Lieutenant Asadi sat opposite Nicole. This was his fourth shot at interrogating her. His face, however, looked a little different this time. Despite the temperature in the room, which had not warmed with the progression of daylight hours, the officer had beads of sweat on his brow. An open file folder rested on his crossed legs, and he was riffling through a series of papers. He seemed aggravated, missing the calm superiority of his previous interrogation sessions.

This is not a good change, she thought. He looks like he just got ripped apart by someone—probably the nameless man in the suit. Hold strong no matter what. Maybe the Mossad will come for you.

But her belief in an impending rescue was growing less and less. In between the questionings—when it was just her, the cold, and her thoughts—she wondered. After all, she was just a goy analyst in the Israeli Mossad. How far would they really go to save her? She’d even begun doubting Nir’s loyalty. Would he really risk his career, his freedom, even his life for her?

Besides, she’d assaulted a police officer. Even if they wanted to help her, what could they do?

She realized her childhood of neglect and mother’s abandonment of her and her twin brother were likely feeding the flames of doubt. But the fact remained that she was hours into this ordeal and had heard absolutely nothing about anyone trying to at least negotiate her release.

Asadi abruptly tapped the papers on the folder to align their edges, then laid them down and closed the file. “Why are you here in Iran, Nicole?”

Exasperated, she said, “How many times are you—”

“Answer the question.” He lifted the folder and waved it at her. “I have a file filled with evidence that everything you have said to me is an absolute lie. So I am going to ask you my questions one more time. And if you give me the same lies, then we will move to the next stage of our interrogation.”

Nicole was pretty sure he was bluffing about the evidence in the file folder, but the “next stage” reference certainly caught her attention.

“Now, why were you in Tehran?”

“I don’t know what else to tell you, except what I’ve already said two dozen times now.” Her very real anger and frustration were evident in her tone. “I arrived in Tehran two days ago, then flew a charter plane to Noshahr Airport. But because the flight had a mechanical delay, the light had gone by the time I arrived at Namakabrud Beach. We rescheduled for today, which left me with nothing to do. So I decided to return to Tehran and see some of its sights.”

“What did you do in the capital city?” he asked with an aggravated sigh.