We made the airport exactly two hours before the KLM flight. I walked her directly to the entrance of the security area and she gave me a long hug.

‘Thank you for getting us out alive. And for always being there for me.’

I bit down on my lip and felt tears.

‘I don’t want you to go,’ I said.

‘I’m freaked too. Landing in a foreign city I know virtually nothing about. But, Poppa … I have to disappear until we are sure no one evil is looking for me.’

I couldn’t argue with that. I still felt that jolt of inevitable separation that knocks a parent sideways when the realization hits: she’s truly leaving home. What made this even harder was the thought: Klara is all I care about in the world. And if things break wrong she might not be able to safely return. We could be apart – not within crosstown reach – for a very long time.

‘You could wait and see how things play out,’ I said.

‘I’m getting on that plane, Poppa.’

I felt myself starting to sob. Klara took my face in her hands.

‘No teary-eyed goodbyes, Poppa. None of the sadness that I know I will feel for as long as I am apart from you.’

‘Whatever’s easiest.’

‘None of this is easy. I’m still a little girl who needs her daddy. And who now has to get on a plane out of here. You can probably turn your phone on again in about three hours – as I will be safely up in the air.’

‘Okay.’

‘Will you get a passport and visit me soon?’

‘Just send me word and I’m there.’

‘I don’t deserve you,’ she said, giving me one last long hug.

‘You come back as soon as you can.’

‘You come see me as soon as you can.’

Then she was gone, vanishing into the security area. I felt myself getting shaky. I turned, tears now running down my face. I walked back to the parking lot. I popped the trunk of the Volvo. I looked down at the black duffel bag. I zipped it open. Bundles of $50 notes. I zipped the bag closed. I turned the car south, determined to make it to LA by the end of the evening. Three hours later I turned my phone back on. There was a text from Todor:

Still under ‘medical observation’ in Twentynine Palms. I should be discharged by early next week. We need to talk.

But I didn’t want to talk to Todor.

There was another message. From Elise’s lawyers.

We are trying to reach you on an urgent matter …

Thirty miles further south on the Interstate I pulled into a rest stop. I used the men’s room. I bought a bad coffee. I called the number that the law firm had texted me. I was put through to a guy named Dwight Simplon. He asked if I was in Los Angeles. I told him I was out of town.