Jacob turns to her. He’s scared and stressed. No doubt about that. But he also feels relief, almost joy that it’s so close to being over now. Finally, it’s moving forward. He nods seriously to her. ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Thank you for—’

But he doesn’t get further, because Alexa holds up a hand to stop him. ‘Don’t thank me now,’ she says. ‘Thank me when it’s over.’

He leans over to kiss her cheeks, but she holds him at a distance. ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ she says, opening a hand.

Jacob looks down in confusion at an unopened condom package in her palm. He looks up at her, smiles uncomprehendingly. ‘Well,’ he says. ‘I’m not really in the mood. I don’t even know where Yassim is.’

She laughs and shakes her head. ‘Darling,’ she says. ‘Your little secret? The chip? Did you intend to take it out of Beirut in your pocket?’

‘You mean…’ he begins.

She nods. ‘I mean you’re going to swallow it like a good little drug smuggler, is what I mean.’

*

His mouth still tastes like rubber. It felt like the condom got stuck halfway down his throat, no matter how much water he drank, but swallow it he did. And now he jumps onto the motorcycle behind Bashir, doesn’t even dare to look at him first, just inches closer to Bashir than seems comfortable. Holds his arms tightly around his stiff, red leather jacket and keeps his eyes shut as they speed through the labyrinth of Shatila and out to the real streets and roads.

Before he knows it, they’re on the highway to the airport. When Jacob forces his eyes open, he can see them weaving between honking cars, and he senses the green flags whipping in the darkness above the Hezbollah-controlled suburbs, which are hardly more than shanty towns. This is the last time I’ll see this, he thinks. The last time I’ll travel this stretch. He’s leaving Beirut behind him now. And more than that, he’s leaving his old life here. Everything is new now. Now there is only insecurity and fear. And love. Most of all, there’s love.

At the airport, Bashir finally slows and follows the normal rhythm of the traffic. Then stops at the sidewalk outside the terminal. Jacob loosens his grip around Bashir’s upper body, his arms stiff from holding so tight. He can barely straighten them out. He should say something to Bashir, who’s flipped up the visor of his black helmet and turned around. But Bashir looks past him up the street, and there’s something in his eyes that makes Jacob fall silent.

Slowly, he turns around and sees what Bashir sees.