“Obh, obh,” said the older woman, and Saif could kind of see her point; it looked like the island was on fire. A great big shaft of light was beaming straight up in the air, leading down to a vast white shape below.

“Is that hazardous?” he asked the copilot, who frowned.

“Well . . . it’s vulgar .”

Saif stared at it. He had been lost in contemplation, remembering and trying to remember every single word of every bit of the conversation from that afternoon.

“Why hasn’t she been in touch?” he had choked out. “I still have the same number. I’m on Facebook. I’m on Red Cross and Red Crescent.”

The man had looked strained. “There might be a few reasons,” he said awkwardly. “If she’s in a refugee camp she may not have access.”

“Anyone can borrow a phone.”

“She may . . . Her husband may not allow her access.”

Saif’s eyes squeezed together. “Who would not let her contact her own children?”

“Someone who did not want her to have had another family,” said the man, kindly but plainly.

Saif shook his head.

“Or,” said the man, “she understands the situation all too well and doesn’t want to make life difficult for you.”

Saif frowned. “What do you mean?” He looked up. “I got a strange message that didn’t . . . I thought it might just be coincidence.”

He explained and the man shrugged.

“Well, she knows the status of jihadi brides in the West. She knows that it would be nothing other than disruptive to you. That the British government would be unhappy, would not let her enter the country. May not even let you stay. It is possible she is counting on her silence . . . keeping you safe.”

And Saif had been quiet for a long time after that.

He leaned his head on the plane window again.

It was—it couldn’t be—but it seemed to be a large angel, built of light. He couldn’t help but stare at it. An angel of light. Mikael, the archangel of mercy.

He squeezed his eyes shut. He was a doctor, a man of science. He was not the kind of person who believed that angels would suddenly appear, would suddenly manifest, just to help him, personally, out of a predicament. That made absolutely no sense at all. Of course not.

Nonetheless, he had left Mure that morning. He had dropped the children at school. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there had been absolutely nothing on the hill in front of the school, except for the little tree lanterns that were slung there every Christmas. And now . . .

Saif stared on, absolutely hypnotized. It grew bigger and brighter as they drew closer to it. It was completely otherworldly.

“Bloody hell,” said the pilot again. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m just going to . . .”

There wasn’t another plane for hundreds of miles. He took a little detour. Just to take a look. The copilot took a photo, but it only showed itself to look like a mad, massive UFO, which was even worse. They flew low to see it, but it made no more sense close up than it did from the air.