Brother Peter pulled up alongside and got out. “Well, old frog,” he said, “this seems to be it. I don’t know what you’ve got planned, but be careful about it.”

“And you. Thanks again—for everything.”

“Thank only God, my friend, not his poor servant.”

Philippe turned to Amira. To her surprise, tears were streaming down her face. He held her so tightly it hurt. “Good-bye, my love. I wish … I wish it had been different.”

“It will be different. Everything will be different. But don’t say goodbye, my heart. It’s only au ’voir, isn’t it? We won’t lose each other, will we? Promise me?” “We won’t lose each other. We can’t. Au ’voir. Au ’voir, Amira.” Brother Peter carried Karim to the panel truck. “In here, my lady.” Her eyes met Philippe’s one last time as she wedged herself in with her sleeping son. Then Brother Peter rearranged boxes and blankets, shutting out the world.

“Go first and go fast,” he told Philippe. “I want to be well behind you at Agri.”

She couldn’t make out Philippe’s reply, only the sound of the Land Rover pulling away. In a moment, the panel truck grumbled to life. “Comfy?” called Brother Peter.

“I’m all right.”

“Good. Next stop, Erzurum.”

It was pitch black in Amira’s little cave. Time lost its shape. Had ten min- utes passed? An hour?

“Brother Peter?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you doing this?”

A silence. “Because I believe it’s what God wants me to do.” “You and Philippe must be very good friends.”

Another silence. “I owe him my life—and a great deal more.”

That was all. Much later, Brother Peter said, “Agri,” and the motion of the vehicle changed. After that, there was only a dark eternity.

She woke because they had stopped. A door opened, the blankets flew back, and blinding light flooded in: morning.

“Up front quickly,” ordered Brother Peter. “We’re nearly to Erzurum. There’ll be a checkpoint in a few miles.”

Karim had wet himself in his sleep, but there was nothing to do about it here. Amira, using the truck’s side mirror, freshened up as best as she could.

“Do you have a scarf ?”

“Yes.”

“Use it like a veil. Cover your hair and part of your face. Don’t worry: European women often do it out here. When in Rome, you know.”

Armed soldiers manned the checkpoint. Brother Peter answered their questions in Turkish. One of the men gave an order. Brother Peter slid over on the seat. A soldier opened the door and climbed behind the wheel.

“No fear, Mme. Sonnier,” said Brother Peter, seeing, Amira’s expression. “Erzurum’s a military zone. All foreigners have to be escorted by a soldier. So we have a chauffeur.”

At the airport, she changed an irritable, half-asleep Karim into his one fresh set of clothes. A crackly loudspeaker announced the Ankara flight.