New Jersey

Next Day

Nara remained silent for most of the bus ride from New York, her attention fixed on the view out of the window. Realizing the depth of the implications, she’d grown ever more certain that the investigation posed a serious threat to their asylum and questioned the wisdom of attempting to expose a controversial case when their lives depended upon the grace of their American hosts. Their actions were wilfully provocative, unwise at a time when their existence was supposed to be secret. What did Leo expect to achieve after sixteen years? There would be no trial, no arrests, his wife’s name would not be cleared – the history books would not be rewritten. Though she had not articulated these thoughts, nor had she tried to talk Leo out of his decision, he clearly sensed her doubts. Perhaps, in turn, she did not oppose his plans because she sensed his own thoughts – a confrontation with Agent Yates was inevitable.

After the discussion at Nelson’s restaurant, Yolande had taken Leo and Nara to her home, allowing them to search through her father’s extensive collection of newspaper articles from the time of the murder, covering the night’s events and subsequent commentary on the killings. Yolande kept the book of clippings as if it were a family album. In some ways it was, since it contained the only photographs she possessed of her father through his years as an activist. Most of the articles Leo had read in the public library but there were some, printed in local newspapers and on protest leaflets, that he’d not encountered. Among them there was one reference to FBI Agent Yates. Yolande argued that the largely absent figure of Yates, missing from the mainstream media coverage, was surely proof that he was involved somehow – it was illogical for such a pivotal officer, a man who’d visited Jesse Austin on the day of his murder, not to feature more prominently. The only article that mentioned Yates had been sent to Nelson by a fellow activist in New Jersey two months after the murder, a small article in a local paper, reporting that Teaneck resident Jim Yates had retired from the FBI due to his wife’s poor health and was planning to spend more time with her. There was a photograph. The article had spun the news like the man was a hero. Nelson had annotated the article with the question:

From what Leo could gather from Nelson’s comments and scribbled remarks that criss-crossed the clippings, the individual responsible was less important to him than the system they were part of. His energies were directed into trying to achieve wider societal change – a dreamer, just like Elena and Jesse Austin. Leo had given up ideological ambitions a long time ago: they had brought him close to ruin just as they had nearly bankrupted Nelson’s business. Dreaming of a better world was not without its dangers.

As the bus approached Teaneck, Nara turned to Leo purposefully. She took a breath, evidently nervous, before saying in Dari:

—You’re leaving us, aren’t you? Don’t lie to me. Just tell me the truth. You’re not staying in the United States? Something has changed.

Leo regretted not confiding in her earlier. She was no longer a naive young student. She demanded to be party to his plans and she had every right to be told the truth.

—The Soviets know about our defection, or at least, they suspect it. My daughters are being harassed. At the moment the measures against them are a warning. Should I not turn myself in, they will be arrested. The only way I can protect them is if I give myself up.

—Who told you that?

—Marcus Greene.

Nara examined the palms of her hands as if the answer were written on them.

—So you would return?

—What choice do I have?

—A return to the Soviet Union might achieve nothing.

—My country is not as it once was. They have no interest in harming my daughters. They are vindictive only if it serves some purpose. If I return, I believe my daughters will be unharmed. I can’t be sure…

—You will be a traitor.

—I am a traitor.

—They will execute you?

—I’m working for the Americans. I’m giving them information that will result in the death of Soviet soldiers.

—Those soldiers are dying because they were sent to Afghanistan, not because of you.

—That is irrelevant. I am a traitor. There is no argument.

—Is your own life so meaningless to you?

Leo thought about the question.

—I see my life only in relation to the people I love.

—You love us?

—Of course.

—But you’ll leave us?

—Nara, I have no choice.

Nara was working hard to keep her emotions in check. She was a mother: she had a responsibility to assess the situation with cool logic.

—Bear in mind if you find Agent Yates that you are leaving this country. We are not. We still have to make a life here. Your actions might have consequences for us.

—I would never allow anything to happen to either you or Nara, just as I would never allow anything to happen to Zoya or Elena.

—Going after Yates will not help your daughters.

—That is true.

—Then why?

—I’m not doing it for them.

—You’re doing it for your wife?

—Yes.

—I don’t believe you. She’s dead, Leo.

—I made a promise to her. I can’t explain it. Nara shook her head.

—You’re not doing this for her. You’re doing it for yourself. Your life is not just about the people you love. It’s also about the people you hate.

Leo became angry.

—Yes, you’re right. When the person you love more than anyone else is murdered then it becomes about hate. I hope you never have to experience that.

Nara turned towards the window. She was angry. Leo was angry too. Was his quest for the killer of his wife a selfish act full of hate and bitterness? It didn’t feel that way, although he could not explain who else might benefit from his actions. The investigation felt vital, as if he had no choice in the matter. He turned away from Nara and the two remained silent until the bus arrived at its destination: the town of Teaneck.