By the time they came off the plane into the heat and humidity of Cambodia, John was exhausted, partly by the stress of the trip and his inability to sleep for more than short bursts, but more because of his continuing recollection of what had happened to him at Auschwitz and what he feared was going to be repeated somewhere outside the city of Phnom Penh. Still, he knew that his life might depend on his being as alert as possible, and he struggled with only limited success against the lethargy that seemed to have seeped into his very bones.
He and Amy stood in the customs line watching their fellow passengers as they had done in each of the airports they had flown through, looking for anyone who was paying too much attention or any sign they were being followed. Echoing Lisa Giles, Czar
