Sadiq asked for another cigarette. One of the youths laid a whole pack down in front of him. He continued, “Do you know why I ended up in that hellhole? My son-in-law wanted me dead. He wanted me gone, so I wouldn’t be able to save my daughters. Anyway, enough about what has been,” Sadiq said. “Now we need to find a way to free my daughters.”
There was silence in the room, everyone waited for someone else to speak up.
“We need a good plan,” Osman said. “In the meantime, you have to leave. This is not the right time to continue searching. These are troubled times and it is not safe for you here. ISIS has taken control of almost all of Atmeh…”
That same night a pickup pulled up outside the house to drive Sadiq to the border via the olive grove where he had crossed over the first time. As he was getting into the vehicle, Osman called out to him.
“You won’t get into Turkey with that.” He smiled, pointing at the assault rifle Sadiq had over his shoulder.
Sadiq slung it off and handed it to Osman. “It’s a gift to you and your family. Take good care of it.”
He turned to the street, where two vehicles were approaching at full speed. They had black flags fixed to the roofs. The cars roared toward where they stood. Finished, Sadiq thought. I’m finished. It’s over. All his strength deserted him.
The cars sped past, skidding to a stop at a gate farther along the street. Masked men jumped out, kicked the door in, and stormed inside.
Survey. Monitor. Abduct. Eliminate. The plan was working.
21
HOME
“Did you send someone to kill Dad?”
Ismael typed in the question to his sister. He was shaken after his father told him about what had happened to him in captivity. Ayan’s husband had been the one responsible for his imprisonment, torture, and attempted murder, according to his father.
There was no reply.
After crossing the border into Turkey, Sadiq had wandered about in Hatay for a couple of days contemplating whether to go back and make another attempt to rescue his daughters or to go home and gather his strength. He chose the latter.
When he landed in Oslo, he felt like being stretchered off the airplane, and as the airport train neared his stop in Sandvika, his emotions welled up. Norwegians think we immigrants have no feelings for this country, he thought, as he got into a taxi and gave the driver his address. But he, he loved Norway.
Sara. Ismael. Jibril. Isaq. They hugged him where he’d been beaten. When he cuddled up to Sara that night in bed, he felt like a small child who had finally found his mother.
Sara had been through the worst time of her life. Worse than during the civil war in Somalia, worse than when Sadiq went on ahead to Norway, worse than her arrival in that ice-cold country. Following her last conversation with Ayan, when she had pleaded with her daughter to return home with her father and had found out Ayan was married, her existence had become a blur. She had not heard any more from her daughters or from Sadiq. She feared the three of them were dead. Perhaps they had been shot, all of them together? Perhaps their bodies had been left in the desert to rot in the scorching sun? Had her boys become fatherless?
Every day, she was terrified that Child Welfare would turn up and take Jibril and Isaq. She had to make it look as though she was a mother who could handle her situation.
She felt a huge sense of relief when Sadiq finally phoned. You’re alive!
But despair was quick to take hold again. He had made it out alone. The girls were still with that dangerous group.
* * *
“Turn on your TV!” Ela wrote.
It was early December and the evening news had just begun.
“Holy shit!!!!!” Ivana texted back. “Wow, I actually realized it just now!”
“Me too. It’s unbelievable. Should we drop in on her family tomorrow? Just to, you know, show our support?” Ela asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve never really spoken to them that much. Not sure I want to pop by. Or if it’s appropriate seeing as they’re trying to keep everything on the down low.”
“Yeah, I get you,” Ela replied. “I wouldn’t know what to say anyway.”
They had been inseparable. Now Ela was singing in a pop band. Ivana was soon off to Australia to study. Ayan had gone to take part in a holy war.
Teenagers in their bedrooms in Bærum pored over the media coverage. On the Facebook page that Leila’s class had retained, a new thread appeared.
Leila has been hurt
physically?
yeah, she’s been shot
ohmygod
is it on the news?
yeah
Amal told me a week ago that Leila had been shot but I didn’t believe it
VG reports that their
