“He will not take me or Heather,” Mourad said. “But everyone else is a stowaway. And he will take them.”

“I will go to another city,” Aziz said quickly. “The rest of you: away for a day, then back.”

Ghazi shook his head. “He will not go that easy.”

“The thing to do is Canada,” Mourad said, after a moment. He was back in Arabic. “And a bus, that is the thing. At the border, Ghazi, you ask for asylum and use your real name. They won’t be looking for your name. They will be looking for Aziz’s name. Aziz, you take a bus to New York. There are many Arabs and Muslims there; it is easy to get lost in them. Ghazi, at the border, you say you were in the Algerian military—bring your army papers, your real passport—and say irhabiya killed your family and you fled. In Canada, they will let you in. If you do this by the end of today, Hank Bridges will not have had time to figure out you are not Aziz, and your true name will not be on the list. You cannot go to airports. Airports have too many checks. Hank Bridges may even go right to the airport.”

Ghazi nodded. “Good. That is good. Aziz and I will go to the bus terminal. And the rest?” He looked at the Three.

“We will find places. There is always someone.”

“There are five from Arzew in Revere,” Lahouari said. “They will take us.”

Mourad looked at his brother. Aziz wondered if he remembered saying, “You are hunted.” That night back home, the rest of the family was frantic. Mourad had been granite cold.

Mourad hung his head for a moment and Aziz saw the place where his hair had already thinned to a fuzz. It touched him lower than tears to see it. A rasp of grief came from Mourad. “You,” he said in Arabic to Aziz, “for you to have this. Just as good was walking toward you.”

Then Mourad glanced around and into the hall.

“We have to make this place look as if only two live here—the American girl, Heather, and the green card Algerian, Mourad,” he said.

“But it is a two-bedroom!” exclaimed one of the Three, who thought no one would believe such wasting of space.

“This is not a problem,” Mourad said. “We will be lovers,” he said to Heather. “We met at Reach. The other room is the guest room. I want these mattresses and the rest on its way to Revere before eight.” Mourad pulled out his wallet. He counted out several bills. “Take this,” he said to Aziz.

They began moving.

Chapter 18

18