It was almost the next morning before we had our first positive update on Natty. They had removed a 9mm bullet and he had lost a lot of blood. But he would recover fairly quickly. Most people didn’t realize that if a bullet didn’t strike an organ or tear up veins or arteries, the victim could deal with daily life in a matter of days. They couldn’t climb Mount Everest, but they could function. The doctor estimated that Natty could return to class in a couple of weeks if he didn’t participate in anything too strenuous.

Alicia popped into Natty’s room just as we heard the good news. I held her as I looked into her eyes. I didn’t say anything. I just kissed her. And she kissed me.

She leaned in and said, “Where has this guy been?”

Before I could come up with a witty reply she said, “I hope you have this kind of energy and interest when I get off work.”

I just smiled. I kept smiling until she went back to her rounds.

Now that I had a pretty good idea of who was trying to screw up my life, I had to make a stop here in Newburgh. My mom refused to leave the hospital until she could talk to a conscious Natty. I borrowed her car and found a convenience store a few miles from the hospital.

There was nothing unusual about the store. It had a couple of gas pumps and a brightly lit interior, filled with the essentials marked up a mere 300 percent. As I pushed through the glass door, a chime announced someone had entered the store.

The clerk turned from whatever he was doing behind the counter and started to greet me. When he looked at my face and recognized me, he froze. I just stared at him.

Then a huge smile spread across his wide, friendly face. He didn’t say a word as he rushed from behind the counter to embrace me.

Finally, he said, “Mitchum, my friend, how are you?”

“I am well, Hassan. And you?”

“My brothers and I are all fine. Thanks to you.”

“Did you or any of the other men from the hidden prison ever testify against the men who held you?”

Hassan shook his head. “Aside from an interview with people from the government the next day, I have heard nothing. No one who was with us has heard anything. And we all stay in touch with each other. My brothers and I were in that hellhole for almost seven months. No one has told us anything other than the money we were sending home went to fund terrorists.”

I wasn’t sure how to phrase this. I thought about it for a moment then just blurted out, “The bald man who ran the prison was not arrested.”

Hassan was floored. All he could manage to say was, “No.”