Adam didn't move. He looked at the woman. He remembered her from his father's funeral. She had been a cub reporter then, crying by the graveside.
He held up a hand, palm out. Stop.
Leila stared at him, taking in the scar on his neck, the tactical gear, the coldness in his eyes. "I got your email. I came here to investigate. I didn't expect... you."
Adam pointed to the door behind her. He needed to leave. Now.
"I called the police," Leila said, her voice trembling. "Before I came in. Benali is on his way."
Adam froze. That was a complication.
"Give me the book, Adam," Leila said, stepping forward, her resolve hardening. "They killed my father too. Did you know that? He was a clerk at the port. He found out about the trafficking. Karim had him killed a year after your family. We're on the same side."
Adam looked at her. He weighed the options. He could knock her out and run. Or he could use her.
He walked over to the desk. He ripped a page out of the ledger— the page with Benali's bribes—and handed it to her.
Then, he pointed to her camera bag.
"You want me to film you?" she asked.
Adam nodded. He stepped back, into the center of the room. He unmasked himself, pulling down the shemagh. He faced the camera, holding the ledger up.
Flashback: The Monastery. Year 12."Why do you fight?" the monk asks. Adam writes on a tablet: Justice. "No," the monk says. "You fight because you are the echo. You are the sound they tried to silence. Make them hear you."
Adam looked into the lens. He didn't speak. He just opened the ledger, showing the pages to the camera. Then, he pointed to the scar on his throat.
The message was clear: The silent witness speaks.
"Got it," Leila whispered, lowering the camera. "Go. I'll hold them off."
Sirens wailed in the distance, getting closer.
Adam grabbed his gear. He looked at Leila one last time, nodded, and dove out the open terrace door into the darkness of the garden, just as the front gates crashed open.