Conversation. Something to distract. “I’m confused.” He kept his hands on the plywood. Safer that way.
She backed away enough to look at him. “About?”
“The place you were held captive was owned by your friend’s father, right? Iyad Assad?”
It was dark, but he could see enough to know she blinked, her long eyelashes flicking closed and open a couple of times. “How did you know that?”
“After your sister sent me your location, I did some research. I recognized the name when you mentioned it last night. Did you know it had belonged to Heba’s family? Had you been there before?”
“Yes.”
Her answer was terse and surprising. “Then why did you go to her house? Didn’t you realize they’d work against you?”
“She and Mostafa helped me escape Iraq the first time, even though both of their families would have objected. I thought they would help again.”
Wishful thinking, then. Foolish logic that almost got her recaptured.
“You said your father was at the compound?”
She nodded. Her face was angled down, so he couldn’t see her expression.
Was she hiding something? “Is your father the one who kidnapped you?”
Was Vortex her father?
The thought churned in his stomach.
“An old friend of our family.”
“His name?”
“Qasim. Khalid Qasim”
A spark of hope zinged through him. Finally, he had a name—a real name—to attach to Vortex.
To be sure, he said, “About sixty? Gray hair, clean-shaven? He escorted you onto the plane in Munich, right?”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve been looking for you since you disappeared.” Not a complete answer, but maybe she’d accept it.
“You got access to video feeds or something? How?”
“I have a few connections. Was that Qasim?”
She bit her lip, then focused on his chest. “That is him.”
Okay.
Wow.
Leila’s family was associated with Vortex. But how? Were they aware of his links to terrorism? Was Leila?
Was that why she’d been snatched? Did it have nothing to do with Michael?
Or had Qasim discovered that Michael was looking into him and then, in watching him, had found Leila?
Had she been hiding?