Rushing forward and directly into a thick row of bushes, Eshe pushed inward and settled to the ground, hiding, panting and peering out through a mass of large dark leaves.

There was nothing but silence and crickets, no movement of any kind—until suddenly she heard a man’s voice in the distance.

She crawled forward until she found a line of sight with two men standing near a large vehicle in the distance.  Like the one she’d ridden in from the plane, it was silver and gleaming beneath an overhead light.  Both men were talking to one another, with one eventually laughing at something the other had said.

There was nowhere she could see to go except one of the other buildings or a different patch of bushes.  But there was nothing to suggest she might find help anywhere.

Eshe wondered how long it would take for them to find her room empty and begin searching for her.

***

On the other side of the estate, Mido Saad stared at the object in his hands, turning it over and opening one of the covers before casually fanning through its loose pages.

“This is it.”

Khoury, his chief of security, nodded.  “Retrieved from the fiancé’s vehicle.”

Saad stopped and studied one of the pages.  Financial statements for some of his old companies.  Entities that had long since been liquidated.  He then continued, moving to another and then another.

The young woman had more information on him than he’d expected.  Much more.  And much more harmful than others had in the past.

Yet, it wasn’t until he neared the end that his expression changed from curiosity to mild panic.

There were articles—dozens of articles about the catastrophes spanning back to the 60s, each one to which Saad had been connected beginning with Peru.

How had she found this?  How did they know about the accidents?

He continued leafing, carefully now, when the articles finally stopped and gave way to the last few sheets of paper.

Maps.

Saad moved and sat down weakly onto a wooden slatted bench nearby beneath the ambient glow of the giant interior windows behind him.

He had completely underestimated them—both the journalist and her fiancé.

Saad returned to the front of the folder and began going through it again, this time slower.  There were letters from people connected to some of the original companies.  There were financials, along with accompanying labor reports from the government, including copies of real estate deeds.

“These must have been from the woman’s friend,” Saad said.

“Her sister-in-law.”

“And the condition of her sister-in-law now?”

“She’s gone,” replied Khoury.

“Gone?”

“Permanently.”

“And the journalist?”

“We nearly had her at the hospital and are searching again.  It won’t be long.”