“I’m going to get you both into Kuwait. You’ll be safe there.”

Faulkner parked the car next to the shack. Beatrix opened the door to get out. Faik did the same, still moving slowly and with an expression of wariness on his bruised face. She could guess why. He was wondering if this was another trick. Was he being teased with the prospect of his freedom, only to have it taken away at the last moment? Worse than that, was his little sister in danger now, too?

Mysha emerged and ran to her brother. She flung her arms around him, her face pressed into his chest. He returned the embrace, picking her up and squeezing her tight. When he looked over at Beatrix, there were tears streaming down his face.

She waited for a moment as they spoke.

Faulkner stood alongside her. “You cut that pretty fine,” he said.

“Good shooting. It wouldn’t have worked without you.”

“And Pope.”

“That didn’t hurt,” she admitted.

“What next?”

“We’ll get them out of the way, and then we go and get West. Start the car. I don’t want to be here any longer than we have to.”

Faulkner made his way back to the Freelander. Beatrix turned back to Mysha and Faik just as the girl threw her arms around her.

She untangled herself and held the girl back a little so that she could look at her.

“Thank you,” Mysha said.

“You’re welcome.”

“You do not work in television.”

“Not exactly.”

“You are very kind. I don’t know why you would help us like this. And I found this, too.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the roll of notes. “You must take it back. I cannot accept.”

“No,” Beatrix said, a little more sternly than she meant. “I have plenty of money. I want you to have it.”

“I cannot . . .”

She knelt before the girl and placed both hands on her shoulders. “Mysha, please. What has happened to you and your family is not right. It makes me happy that I can help, even if it’s only just a little bit. Please. You don’t need to be proud. There’s nothing wrong with accepting a little help now and again. And you’ll need all the money you can find.”

She looked across to Faik. He was watching them both, and as she caught his eye, he nodded at her.

Beatrix laid a gentle hand on the girl’s cheek. “Has Faik told you what we’re going to do?”

“He says we must leave.”

“That’s right. As soon as we can. Go and help him clean up. He’s had a rough time of it. And then get the things you can’t do without.”

She stood and wiped a hand across her eyes.