Page 44 of Elusive Promise

"Among other things."

"Like…"

"Political science, international studies. I wanted to understand the world that took my mother away."

"Did it help?" She gave him a soft, compassionate look that almost undid him.

Why on earth had he told her about his mom?That had probably been a mistake. But he couldn't take it back.

"Not really," he said shortly, realizing she was still waiting for an answer. He finished off the last spoonful of ice cream and set his bowl aside. "Nothing can really explain away an act of terror. There's no good reason. There's no lesson to be learned from evil."

"I completely understand. I used to try to make sense of an attack that I lived through a very long time ago—the night my parents and I had to leave the Bezikstan embassy while under fire from rebels."

"Tell me about it."

"I was sixteen. I loved our life in Bezikstan. It's a beautiful country, magnificent mountains, clear lakes, colorful people—music, food, and dance. The country is tucked between India, Nepal, and Bangladesh and for hundreds of years it was a peaceful place. We lived at the embassy, and I became friends with the US staffers and also the native Bezikstani people who worked there—the cooks, the housecleaners, the administrative support. I felt like we were all one happy family."

She sat back in her chair, a smile of fond remembrance on her face. "The week before the attack, we'd hosted a party at the embassy. There had been champagne and music, laughing and singing. I wasn't allowed to be at the dinner; it was adults only, but I watched them from behind a heavy curtain. Jasmine and Anika were there, too. We even managed to steal a bottle of champagne. It was almost empty, but there was enough left for us to have a few sips." She laughed. "We thought we were drunk on the bubbles. We were just three silly girls."

"When did you know there were problems?"

"I didn't know most of it until the night we left, but my stepfather had been hearing rumblings for a while. Things were changing. There was income disparity. The government felt elitist to many of its residents. And they didn't like that America was having what they felt was too big of an influence on political matters. They wanted us gone. My stepfather didn't want to shut down the embassy. He thought he could win the diplomatic war if he could keep people talking. But they didn't give him a chance to talk more. They overran the gates one night. There were guns going off, grenades tossed into the courtyard. One of the Marine guards was killed. His name was Stan Sutherland. I still remember him. He used to give me licorice."

She drew in a breath and squared her shoulders, as if battling the pain of her memories. "Anyway, we had to leave through a tunnel. I know—the irony of another embassy tunnel has not escaped me. We ended up in a school yard. We waited there for the helicopter to come and rescue us."

"You were all together, or did Harry stay behind?"

"We were together until the last minute. The helicopter landed, and we were all running toward it. But I stumbled and fell."

He leaned forward, seeing remembered terror in her eyes. "What happened?"

"My parents were busy getting the staff and their families on board. They didn't realize I'd fallen. And then the rebels found us. They started shooting. I froze. I thought I was going to die. But someone grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. He ran me to the helicopter and pushed me on board, just as it was about to take off. He truly saved my life."

"Who was he?"

She stared back at him. "Neil Langdon—Ben's father."

He sucked in a breath. "Really?"

She nodded. "Yes. Neil helped us escape, but he didn't come with us. Neil was a British citizen, and Elizabeth's family lived in Bezikstan, so they felt safe to stay there. It was the Americans the rebels wanted out."

"So, you owe Neil your life." He found that fact to be disturbing. Would Parisa want to protect Neil's son because of what Neil had done for her?

"I do owe him my life," she agreed.

"And you don't want his son, Ben, to be a terrorist."

"I really don't. But…"

He was relieved to hear the word. "But?"

She met his gaze. "I'm not a sixteen-year-old girl anymore. And that bomb blast in Paris killed two people. If Ben knows anything about it, then he needs to share it with the authorities, so the bombers can be brought to justice."

"I'm glad to hear you say that. Because I did get a piece of information while you were sleeping."

She straightened in her chair. "What was that?"

"Sara Pillai used her former roommate's passport to enter the country. She arrived at JFK yesterday morning. She's here in New York City."

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