“We should split up.” Huda’s heart thumped with each step across the cobblestones. “I’ll take the Abu Ghraib expressway. You take Urdun Street.”

In the Land Cruiser, Huda and Ally waited in silence as the Volvo pulled away from the curb in front of them. A flash of yellow moved in the rearview mirror. Huda watched the reflection of a long, low sedan sail through the cross street behind them. It was a Chevy, not an Oldsmobile—but something about the driver’s profile made Huda’s heart jerk in her chest. She put the Land Cruiser into gear and jammed her foot on the gas.

“Careful!” Ally clutched the dash.

Huda turned right at the first corner, then right again. In her mind she saw the driver of the Chevy doing the same, drawing ever closer. Ally glanced over her shoulder.

“Did you see something?”

“I’m not sure.”

“This is insane.” Ally kneaded her temples. “I should never have agreed to this.”

High walls and locked gates flashed by in a blur. Huda wrenched the wheel. The Land Cruiser bounced through a trash-strewn alley.

“What did the man you saw earlier look like?” Huda grit her teeth as they hit a pothole. “Did you see his face?”

“He was about my age. He had dark hair, dark eyes, a fat mustache.”

“That could be anyone.”

“He looked familiar.” Ally twisted about. “Actually, he looked like one of the men who trailed me to the embassy. Remember? It was right before I hired Abdul Amir.”

“Stay calm,” said Huda. “We just need to stick to our plan.”

She rolled to a stop at a broken traffic signal—slowly, obediently, like a loyal citizen should—then she turned the wheel and accelerated toward the Abu Ghraib expressway. Ally closed her eyes and clutched her seat belt at her chest. Huda hoped she was praying for them.

* * *

The soldier swaggered toward the Land Cruiser. Two more soldiers watched from the sandbagged checkpoint, skinny young boys like him, with Kalashnikovs dangling at their bony hips.

“Stay calm,” whispered Huda.

She lowered the window. A hot, grainy wind swept into the cabin and ruffled her hair.

“As-salaam alaikum.” She smiled at the soldier. “We’re with the Australian embassy. The deputy ambassador’s wife is making a visit to Jordan.”

The soldier stared at Ally, eyes wandering up and down.

“Australian, did you say? Where’s her identification?”

Huda flipped open the glove box, removed Ally’s passport and travel permit, and passed the documents through the window. The young man snatched them from her hand and sauntered back to the guard post.