Sayid found nothing in Cairo. No one had seen or heard from Nadia or Assef, or so they said. After that trips to Syria and Turkey had also turned up little beyond vague recollections of a woman who might have been Nadia, but just as likely was not. Before he knew it, six months had gone by. He was frustrated and discouraged. Then a phone call from Hassan gave him hope.

"How I had forgotten this, I do not know." Hassan told him. "Blame an old man's failing memory. I was looking through some old photographs and I remembered. Nadia's mother had a younger sister, Leila. She left Iraq a long time ago, married an Egyptian. They live in Alexandria. If Nadia did not go to her, she may have at least contacted her somehow.

"Do you have a phone number, or an address?"

"No, but her husband's name was Zayed, I think his first name is Amir, but I am not sure. They are, or were, quite wealthy and well-connected. It should not be hard to find them."

Hassan was right. When Sayid reached Alexandria, it took him only an hour at the local post office to find the address. A woman answered his knock. If he had ever wondered what Nadia would look like as she aged, he wondered no more. This woman was obviously Leila. She looked at him curiously.

"Can I help you?"

"My name is Sayid Jarrah." He said. "I am looking for Nadia"

"How do I know you are who you say you are? Show me some proof." She eyed him suspiciously

He took out his passport and showed her.

"You have been many places in a short time. Come in."

They walked through an inner courtyard to a small living area.

"I cannot be too careful. Please, sit down." The woman said. "I am Leila Zayed, but I am sure you know that."

Sayid sat, scanning her face. Obviously she knew somethingbut what?

"Nadia was here." She began. "But it became necessary for her to leave. I am afraid I cannot tell you much more than that."

"When? Why did she leave?"

"She left over a month ago. Why...well, it was risky for her to be here anyway. Assef was bound to think of me eventually. She is frightened and concerned for your safety as well as her own. She would not tell me where she was going from here."

It was impossible to hide his disappointment. "I thought you would know..."

"I wish I could tell you more." Leila said. "She did talk of London several times. I think that she knows some people there. I don't remember any names she mentioned, but my husband might. Stay, have dinner with us. Perhaps Amir will be able to help you."

He stayed to meet Amir, but the man could not recall anything specific either, although he agreed that London was a good possibility. He gave Sayid the names of several friends there. "They may be able to put you in contact with the right people." He told him.

He thanked them and returned to Jordan to collect some things and make arrangements to go on to London. When he arrived ,in Amman Jalal greeted him with the news that Hassan had died of a heart attack. Although the bank account Hassan had set up for him was large, Sayid knew it would not last forever. He would need to find work at some point

In London, Amir's friends were certain that Nadia was there. Jalal warned him that Assef had also traveled to London, which made Sayid more certain that she was indeed there, somewhere. He stayed in London almost six months, making contacts with people in the Muslim community, but she never turned up again..

The extended time in London completely drained Hassan's account. Anymore searching would need to wait until he could find work.

A friend in Cairo with an electronics business offered him repair work so he returned to Egypt. As more time went by the same friend often tried to distract him with party invitations and introductions to young women, which didn't interest him in the least. It wasn't that he didn't wish for companionship, but rather that these were not the kind of women who would tolerate his continuing search. And he was not about to give it up. Occasionally he would meet a more modern sort of woman, and he had no trouble with a certain level of intimacy, as long as she understood the ground rules. But his heart was not in it and these relationships never lasted long.

"Why do you continue with this?" His friend asked. "Does it ever occur to you that maybe she does not want to be found?"

It did occur to him, but it wasn't something he wanted to consider.

For awhile he went back to Alexandria. He liked the area, and Amir was able to find him steady work. He held on to the hope that Nadia would contact her aunt, but if she did, Leila kept it in confidence. . While doing some electrical work for a local resort, he fell into a relationship with the manager, an American woman. He allowed himself to stop searching and attempted to put the past behind him. After more than a year he had gone so far as to apply for a work visa to accompany her back to the United States when she asked him if he loved her. Being honest, he gave an honest answer. It wasn't the answer she was looking for, and she returned home alone.

He went back to searching and learned to live without attachments. He left Egypt and rarely contacted Jalal in Amman anymore. He picked up odd jobs here and there, someone always needed something fixed and he was good with mechanical things. The search became a way of life. The idea of finding her was as abstract and unreachable as the paradise described by the mullah in the mosque of his childhood. If he stopped searching, who would he be?

He continued to travel, over the next several years, to Algeria twice ,to Morocco, back to Turkey, and eventually to Spain. It was in Spain that he got the tip which took him to back to London. His passport was eyed more suspiciously in the post-9/11 world and he was not surprised to be detained. He was surprised however, that it was the Americans, and not the British authorities who wished to question him. He had never even been to the U.S. What could they possibly want from him? The two agents looked up as he was led into the room.

"Mr. Jarrah." The man said. "I'm Robert Hewitt. ASIS, and this is Agent Cole from the CIA. I think we can help each other."

Hours later Sayid looked again at the photos the American agent had given him, reassuring himself that it was really her. It seemed unimaginable that his search might actually come to an end soon. He was not certain about what he had agreed to do for the Americans and even if he succeeded questions bombarded him. Would she want to see him? Did she still feel the same or had she put the past and everything between them behind her? Would all the searching be worth it? He glanced one last time at the pictures then he replaced them in his pocket and settled into his seat. He might as well sleep. It was a long flight to Sydney.

"