The assistant carried the computer over and opened it on the hood of the car.

“We created a very secure system for ourselves,” Jiddo told them. “Perhaps too secure. With the man you know as Uncle out of circulation, our access to certain information has been … somewhat restricted.”

Hala understood immediately. “You need for me to open my files,” she said, to an approving smile. She stepped over to the laptop, where a flashing cursor waited on the blank screen. It took only a moment to still her racing mind. Then the sixteen characters she needed flowed out of her fingers as if by muscle memory: 23EE4XYQ9R21WV0W.

The screen blinked once, then repopulated itself with a familiar series of icons. Hala scanned through them quickly, making sure everything was as she’d left it — target names, home addresses, public schedules, maps, security contacts.

“I believe it’s all here,” she said.

“Very good,” Jiddo said. “And now —”

Tariq spoke up all at once, in a voice that was oddly grave. “Hala!”

She turned around and saw the other couple standing behind them. The man had his hand out. In his palm were the two cyanide capsules that had been removed from her pocket earlier.

The woman stayed to the side, covering them with her Sig from the opposite angle.

“And now,” Jiddo said again, “we must ask for one last act of dedication to The Family.”

HALA STARED AT the old man, understanding everything – and understanding nothing at the same time. The Family was supposed to be smart, wise.

“You can’t be serious,” she said.

“I believe you’re familiar with the terms,” he answered. “It is preferred that your deaths be deemed a suicide by the authorities.”

The words hit Hala like scalding water. And the reversal of it all. She remembered the night at the Harmony Suites Business Hotel, when she’d said virtually the same thing to the other couple. The ones she’d thought were traitors.

The ones she’d been told were traitors.

“How can you do this? After all of our service? All we went through?” she said.

Jiddo was unperturbed. “You came to this country prepared to die at any time, isn’t that so?”

“For the cause!” Hala spat back. “Not for this! Not for The Family’s convenience.”

“And how exactly are those different?” he asked. “Please make the right choice. If I’m not mistaken, there are … two little ones at home? Is that correct?”

“You wouldn’t!” she said. But of course, she knew that they would.

“Hala.” Tariq was there now, and as he spoke, there was more clarity in his voice than she’d heard in days. Maybe ever. “We have to, Hala. Fahd and Aamina will be taken care of. Your parents —”

“This can’t be happening!” she said.

“I won’t warn you again,” Jiddo told them.

Like something out of a waking nightmare, she watched as Tariq reached over and took the capsules from the other man. He pressed one into her shaking palm and closed her fingers around it. Then he kissed her, unapologetically. There were tears in his eyes, but love as well. So much love.