Moments later, Malik called from jail. His name was on a very short list of acceptable callers that Brad had given the hotel.

“Amira, why did you do it? Another day or two and it would have been over. We were winning, I could feel it.”

“I’m sorry, Brother. I know you were doing it for me. But I just couldn’t let you. And I had to stop lying sometime. For myself.”

“Who answered the phone?” The protective big brother, even from behind bars.

“Brad Pierce. You’ll meet him.”

“Ah, Baby Sister, you’ve been holding out on me. Bring him to court tomorrow.” Jenna could picture his mischievous smile. The man was irrepressible.

After Malik’s call, Brad had a long talk with someone in Washington, D.C. “A friend of mine,” he explained. “Known him since we were kids. He’s pretty high up in the State Department these days. I’m worried about your immigration status—Karim’s as well—so I thought I’d try to head off trouble before it starts.”

In all the madness, Jenna had forgotten completely about the fact that she was in the United States on fraudulent terms. “You mean they could deport me?” “They won’t. If worse comes to worst, there are a couple of congressmen who’d be only too glad to do me a favor.”

She let it go. It was all becoming very distant, anyway. She was exhausted.

She closed her eyes.

Someone was pulling at her. “… to bed,” Brad was saying. “What about you?”

“A few more calls. I want to get some security people down here from our California division. Toni and Jabr need rest, too.”

She kissed him, bumbled off to bed without even washing her face, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

O

A cordon of police lined the courthouse steps. As Brad hurried Jenna to the building, she was astonished to hear cheers from the crowd. A group of women on the sidewalk lifted signs; some read “We’re with Jenna,” the rest, “We’re with Amira.”

Malik was seated with Rosalie and J.T. at the defense table. He turned to smile at Jenna, looked Brad over for a long moment, and nodded. After a long delay, the judge appeared and immediately summoned the defense lawyers and Jordan Chiles into his chambers. When they emerged a half hour later, J.T. was grinning broadly, and Rosalie was looking as elated as she was ever likely to. Chiles, scowling, glanced at Jenna with daggers in his eyes.

The judge explained that unofficial developments outside the courtroom normally had no effect on a case in progress. However, he had learned that at least two jurors had become aware of Jenna’s interview with Manning. In his judgment, their knowledge would have to be considered prejudicial.

Therefore, he was declaring a mistrial. He gave the prosecution seven- ty-two hours in which to decide whether to file new charges.