When I wake up I feel surprisingly well. Much better than I felt leaving for Cairo. I thought I would've been ill, with my head exploding, but I feel good, not so bad, for one single reason. I feel safe.

As I stand up I check my reflection and do the necessary clean-ups. I wash my hair, it takes about 30 minutes , and by then I feel fresh and hungry. A quick call to the number '821' reveals that food is on its swift way. I wait for five minutes and I hear a knock on the door.

"May I come in?" A familiar voice questions.

In silence, I come to the front and open the door. Syl is holding a tray full of freshly made food: two eggs, bread, some vegetables and lavender tea. I am very happy. I thank him sincerely.

"How have I even found you?" I ask joyfully as I sip my tea. Lavender tea always makes me feel serene and comforted.

"Fate, Dixie, fate," Syl says with a genuine chuckle. "You just fell down on us like a meteor from the sky. It was quite satirical, really."

"I honestly didn't know what to do back then," I smile. "I was trying to find some undercover terrorist organization, and then you came in, like some strange party animals. Oops, I didn't mean to say that-"

A sound laughter follows my words.

"It's okay, Dee, it's okay," I smile to myself at the nickname he gave me. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. We were like party animals. And we are party animals, to be honest. Everyone in this life is a party animal, you know," he smiles again, his eyes twinkling with mirth. Now it's my time to laugh too.

After our laughs have subsided, I ask him another question that has been piquing my interest. By his appearance, he doesn't quite seem like an American.

"In this life, you say? Which nationality are you?"

"Serbian," he replies instantly. "Born and raised in Belgrad, then came here. There was a good job offer, didn't wanna miss it."

I perk up.

"I'm Serbian too!" I exclaim. "Was born in Novi Sad, though."

"Well that's splendid," he asserts calmly.

"By the way, about the terrorists," Syl says, grabbing one of my fully sealed water bottles and taking a sip, "we may have gathered some intel on them."

"Intel? But how?" I ask in surprise.

He sets the bottle on the nightstand.

"Many people go here, to our bar. Big and small ones," he explains. "Because they go here, we kindly barter with them for some useful information. Sometimes we get it, sometimes we don't. And today may have been a particularly successful case."

I gape at him. I can't believe it. The tea burns my tongue.

"So you know where they are?"

"Not quite. We're still unsure as to where they are exactly," he replies stroking his chin thoughtfully. "But we know the country. With 80 percent accuracy."

"The country? Where are they?" I inquire. This isn't very important to me after the past events, but, for some reason, I'm becoming invested.

"Romania, I believe. Parker got it from a man called Bernard Klueger,."

"Klueger? the Cairo deputy?" I am surprised. Everyone knows Klueger. He's quite a prominent figure in international politics.

"Yep. He goes here," Syl states. "But he asked Park to keep it entirely confidential, and of course he did. We're one big family, like the Mafia," he adds after a few moments. "We share everything together, our darkest secrets, our women." He says with a smirk. "But jokes aside, the latter are family, too. Some very intelligent, dedicated women. Ones that won't snitch on us. It's interesting to say that about an undercover spy, but I think you'd be an excellent addition to our clan."

An intriguing prospect.

"I'll have to consider that."

"Good. Well, anyway, - we have to start. If you want to catch them on their feet, we'll have to go now."

"We'll? You'll go with me?" I ask hopefully. Of course they won't go with me, they're just some lonely people who run an illegal bar-club-

"-Yes. We'll go with you," he states, confidence in the very essence of his tone. "How do you think you'll do this alone?"

I freeze at the question, unsure of what to say. Without my boss's help, I don't know how I believed I could ever have managed this by myself.

"That's right, you don't know what to say," Syl says, without any reproach. "That's why we want to help you. These guys need to be taken care of. And we won't let such a beautiful, and talented woman fight in vain."

My cheeks flush pink. I am flustered.

"Thanks, Syl," I say shyly. I don't know what to say in such situations, honestly.

"Always. We leave at 8 pm, all the necessary utilities are down the stairs. Our female friends will help you with your luggage. If you have any questions or just want to talk, you are free to come by down to the bar."

I thank him profusely. I have a weakness for compliments, and any kinds of services. Even when I pay money for something, I feel as if I must do something in return. That's a struggle. My colleagues often said that I'm too polite.

A pang of sadness hits me. I don't know if I'll ever get to see them again.

However, I don't have time to think about my feelings. Sylvester says his goodbyes.

"I have a feeling that you'll do just fantastic," he adds, his gaze lingering at me for a second more, and leaves.

I stare at the door, dumbfounded. It feels as if this door has become our wingman, of some sorts.

It has created a start to a potentially wonderful friendship that I'll be more than glad to discover.

***

A flashy-clothed woman helps me with my clothes and other necessities. She's just a girl, about 18 years old, with a big-toothed smile and dimples under her cheeks. I feel a bit downhearted, but I can't stay in pity of her for too long.

Every time I'm bombarded by more and more questions.

What if Val made it to Cairo?

What if PN is searching for me?

What if the moment I step out of the hideout, I'm going to get handcuffed and arrested?

All of these thoughts linger in my head like tenants not paying their long due rent and I try to concentrate on the upcoming journey. My head feels more tired, as it feels the stress has started getting to me. I fight it, and for the first time in years, it surprisingly goes away. Christmas miracle, despite the fact that it's not even December - I know.

[8000 word count]

As I finish packing my bags, I sit down for a little on the edge of the comforter, and take a deep breath. I'm going to stop these terrorists. I'm going to escape Val. I'm going to escape everyone who crosses me.

And then I get a phone call.