if I go back to him without you.’
Nina spotted the glistening line of a tear on her cheek. ‘Are you crying?’
Miriam hurriedly wiped her face. ‘I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry . . .’
The redhead’s annoyance changed to concern. Her visitor was upset, even afraid. Nina went to her. ‘Are you okay? Your Prophet, Cross – will he hurt you if I don’t go with you?’
She was genuinely shocked at the suggestion. ‘No, no, of course not! It’s just . . . I don’t want to let him down.’
‘Were you standing outside the door this whole time?’
Miriam nodded. ‘I didn’t want to make you mad, especially as you’re with child.’
‘Trust me, you’re way down the list of things that have spiked my cortisol levels in the past twenty-four hours.’ She glared at the nearest camera. ‘So, what,’ she told her watchers, ‘you send this poor girl to get me as part of some emotional blackmail plan? Jesus!’
Miriam’s mouth fell open in shock, this time at the blasphemy. Nina gave her an irritated look. ‘I’m guessing you’re not from New York if something that mild upsets you. All right, okay, I’m coming,’ she told the camera with a frustrated shrug. ‘First things first, though.’
‘What?’ asked Miriam.
‘I need to pee. Maybe that’s over-sharing, but I really don’t care.’ She disappeared into the bathroom, leaving the blushing woman staring after her.
After an unrushed break, Nina re-emerged to find her guest still waiting. She gathered her papers. ‘Okay, let’s go.’
Miriam led her out of the house and through the Mission. She was silent to begin with, only piping up very quietly about halfway down the street of little houses. ‘Ulysses.’
‘What?’ said Nina.
‘Ulysses, Kansas. That’s where I’m from. Well, not the actual town – I grew up on a farm about ten miles away. So no, I’m not from New York.’
‘Yeah, I’d guessed.’
‘But I always wanted to see it. It looks amazing. Scary, though. Isn’t there a lot of crime?’
Nina made a sarcastic sound. ‘Sure, if you hop in your time machine and go back to the seventies. You aren’t going to get stabbed in the middle of Times Square in broad daylight. Probably.’
‘Okay . . .’ was the uncertain reply. ‘I’d still like to go one day, though.’
‘What’s stopping you? You’re not a prisoner here, are you?’
‘Of course not! I came here by my own choice, to follow the Prophet.’ She smiled and gestured at their sunny surroundings. ‘It’s lovely here. And I’m with friends who think the same way I do. Why would I want to leave?’
‘I can think of a few reasons,’ said Nina, regarding the nearest set of security cameras. ‘So where is here?’
Miriam opened her mouth to reply, then clapped it shut. ‘I, uh . . . I’m sorry, but I was told not to tell you anything about the Mission.’
‘But we’re somewhere in the Caribbean, right?’
She clenched her hands in agitation. ‘I’m sorry, really I am, but I can’t tell you.’
‘You do know that I didn’t come here by my own choice? I was kidnapped, Miriam – that’s a federal offence, and every country in the Caribbean, even Cuba, has an extradition treaty with the US. Anyone who’s involved in keeping me a prisoner here will be counted as an accessory. That’ll get you a minimum thirty years in a federal prison.’ She had no idea if that were true, but could tell from Miriam’s alarm that she had made her point. ‘You realise that, don’t you? But if you help me get out of here . . .’
Conflict was clear on the young woman’s face. ‘I . . . I’m sorry, but I can’t, I really can’t,’ she said at last. ‘I can’t go against the Prophet. I just can’t! I’m sorry.’
Nina held back her anger. Miriam was genuinely upset at not being able to help, but also unwilling – or unable – to disobey her leader. ‘This Prophet,’ she said instead, changing tack, ‘why do you follow him? What’s he offering
Nina spotted the glistening line of a tear on her cheek. ‘Are you crying?’
Miriam hurriedly wiped her face. ‘I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry . . .’
The redhead’s annoyance changed to concern. Her visitor was upset, even afraid. Nina went to her. ‘Are you okay? Your Prophet, Cross – will he hurt you if I don’t go with you?’
She was genuinely shocked at the suggestion. ‘No, no, of course not! It’s just . . . I don’t want to let him down.’
‘Were you standing outside the door this whole time?’
Miriam nodded. ‘I didn’t want to make you mad, especially as you’re with child.’
‘Trust me, you’re way down the list of things that have spiked my cortisol levels in the past twenty-four hours.’ She glared at the nearest camera. ‘So, what,’ she told her watchers, ‘you send this poor girl to get me as part of some emotional blackmail plan? Jesus!’
Miriam’s mouth fell open in shock, this time at the blasphemy. Nina gave her an irritated look. ‘I’m guessing you’re not from New York if something that mild upsets you. All right, okay, I’m coming,’ she told the camera with a frustrated shrug. ‘First things first, though.’
‘What?’ asked Miriam.
‘I need to pee. Maybe that’s over-sharing, but I really don’t care.’ She disappeared into the bathroom, leaving the blushing woman staring after her.
After an unrushed break, Nina re-emerged to find her guest still waiting. She gathered her papers. ‘Okay, let’s go.’
Miriam led her out of the house and through the Mission. She was silent to begin with, only piping up very quietly about halfway down the street of little houses. ‘Ulysses.’
‘What?’ said Nina.
‘Ulysses, Kansas. That’s where I’m from. Well, not the actual town – I grew up on a farm about ten miles away. So no, I’m not from New York.’
‘Yeah, I’d guessed.’
‘But I always wanted to see it. It looks amazing. Scary, though. Isn’t there a lot of crime?’
Nina made a sarcastic sound. ‘Sure, if you hop in your time machine and go back to the seventies. You aren’t going to get stabbed in the middle of Times Square in broad daylight. Probably.’
‘Okay . . .’ was the uncertain reply. ‘I’d still like to go one day, though.’
‘What’s stopping you? You’re not a prisoner here, are you?’
‘Of course not! I came here by my own choice, to follow the Prophet.’ She smiled and gestured at their sunny surroundings. ‘It’s lovely here. And I’m with friends who think the same way I do. Why would I want to leave?’
‘I can think of a few reasons,’ said Nina, regarding the nearest set of security cameras. ‘So where is here?’
Miriam opened her mouth to reply, then clapped it shut. ‘I, uh . . . I’m sorry, but I was told not to tell you anything about the Mission.’
‘But we’re somewhere in the Caribbean, right?’
She clenched her hands in agitation. ‘I’m sorry, really I am, but I can’t tell you.’
‘You do know that I didn’t come here by my own choice? I was kidnapped, Miriam – that’s a federal offence, and every country in the Caribbean, even Cuba, has an extradition treaty with the US. Anyone who’s involved in keeping me a prisoner here will be counted as an accessory. That’ll get you a minimum thirty years in a federal prison.’ She had no idea if that were true, but could tell from Miriam’s alarm that she had made her point. ‘You realise that, don’t you? But if you help me get out of here . . .’
Conflict was clear on the young woman’s face. ‘I . . . I’m sorry, but I can’t, I really can’t,’ she said at last. ‘I can’t go against the Prophet. I just can’t! I’m sorry.’
Nina held back her anger. Miriam was genuinely upset at not being able to help, but also unwilling – or unable – to disobey her leader. ‘This Prophet,’ she said instead, changing tack, ‘why do you follow him? What’s he offering
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