It’s Julian.

They came for him—and I know exactly who they are.

“It’s Al-Quadar.” My voice is hoarse as I get up, ignoring the tremors that continue to rack my body. “Peter—it’s Al-Quadar.”

He nods in agreement, and I see that he’s already on his phone. “Da. Da, eto ya,” he says, and I realize that he’s speaking Russian. “V gospitale problema. Da, seychas-zhe.” Lowering the phone, he tells me, “I just notified the Uzbekistani police of the events in the hospital. They’re on their way, as are more soldiers. They’ll be there within minutes.”

“It will be too late.” I don’t know where my certainty comes from, but I can feel it deep within my bones. “They have him, Peter. If he’s not dead yet, he will be very shortly.”

He looks at me, and I can see that he knows it too—that he knows how hopeless the whole thing is. We’re dealing with one of the most dangerous terrorist organizations in the world, and they have the man who’s been hunting them down and decimating their ranks.

“We’re going to track them down, Nora,” Peter says quietly. “If they haven’t killed him yet, there’s a chance we may be able to retrieve him.”

“You don’t really believe that.” I can see it on his face. He’s just saying it to placate me. Majid’s people have been able to evade detection for months, and it’s only the lucky capture of that terrorist in Moscow that led to the discovery of their whereabouts. They will disappear again, hiding somewhere else now that they know their location in Tajikistan has been compromised.

They will disappear, and so will Julian.

Peter gives me an indecipherable look. “It doesn’t matter what I believe. The fact is that they want something from your husband: the explosive. They wanted it before, and I’m certain that they want it now. It would be very foolish of them to kill him right away.”

“You think they’re going to torture him first.” Bile rises in my throat as I remember Beth’s screams, the blood spreading everywhere as Majid systematically cut off bits and pieces of her body. “Oh my God, you think they’re going to torture him until he breaks and gives them this explosive.”

“Yes,” Peter says, his gray eyes steady on my face as Ana begins to sob quietly into Rosa’s shoulder. “I do. And that gives us time to find them.”

“Not enough time.” I stare at him, sick with terror. “Not nearly enough time. Peter, they’re going to torture him and kill him while we look for them.”

“We don’t know that for sure,” he says, pulling out his phone again. “I’m going to throw all of our resources at this. If Al-Quadar so much as blips on the radar someplace, we’ll know it.”

“But that could take weeks—even months!” My voice rises as hysteria grabs hold of me again. I can feel my grip on sanity slipping as the roller coaster of grief, joy, and terror I’ve been riding for the past couple of days plunges me into a bottomless pit of despair. It was only yesterday that I thought I’d lost Julian again, only to learn that he’s alive. And now, just when it seemed like the worst was over, fate has dealt us the cruelest blow of all.