Larnaca, Cyprus“I
was packing away my things, getting ready to catch the flight to Amman and saw it,” Fatima Osman said into the phone tucked in her shoulder. “I was going to take it down to the disposal office when I just powered it up on a whim.” She popped a hard candy into her mouth and sucked for a while as she pondered the mystery. “All of a sudden, there’s a hit on the Horiya number; a text message from that woman Zana.”
“Oh, my God, Fatima!” Chan stopped preparing the tray in the little embassy cafeteria and sat down at one of the tables. “She survived! What did she have to say?”
“Well, it was all a little stilted. She was using that Arabic to English code we sent her, but the gist of it is that she made it back to Syria. Apparently, she’s OK and out looking for her unit.”
“Did
