The American soldiers might have been fooled the day they took Fahimah, but Banoo and her husband knew soon enough about them arresting her instead of her sister. They suspected immediately, but Rahaf had told them about it not long afterward. No one knew where to look for her, though.
Her peace and quiet was short-lived.
"Are you going to tell me where you went?" he asked.
"No."
"Why not?"
"I won't tell you where I went because it has nothing to do with what you're after."
"Did you see your sister?"
"No."
"Do you know if she's in Erbil?"
"Yes… no."
"Which is it?"
"I know she is not in Erbil."
"Are you going to tell me on your own what you found out, or do I have to keep asking questions?"
"Yes, I will tell you on my own," she said, realizing that she'd been taunting him.
There was a knock on the door.
"It must be your old tea," she said, starting to get down from the bench.
"You sit. I'll get it."
Fahimah watched him reach under the back of his T-shirt. That's when she saw the gun tucked into the waistband of his shorts.
"You're armed," she said, as if that should be news to him, too.
He made a hush sound at her and went to the door. There were no security peepholes. He put his foot and shoulder to the door before opening it a crack.
"Chai," someone said from the other side.
"Uh…. mammon." Austyn opened the door and took the small tray from the doorman's hand.
"You're learning the language," she told him, putting her feet down so that there was room on the bench for him to put down the tray.
"I only know tea and thank you."
"That's very good for half a day. If you learn the word for food, you'll be ready to apply for residency."
He put the tray down next to her and sat down on the bench, as well. She touched one of the glasses. "It's cold.
He must not have had any hot water in the samovar, so he just added cold water to the afternoon tea."
"No big deal. Beggars can't be choosers."
"At least he didn't forget your sugar cubes," she commented, picking up one of the glasses of tea. She drank half of it down in one gulp. She hadn't realized how thirsty she was.
"I had a telephone call from the U.S. before you got back tonight."
His tone was once again serious.
"There's been another outbreak of the bacteria," he told her.
Fahimah wished it would go away. She wanted this to be like the anthrax scare that she'd watched on the news back in 2001, but obviously it wasn't going to be.
"More casualties?"
"One confirmed dead," he told her. "But this time the attack was in Washington, D.C. In a very populated area. The chance of it spreading is huge. Whoever is behind this is getting bolder by the minute."
"Rahaf isn't behind it," she reminded him again, to make sure he hadn't forgotten.
"Do you know where she is?"
Fahimah nodded, debating with herself how much to tell him.
"Will you take us to her?" he asked.
"Your soldiers in American uniforms can't go where she is."
"Where is she?"
"In the mountains."
"Which mountains?"
'The Zagros Mountains."
"Zagros…" he repeated, thinking. "But isn't that a huge mountain range?" he asked.
"More than fifteen hundred kilometers. They run from Kurdistan down through northwestern Iran to the Persian Gulf," she explained, putting the glass of tea back on the tray. "But we don't have to search the entire length of the Zagros to find her."
"Do you have a specific location?"
She nodded halfheartedly. "I know the general area. Rahaf is working in the refugee camps on the Iranian side of the border with Kurdistan. There used to be four camps… Sahana, Pavana, Saryas and Jwanro. I'm told she goes between them as needed."
Fahimah knew that it would be a problem for U.S. soldiers to get there. After five years in prison, she'd needed to read only a handful of headlines to know that relations between the Iranian and American governments were as hostile as ever.
"What's she doing there?" he asked.
"The people I met tonight told me my sister is working there as a doctor."
"But she didn't go to medical school, did she?"
She stared at him for a long moment. "Over the past three decades, five thousand villages have been destroyed by the Iraqis. When you're forced to pack a lifetime of belongings onto the back of a truck or a mule and cross the mountains to escape the genocide that is happening to tens of thousands of your people, when your home for more than a decade has been a tent on the side of a mountain and you rely on others' generosity to eat or clothe your children… you are not so foolish as to ask for the credentials of the doctor who is caring for your sick child. Especially when that doctor is one of your own people."
Fahimah and Rahaf had lived in those camps themselves after the horror at Halabja. Even back then, with thousands of people being in dire need of medical assistance, real doctors had been a rarity.
He watched her silently for a few heartbeats. "Is that where Rahaf has been for the past five years?" he asked.
"Yes," she told him. "And I will take one of you to her."
Chapter Twenty-Two
Standing at the railing, David could actually see the outline of the squall to the west.
The rain was moving toward them quickly, and the edges of the storm — a single patch of low dark clouds — were distinct against the clear blue sky beyond. To the right and left of the squall, he could see sunlight glistening on the ocean surface. There was no question in his mind that the rain was going to sweep right over them. He shook the folds out of his waterproof parka and pulled it over his head.
This was the first sign of any disagreeable weather since they'd boarded the ship. Everything about this trip had been perfect. Everyone's mood, especially the children's, was riding high. The staff couldn't be more helpful. There'd been no emergencies.
Once again, he wished that Sally, his wife, could be here. She would have loved to see this. David didn't remember seeing Josh this happy and consumed by any activity… ever. The teenager was already campaigning to come on this trip again next year. David knew that Josh had been resisting any thoughts or planning about anything down the road since learning of his cancer. This was a huge breakthrough.
More than anyone, he thought wistfully, Sally should have been here to hear it.
"You got the word, I take it, that our esteemed program director wants to talk to us here," Craig said, joining David at the railing.
"It's going to be pouring any minute now."
The other man looked out at the approaching storm. "Looks like it." He shrugged. "He wants to keep us informed about the news, without bothering the kids."
Parents were beginning to approach them. The kids were all below decks, busy doing lab work with the samples they'd dredged up from a couple of test sites earlier this morning. David had a good idea what Philip Carver's "talk" was going to be about. No television, radios or cell phones were allowed on this trip. In fact, no electronic equipment of any sort, including iPods and laptops, were to be brought on board the Harmony.