Book 4, Heimdallr
Chapter 8AVXHIU WAS IN UPROAR. There was no way she could sit still and wait for Rakipe to return. Anything was better than this suspense. She moved along the tiled walls. Her palm traced their coolness and familiar cracks.
Wallenbergi was in Tirana. He had come to get her. He had shown Rakipe her passport. She had no passport. But this one had her name and picture in it. She sprawled on the floor, swung her legs in the air. Solitary confinement made her behave in funny ways.
“Wallenbergi,” that was what Mayer had told her as he died. Could he get her abroad with the foreign police looking for her? Could he bribe them? A new idea hit and curdled her thoughts. She made a bundle of herself on the disheveled bed. Could he be a conman like the NATO spy? She was out of bed,
