Her plan was to make her way slowly to the US embassy by the time it opened, and to sit in the visa waiting area until someone noticed her. It was the best way not to be arrested by the Greeks or the Russians, but to be on sovereign American soil, and hopefully safe. It would also buy David some time to disappear. She figured that with all the sirens at the recent blast site, the number of police out looking for her might be halved or better.

She wandered Monastiraki as the moonlight faded and the slow rise of the sun started to brighten the sky. Shopkeepers were already sweeping the areas in front of their shops, slopping water over the sidewalks to get rid of take-out food remnants that partiers had dropped on the ground. If she wasn’t so scared about what might happen to her in the next day or so, she could enjoy this time of day. The temperature was much cooler, and the air drier and fresher.

She pushed on through the back streets toward the National Archaeological Museum, a good mile or so away from the sirens and David. She’d stayed near there in a bed and breakfast when she had been studying at the American Archaeological School. She was familiar with the streets and rhythm of the day there. Also, her favorite coffee shop would be opening soon.

She hoped he would forgive her for leaving, but it was a matter of life or death for her that he not be involved anymore. It wasn’t until he’d made fun of her when she mentioned marriage, that she realized he’d never made fun of her before…never really cracked a joke even. Until then. And she’d understood how hard he’d been working at keeping focused. He was great at his job—and in some ways she could see that it had been his salvation—and she wasn’t going to allow him to lose it over her.

People started to populate the streets, and storefronts started to open, including her favorite coffee hangout. It wasn’t really a hangout in the normal sense, it was a place with no chairs, just stand-up tables and a bar where people ordered their strong coffee and a pastry and watched a tiny TV screen in the corner as they drank and ate. Starbucks it was not. Most people stayed for no more than five minutes unless they were chatting to someone.

She slipped in an asked for an espresso and an egg custard pastry. The barista wasn’t the same one who’d been there a few summers ago, but then Molly didn’t really feel like catching up right now. She took her breakfast to one of the tables and sipped the hot brew. The news was playing on the television, and as she ate, she watched the footage of the explosion.

It had been at the Russian embassy. Her heart sank. She couldn’t imagine anything worse, although thankfully it seemed no one was in the building at the time, except a security guard. She wondered if they were going to blame it on America, as they had before.

She took a bite of her still warm pastry and chewed slowly. Vanilla cream flooded her mouth with memories of better times. And then she choked. She couldn’t imagine anything worse than the embassy being bombed? She could now. She inhaled and choked on a tiny piece of flaky pastry as her face flashed up on the TV screen. She didn’t understand much—her modern Greek language was really rusty, but she didn’t really have to. David’s photo flashed up beside hers, and an icy cold dread washed over her. It wasn’t just America that was being blamed, it was David and her specifically. And she’d left David without him knowing. What were the odds that he’d find himself somewhere with a TV? Shit. What had she done? She cleared her throat to try to get the remaining dry crumbs out of her throat, and noticed the barista was on the phone. He was ignoring four or five customers. How long had he been on the phone? Could he be…?

He looked at her, then averted his eyes quickly. Sirens sounded close by. Adrenaline rushed through her as she dropped her pastry and ran. Ran away from the sound of the sirens, and toward a residential area. Suddenly a silent police car pulled out of a side street with only its blue light flashing.

Crap. She dodged down an alley and booked it to the next intersection, straight across that one-way street and down another alley running diagonally. She heard squealing brakes, but she didn’t look around. The roads were getting busier now, and it became harder to run past the other pedestrians without banging into them and creating more of a spectacle.

She tried to walk at the same cadence as the fastest walkers, trying to blend in, as David had showed her. She grabbed the light shawl out of her bag and draped it over her shoulders. At least if anyone was looking for a woman in a yellow sundress, they wouldn’t see enough of the top half to recognize the color.

Two police cars swung around a corner and started to sweep either side of the road, driving slowly, looking at everyone’s faces. Shit. Shit. Shit.

A short alleyway loomed ahead, and she took it slowly, not looking around as she so desperately wanted too. Look straight ahead. Look straight ahead.

As she turned the corner onto a new street, she dared look back down the alley. Two police officers were following her on foot, and when they saw her face, they started running.

How long could she be Greece’s most wanted? Where was she supposed to run to? She took off, thankful that she was wearing sneakers and not flip-flops. Sirens came from the right, so she veered left. Suddenly an SUV with tinted windows screeched to a halt in front of her. Her heart sank. Okay, she couldn’t run anymore.

The driver wound down his window. Holy crap. A familiar face at last. A friendly familiar face. “What…?” Molly said.

“Get in. I’m just glad I found you.”

Molly’s heart pounded with relief. “Sure. I’m so happy to see you.”

“Me too. You have no idea. Get in the back so you can hide.”

Molly looked around for police, who seemed to be in the next street along, and opened the door. The Russian was in there with his gun pointed at her face.

“Get in, Ms. Solent, and you might live a short while.” All she could see was the shiny gray gun. She took one step backward and the driver door opened.

Her spine seemed to fold in on itself, as she registered a pinprick. Through her blurry focus she saw hands pushing her uncompliant legs into the car.

Shi…

He was absolutely going to kill her when he found her. David paced the streets, knowing full well that it would take a miracle to find her in this maze of a city. The heat swarmed the streets like thermals in the morning sun, deliberately finding him and making him sweat. Not that Molly’s disappearance couldn’t make him sweat enough anyway. Damn her. What was she planning to do? Turn herself in to the Russians? The Greek police, who were keen to appease the Russian government? The US embassy? David wasn’t entirely sure that they wouldn’t throw her under the bus to avoid a huge diplomatic catastrophe. No, he corrected himself. It was more than just diplomatic now. He suspected that this kind of incident at a G20 meeting, could do nothing less than take them to war if the Russians found any evidence of foul play.

He really only had one play left. And that was far from a sure thing. Damn it all to hell. Damn Molly all to hell. What had she been thinking?

He slipped the battery back into his phone and called the number on Brandon Peterson’s card. It was a long shot, since it must be nearly eleven p.m. in DC. The call was picked up immediately.

“Mr. Peterson’s office,” a soft voice said.

“Can you patch me through to him please? It’s important.”

“Who is this please?” the voice asked with a hint of stress showing.

“I’m in Athens, and I think we both know that he is not sleeping. He has a broken nose, and I suspect he’s been waiting for my call.” That was a total shot in the dark too. But he couldn’t imagine for a moment that this wasn’t already a huge topic of conversation in the State Department.