Rania said nothing, only turned her cheek and closed her eyes, as if she could wish this all away.

“You and your fancy college friends, you filled my brothers’ heads with your talk of democracy and freedom.” Huda eyed her steadily. “You pretended you were so brave. But in the end, you ran to your daddy and let him fix your mess. You turned your back while my brothers’ bodies were bulldozed into a ditch.”

Rania turned pale as milk. “I can’t help you.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“There’s no opposition left,” she whispered angrily. “They’re all in exile. Or dead.”

“You must know someone.”

“I don’t. I swear. Why don’t you send Khalid to stay with your mother? I sent my own daughter to Basra. It’s safer there.”

“My brothers died in Basra,” said Huda. “And you know the mukhabarat are everywhere.”

“I don’t understand. Why are the mukhabarat so interested in Khalid? What did he do?”

“It’s not his fault.” Huda scowled at the patchy lawn.

Rania tapped another cigarette from her pack.

“When you came here with the diplomat’s wife, I said the mukhabarat would be watching. I told you not to play with fire.” She trained her amber eyes on Huda. After a long moment, she whispered, “Are you working for them? Are you trying to trap me?”

“Of course not,” stammered Huda. “This is no trap.”

“You must be working for them. Why else would you be gadding around with a foreigner? You’re an informant, aren’t you?”

“If I don’t do what they want, they’ll put Khalid in the fedayeen. He needs a passport.”

“It’s impossible,” said Rania. “I can’t do it.”

Huda slammed her palms against the table. The tea glasses jumped.

“You have no choice.”

“Who are you to say what I must do?” said Rania, her face impassive, even as her fingers betrayed her, tying and untying endless, anxious knots. With a start, Huda spotted the pearly scar on her thumb.

“I am someone who knows your secrets,” said Huda. “And if you don’t help, I will tell my handler that you are inciting dissent. I will tell him that I heard you insult the president.”

“That’s a lie.”

“I will tell him that you are encouraging young men to rise up. Again.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” cried Rania.

“My handler will believe what I tell him.” Huda’s heart pounded. “Just like my brothers believed you.”

“They were good men.” Rania shook her head. “What would they think of you now?”

A dizzying cocktail raced through Huda’s veins: anger, adrenaline, grief, guilt.

“Perhaps they would want an eye for an eye. Did you ever consider that?” She set her mouth in a stubborn line. “There’s no one to save you now, Rania. Test me. See how you fare.”

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 11