"OK, if you say so. So when do we do it?"
"Tonight." replied Fatima calmly.
Sara's stomach turned over as she experienced a moment of doubt. Should she really do this? Maybe it would be better to stay and wait for Rashid, he insisted there were still complications that were delaying his negotiations with the United States, but it was taking so long ... what if they never came to an agreement? Well, no matter, she was going now, and he couldn't stop her. She hugged Fatima in gratitude.
"Thank you. I'll never forget you for this."
Embarrassed at the show of emotion, Fatima pushed her away.
"It is time. Go now, before it is too late."
With that, Sara took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped out into the corridor. Remembering to keep her head lowered, and to walk with her knees bent, she made her way down the hallway, past the guard. She tried not to appear in a hurry, but the corridor seemed to go on endlessly, then finally it turned, and once around the corner, she slumped against the wall in relief that she had gotten out of sight of the guard.
She willed her legs to stop shaking and forced them to take her to the part of the wall where Fatima said she would find a secret door. It was supposed to be disguised by a mural painted on the wall. And there it was, charging horses carrying fierce Bedouins to battle some invisible foe, their robes flowing freely behind them.
Sara felt for the recessed lever that would open the door, and had just about decided to give up, when finally she felt it. She pressed the small square and heard a click before part of the wall opened just enough to admit her. She peered into the darkness then entered it. The door licked shut behind her, and she felt a moment of panic as the darkness closed in around her. She groped along the cool bricks as a blind person, until she came to a dead end, where she again felt for a recessed lever. She heard the familiar click as she found what she sought, and the wall swung open into a kitchen storeroom. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, and then went out into the kitchen. She did not look around, but walked, head bent, directly for the door as Fatima had instructed.
Once though the door, a feeling of exuberance came over Sara, and she hugged herself under the course fabric of the aba, but before she had a chance to enjoy her freedom too much, she was grabbed by strong arms and thrown into a waiting car. She tried to voice a protest but her words were cut off as a cloth sack was pulled over her head, and she was pushed to the floor of the car.