub, ya rasul.’
He climbed into the ambulance and gathered Israa up.
Khattak left them with Rachel. Nate was calling his name.
At the door of the shed, he was holding Audrey in his arms. Khattak’s steps faltered. Not from the moment he’d landed in Athens had he hoped for such a conclusion. His thoughts full of wonder, he found his way to his friends. Audrey threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly on the lips.
‘You found me,’ she said, whispering the words into his neck.
Esa hugged her close. ‘It was Nate,’ he told Audrey over the lump in his throat. ‘Nate would never let you go.’
But in his heart he was saying, All glory belongs to God.
Mytilene, Lesvos
In the early morning, a series of interviews were conducted jointly by Amélie Roux and Philip Nicolaides, who’d suffered a concussion but was otherwise unhurt. Esa and Rachel were not asked to participate; Sehr had insisted on being present for Audrey’s debriefing.
At the end of it, Audrey was released to Nate’s care and given permission to leave the island. She would be required to testify in the case against the trafficking ring, and this she promised to do with a fervor that spoke of the agony of her ordeal. During that period, she’d been expecting Benemerito to kill her. Roux hadn’t been as shocked to find Audrey and Israa alive. Girls were the most valuable of all commodities to traffickers, fetching high prices and generating revenue well into the future. In Audrey’s case, there was the additional possibility of ransom. Esa tried not to think of what could have happened if their luck had broken differently. There were missing who were never recovered.
He was at the hospital with Rachel and Sami, waiting for an update on Israa’s general health. Roux had told them up front that though Israa was suffering from malnutrition, she hadn’t been abused. She was worth more to the traffickers untouched. Roux had promised to tell them more at a meeting later in the evening.
As Rachel kept Aya occupied with a game, Esa brought Sami up to date.
Mournfully, Sami said, ‘Illario was my friend. He took me to Turkey to search for Israa. He solved the problems related to my papers.’
Esa sighed. This was easily the worst part of what he had to share.
‘He was separating you from Aya, waiting for an opportunity to snatch her from the camp. He wasn’t going to the beaches to help pull in the boats. He was marking out unaccompanied children, looking for those who wouldn’t be missed. When he took you back to Turkey, he was making contact with the smugglers on the other side. And he was keeping an eye on your discoveries, seeing how far you’d get.’
‘I know I should believe you,’ Sami said. He knuckled his eyes like a child. ‘I thought I’d seen the worst of what we do to each other in Syria, but this is just as ugly. What would have happened to Israa?’
Esa put his arm around Sami’s shoulders. He wouldn’t darken the boy’s thoughts with the sordid truths he’d learned.
‘She would have disappeared. We don’t know anything beyond that.’
‘Why was she still on Lesvos? Why didn’t they sell her, if that’s what they had planned?’
There was no scenario Sami hadn’t envisioned for himself.
‘Because of you, Sami. You notified Audrey the second Israa went missing, and once Audrey was involved, there was a spotlight on the operation. Interpol, Europol, the Greek police – look at what you started. Benemerito had to lie low until the traffickers could get Israa to the continent. She made the crossing from Izmir, she just didn’t reach safety.’
Sami avoided his eyes. ‘They had her for weeks. Did they –?’
‘No,’ Esa said at once. ‘Israa wasn’t harmed. She’s going to be all right. And all of that is thanks to you. You were brave. More than that, you were unshakable in your faith.’
Sami swallowed noisily, leaning into Esa’s shoulder, perhaps thinking of his brothers. Esa let him cry. When he’d composed himself, Sami asked, ‘What will happen to us now? We’re in the same position, except worse. The borders to Europe are closed. We’ll have to return to Turkey.’
Esa smiled. ‘You don’t know Audrey if that’s what you think will happen. You and Israa will be asked to testify against Benemerito. In exchange, Audrey will ensure that all three of you are granted asylum.’
Sami shot him a startled glance. ‘In Germany?’
‘No,’ Khattak said. ‘Where your sister is, Sami, in Canada. I think I understand why Dania said she didn’t know you.’
Sami’s eyelids lowered, as if he was debating what to say. In a toneless voice, he answered, ‘She doesn’t trust the authorities. She sold everything to secure Ahmed’s release from Sednaya. He was nearly dead when they gave him back to her. When the Mukhabarat returned, Dania and Ahmed had already escaped. She had good reason to think they were hunting members of our family. If she admitted who I was, she thought she’d be passing a death sentence on me or on my brothers. She doesn’t know I’m the only one left.’
Khattak had seen soul-wrenching ugliness over the course of his work. There was no scale by which to measure the depths of Sami’s loss.
Damascus, the city of jasmine. Damascus, the city of ruin.
More to himself than Sami, he whispered, ‘Israa is safe. So is your sister.’
They let a little time pass in silence. Then Sami asked, ‘So this wasn’t about the papers we smuggled out for CIJA? No one at Camp Apaydin was involved?’
Khattak shook his head, his dark hair falling across his brow. A pretty nurse with a startlingly voluptuous figure passed them in the hall. She turned and looked back at Khattak to give him a sexy wink. Sami laughed. It was the first time Khattak had heard the boy laugh.
‘That must happen to you all the time,’ he said.
Esa’s smile was mischievous. ‘It would be insufferable of me to agree.’
He considered the question about CIJA, thinking of how Amélie Roux had held the upper hand. ‘This wasn’t about CIJA, no. But for however long it takes to process your application for status in Canada, you’re not going near the Turkish border. You have one job now, and that’s to take care of Israa.’
Aya gave him a happy wave from the end of the hall. He waved back at her.
‘And Aya,’ he amended. He rose to his feet, looking at a boy whose suffering and loss he couldn’t quantify. He wanted to find the right words, words of fellowship, of brotherhood, of sojourners on a common journey – he couldn’t. No matter how he strove for empathy, this was a chasm he couldn’t cross – a suffering he couldn’t claim. So he said, ‘Don’t look back. There’s nothing left for you in Syria.’
It was advice he couldn’t have followed. A homeland was a place of the heart, a place of memory and belonging. To lose it, to leave, to watch it dissolve into agony, to be coerced into exile – it was a severing of self.
But wasn’t he dissembling to say this to the boy? All these years, what had he been doing, except looking back? Looking away from the woman at his side, the woman who’d loved him all this time.
He nodded at Rachel, letting her know it was time to return to their hotel.
He needed to tell Sehr the truth, plainly and boldly.
He’d been hiding from himself.
42
Mytilene, Lesvos
It was Nate and Audrey’s last night on Lesvos. Rachel and Khattak were staying a few extra days to assist Amélie Roux. They were waiting for Roux now. Esa walked over to the hotel desk to make their arrangements. Rachel sat with Nate in front of the fire, absently tracking Khattak’s conversation. Audrey was resting in her room.
Nate studied the bruising on Rachel’s throat.
‘I should have gone with you, I could have stopped Benemerito, but I was convinced that I would be the one to find Audrey.’
Something in his voice, in his way of holding himself apart, told Rachel the conversation wouldn’t turn out the way she hoped. Though Audrey was safe, something had altered between them, and it wasn’t because of something she’d done.
&nbs
p; ‘Would you be willing to wait, Rachel?’
The elevator pinged. Audrey stepped out, looking fragile. Nate’s demeanor changed – focused, bright, alert. Rachel felt like an obstacle to be dealt with, conscious of a dullness inside.
She was a fool. She’d put herself in this position, believing in something that would always be out of reach. She forced herself to face the truth: she’d wanted to try with Nate, she’d thought she’d found a way to ease her loneliness. To have someone see all the things she was. And not be able to endure without her.
His eyes on his sister, Nate said, ‘We’ll be caught up in this for months. The Greek police, CIJA, figuring out what to do about our NGO – Audrey can’t handle that alone. She’s at risk until she testifies. So I hope you’ll give me some time.’
Rachel couldn’t fault him for what he’d said. She tried to ignore the warning that she was opening herself up to pain. Testing the waters, she said, ‘I could help you, Nate. I’d be willing to take that on.’
She registered his impatience, knew he’d missed the significance of her words.
‘You know how it is with family, Rachel. We’re used to relying on ourselves.’
Rachel conceded the point. Where it mattered most, he couldn’t see her as a part of his life. But how could she protest, given how she’d dealt with Zachary?
Lost in her painful thoughts, she let her gaze stray over to Khattak. He’d slept for eight hours straight, and now he seemed recovered.
Nate noticed her abstraction. Alarmed, he said, ‘Rachel, I’m only asking for a little time. Please don’t write me off.’
But she could see what it would be like. She was trying to alter course, to assert the worth of her presence. To deny her importance to someone else wasn’t a pattern she intended to repeat. All her life, she’d accepted her mother’s devotion to Zachary, the way she’d pushed Rachel aside. She knew what Nate was asking of her, she wouldn’t do it again. She couldn’t live on the margins of his life. She’d have time to think it through once she was back in Toronto. Right now, she needed to escape.
No Place of Refuge Page 31
