Page 30 of Eight Years (The Trident Trilogy 1)

“No, Amar. He’s not dead.”

“I have not seen him,” he says, looking down.

“That might be true, but I know you’ve talked to him. I’ve been following you for months now. All those burner phones you drop in the trash. I have those now.”

He pushes his chair back from the table like he’s trying to distance himself from that information. He’s really not good at this.

“I know you saw one of my colleagues grab your phone from the trash last week. He covered it pretty well, so you just let it go. You should have gone with your instincts. You could be in Afghanistan with Sayid by now.”

He looks down again, staring at his feet.

“Here it is, Amar. Your wife and kids are at home right now. Your neighbors saw you leave with us. Do you think that’s going to get back to Sayid? I’m going to say it will. And then what happens to your family? You’re his best childhood friend, so Sayid might not kill them, but he’s changed a lot since you knew him. So, I’d say there’s about a 60/40 chance that they’re dead before we’re even done talking. I have people standing by that can get them. Bring them here.”

“I don’t know where he is.” He sighs as he looks up. I sincerely feel sorry for him, which doesn’t happen much. There’s something about him that I can’t quite put my finger on.

“But, you have talked to him,” I say.

“Yes,” he whispers.

“And, you don’t know where he is?”

“I swear I don’t. He doesn’t say, and I don’t ask. I don’t want to know. I haven’t see him in twenty years.”

“But, he still calls you. Why?”

“I don’t know. A few months ago, right after I moved back to Sarajevo, a man handed me a phone, and told me to answer it when it rang. I did, and it was Sayid. Until that moment, I really did not know if he was dead or alive. We talked about nothing that day—about childhood and things we had done when we were boys. When he was done talking, he told me to throw away the phone, and he would be in touch again. Someone has handed me a phone about every month since then. The people come out of nowhere. There’s no pattern. They just appear.”

“And, he’s never discussed where he is, what he’s doing now?”

“Never, not once. I don’t ask. He just reminisces. About childhood. Telling the same stories over and over again. I just listen. Like a therapist. I don’t want to talk to him. I know what he’s become. But, what choice do I have?”

I’m done. I have the information that I wanted from him—that Custovic is still alive. I believe he’s telling the truth about not knowing where he is.

“I’ll have our people pick up your family. They should be here in a few hours. You’ll need to decide if you want to stay in Sarajevo or go somewhere else. I know it might be dangerous for you if Custovic finds out you talked to us. We can take you back to Spain or somewhere else if you want that.”

As I start to stand up, he reaches suddenly across the table and grabs my arm. As Mason charges into the room, I just barely hear Petrovic say, “You know he looked for you for months. We all did.”

Mason grabs him and throws him against the wall, pinning him there with his hand to his throat.

“Mason!” I’m trying to process what Petrovic just said, while keeping Mason from killing him. “Mason, that’s not necessary. I’m fine.”

“He doesn’t touch you, and that’s not your call,” he says as he eases up on Petrovic’s throat slightly. Petrovic gasps for breath when his throat is free.

“I’m done here anyway,” I say, trying to stay calm as I walk out. The guard looks at me like I should have known better. I glare at him and keep walking.

“Handcuff him to the table right now,” I hear Mason say to the guard as I walk away.

“Millie,” Mason says, following me.

I turn around to face him. “What the hell was that?”

“He reached for you. I reacted. I thought he was going to hurt you.”

“He reached over to touch my hand to thank me for bringing his family here to him.”

“I didn’t know that. You turned off the sound. Why did you do that?”

“I don’t have to explain my interrogation tactics to you. And, don’t you ever interrupt me like that again.”

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