The small village of Mehriz nestled in the valley like a secret, half-hidden by the surrounding peaks. From her vantage point on the switchback road above, Alex could see its cluster of stone houses, the central square with its ancient well, the fields of wheat stretching toward the river to the east.
It looked peaceful. Untouched by the conflicts that had torn apart other regions of the country. But Alex knew better than to trust appearances. The most dangerous places often wore masks of tranquility.
"Stop here," she told her driver. They were still a kilometer from the village proper, but Farsi's instructions had been specific. Approach on foot. Come alone. Avoid being seen.
The driver, a taciturn man named Ramin who had been recommended by one of her more reliable sources, gave her a dubious look. "Not safe for a woman alone."
"I'm meeting someone," Alex said, counting out payment for the journey. "They'll escort me the rest of the way."
It wasn't entirely a lie. Farsi had promised to send someone to meet her at the trailhead marked on the map he'd provided. But whether that person would appear—whether Farsi himself was still alive and free—remained to be seen.
Ramin accepted the money with a nod. "I wait two hours," he said. "No longer."
"Fair enough." Alex shouldered her backpack and stepped out of the SUV. The mountain air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and distant snow. Spring came late to these highlands, lingering winter evident in patches of white on the uppermost peaks.
She waited until the SUV had rounded the bend back toward the main road before consulting her phone. The trail should be just ahead, a narrow path leading down into a ravine that would eventually connect with the eastern edge of the village.
Finding it, she began the descent, careful on the loose scree that threatened to send her sliding. The path wasn't well-maintained, suggesting it was rarely used. Good for avoiding patrols, but hard on her city-softened legs.
Twenty minutes into her hike, a sound stopped her—the distinct crack of a twig breaking underfoot. Not her own step. Someone else on the path, either ahead or behind.
Alex froze, scanning the terrain. The ravine narrowed here, sheer rock walls rising on either side. No cover except for a few scraggly pines clinging to the slopes. She was exposed, vulnerable.
"Ms. Chen," a voice called softly. A woman's voice, accented but fluent in English. "Please continue forward. You are being watched."
Alex hesitated, every instinct screaming danger. But she had come too far to turn back now. She moved forward, following the path as it curved around a large boulder.
A woman stood there, middle-aged, her face weathered by sun and wind. She wore traditional clothing—long skirt, embroidered tunic, head covered with a patterned scarf. Nothing to indicate she was anything other than a local villager.
Except for her eyes. Sharp, assessing, too intelligent for someone who had spent her life in this isolated valley.
"Professor Farsi sent me," the woman said without preamble. "I am Nadia. His associate."
The woman from the compound, Alex realized. The one she had glimpsed through the window in Farsi's study. "Where is he?"
"Securing the final piece of evidence. The courier arrived early." Nadia gestured for Alex to follow her off the main path. "It was not safe to contact you again after the route was compromised. But circumstances have changed. We must move quickly now."
"What circumstances?" Alex asked, following Nadia onto a narrow game trail that snaked up the side of the ravine. It was barely visible, easy to miss if you didn't know where to look.
"The NKVI has sent someone," Nadia said, her voice tight. "An operative from their special division. Javid spotted him yesterday, conducting surveillance of the compound."
Alex felt her heart rate quicken. "How long do we have?"
"Hours, perhaps. No more." Nadia paused, turning to face her. "You understand what's at stake here? This isn't just another story about government corruption or political repression. This is evidence of state-sanctioned mass murder. Of children deliberately targeted to create panic and justify a violent crackdown."
"I understand," Alex said quietly. "That's why I came personally instead of communicating through channels. This needs to be verified beyond any doubt before publication."
Nadia studied her face, as if searching for signs of deception or weakness. Whatever she saw must have satisfied her, because she nodded once, then resumed climbing.
They continued in silence for another twenty minutes, the path growing steeper, more treacherous. Just as Alex's legs were beginning to burn with effort, they crested a ridge and the path leveled out.
Before them stood what appeared to be an abandoned shepherd's hut, stone walls crumbling in places, its thatched roof long since collapsed. But as they drew closer, Alex realized appearances were deceiving. The structure was far more solid than it appeared from a distance, the "damage" carefully constructed to give the impression of abandonment.
Nadia approached the door—a solid piece of wood incongruous with the hut's dilapidated exterior—and knocked in a distinct pattern. Three short, two long, one short.
The door swung inward, revealing darkness beyond. Nadia gestured for Alex to enter first.
Inside, the hut was larger than it appeared from outside, extending back into the hillside. Artificial lighting—powered by what looked like a small generator in the corner—illuminated a space that was part living quarters, part command center. Maps covered one wall, dotted with pins and notations. A communications setup occupied another corner. And in the center, seated at a table strewn with papers, was Professor Javid Farsi.
He looked older than when Alex had last seen him, his beard now streaked with gray, deep lines carved around his eyes and mouth. But those eyes were as sharp and determined as she remembered.
"Ms. Chen," he said, rising to greet her. "I apologize for the change in plans. Events are moving more quickly than anticipated."
"So I've heard," Alex replied, shaking his offered hand. "Nadia mentioned the NKVI has located you."
Farsi exchanged a glance with Nadia. "Yes. A tactical team operative has been conducting surveillance. We expected this, but not so soon. It suggests they know about the courier."
"Speaking of which," Nadia interjected, "we should proceed with the verification. Time is critical."
Farsi nodded, gesturing for Alex to sit. "What do you know about the Azadi Square massacre, Ms. Chen?"
"I was in Jakarta when it happened," Alex said, taking the offered seat. "The official statement claimed it was the work of foreign terrorists attempting to destabilize the regime. Seventeen dead, including four children. The government used it to justify the subsequent roundup of opposition figures and the imposition of martial law in three provinces."
"Seventeen," Farsi repeated, a bitter smile twisting his lips. "The actual death toll was seventy-three. Thirty-two of them children. And it wasn't the work of foreign terrorists, but of our own government. Specifically, the NKVI special operations division."
He opened a laptop on the table and turned it toward her. On the screen was an image—grainy but clear enough to make out a team of snipers positioned on a rooftop overlooking a public square. Their uniforms bore distinctive insignia.
"This was taken by a foreign embassy security camera," Farsi explained. "One of several pieces of evidence I've compiled. But the most damning is this."
He produced a flash drive from his pocket. "This arrived this morning. It contains the actual written order authorizing the operation. Signed by the Interior Minister himself. An explicit directive to target children first in order to create maximum panic and justify a harsh response to 'terrorist activity.'"
Alex stared at the small device, her journalist's mind already formulating questions, seeking angles of verification. "How can you be certain it's authentic?"
"Because it comes from the Interior Minister's own aide," Nadia said. "A man who has finally found the limits of his loyalty to the regime."
"I need to see everything," Alex said, reaching for her recorder. "Every piece of evidence, every document. And I need to understand how it all connects."
Farsi nodded, pushing the laptop toward her. "Of course. We've prepared a complete dossier. But first, you should know the risks. Once this information is published, the government will respond with everything in its arsenal. They will deny, threaten, attempt to discredit both the evidence and those who present it. They may even resort to more... direct methods of silencing the truth."
"I understand the risks," Alex said quietly. "I've been covering this region for years. I know what they're capable of."
"Do you?" Farsi's gaze was penetrating. "Have you ever had to bury a colleague whose only crime was seeking truth? Have you watched as friends disappeared into black sites, never to be heard from again? Have you received pieces of your own research in the mail, along with photos of your family and a simple note saying 'We know where they live'?"
Alex met his gaze steadily. "Yes to the first. No to the others. But I'm not naive, Professor. I know what I'm risking by being here, by pursuing this story."
"And yet you came anyway," Nadia observed.
"Because the truth matters," Alex said simply. "Because those seventy-three people deserve justice. Because if no one speaks for them, their deaths become just another forgotten atrocity in a world already too full of them."
Farsi studied her for a long moment, then nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Very well. Let's begin."
For the next two hours, Alex immersed herself in the evidence Farsi had accumulated. Satellite imagery showing mass graves near military installations in the northern provinces. Testimony from defecting security personnel describing systematic intimidation and elimination of opposition figures. Financial records revealing slush funds used to pay off officials and media outlets. And most damning of all, the official order for the Azadi Square operation, with its cold-blooded directive to create maximum panic by targeting children.
The evidence was meticulously organized, cross-referenced, and annotated. This wasn't just a collection of damning documents; it was a comprehensive case built by someone with an academic's attention to detail and a prosecutor's understanding of what constituted proof beyond reasonable doubt.
"This is... extraordinary," Alex said finally, looking up from her notes. "The level of documentation, the corroboration from multiple sources. This isn't just enough for a news story. This is enough to bring before the International Criminal Court."
"That is the eventual goal," Farsi agreed. "But first, the world must know. Your story will break that barrier of silence."
"I'll need copies of everything," Alex said, already thinking ahead to the verification processes her editors would insist upon. "And direct quotes from you about how this evidence was compiled, your methodology—"
A sudden burst of static from the communications equipment interrupted her. Nadia moved quickly to the console, donning headphones and adjusting dials.
Her expression darkened as she listened. "Perimeter alert," she said, looking up at Farsi. "Someone's approaching from the south ridge."
Farsi's calm demeanor didn't waver, but Alex noticed his hands tense against the tabletop. "How many?"
"Single infiltrator, moving carefully." Nadia adjusted another dial. "Professional. Military or special operations, based on movement patterns."
"The NKVI operative," Farsi concluded. "Sooner than expected."
"We should go," Alex said, already gathering her notes. "Is there another way out?"
"There's an escape tunnel that leads to a ravine on the north side," Farsi said, moving to a cabinet where he began gathering documents. "But we can't leave yet. Not all of this evidence is digitized. The physical documents are irreplaceable."
"How long do we have?" Alex asked, her heart pounding but her mind clear. Years of reporting from conflict zones had taught her to function under pressure.
"Minutes," Nadia replied, still monitoring the equipment. "He's good. Moving in a deliberate search pattern."
"Then we work fast," Alex said, stuffing flash drives and papers into her backpack as Farsi handed them to her. "Prioritize what's most crucial."
As they worked, a strange calm settled over Alex. This was familiar territory for her—the rush of adrenaline, the narrowing of focus to essential tasks. It was why she had chosen this life, this profession. Not for the danger itself, but for the clarity it brought. The stripping away of pretense and privilege, leaving only what truly mattered.
In this case, the truth about Azadi Square. The evidence that could bring justice to those who had orchestrated state terrorism against their own citizens.
"That's everything essential," Farsi said finally, zipping closed a small document case which he handed to Nadia. "Ms. Chen, you have all the digital files. Nadia has the original documents. If we get separated, proceed independently to the extraction point. My contact in the capital will help you both reach the border."
The calm, methodical way he issued instructions told Alex this wasn't the first time Farsi had needed to evacuate quickly. She wondered how many safe houses he had established, how many escape routes planned.
"What about you?" she asked, shouldering her now-heavy backpack.
"I'll create a diversion," Farsi said, moving to a drawer from which he withdrew a pistol. "Buy you both time to reach the tunnel."
"That's suicide," Alex protested. "If it's just one operative—"
"One NKVI special forces operative is equivalent to a small tactical team," Nadia cut in, her voice hard. "And Javid is right. Someone needs to delay him."
"Then I'll do it," Alex said impulsively. "I'm an American citizen. A journalist. They won't risk killing me."
Farsi's smile was sad. "Ms. Chen, if this operative has been sent to secure this evidence, your citizenship will provide no protection. Besides, you are the most essential person here now. You know how to verify this material, how to present it in a way that cannot be dismissed as propaganda. You must survive to tell this story."
Before Alex could argue further, Nadia grabbed her arm. "Come. Now."
The urgency in her voice brooked no argument. Alex allowed herself to be led toward the back of the hut, where Nadia activated some hidden mechanism that caused a section of the floor to slide away, revealing a dark passage below.
"Straight ahead for two hundred meters," Nadia instructed, passing Alex a small flashlight. "Then up a ladder to a trapdoor. It emerges in a stand of pines overlooking the eastern ravine. Wait for me there."
Alex hesitated, looking back at Farsi, who was positioning himself near the front door, weapon ready. "Professor—"
"Go," he said firmly. "Make sure the world knows the truth. That's all that matters now."
With a final nod, Alex descended into the tunnel, Nadia following close behind. The passage was narrow but tall enough to stand in, its walls reinforced with timber.
They had covered perhaps fifty meters when they heard it—the muffled crack of a gunshot from above, followed by a second. Then silence.
Nadia's pace didn't falter. If anything, she moved more quickly, urging Alex forward with a hand on her back. "Keep moving," she whispered. "No matter what you hear."
They continued through the darkness, the beam of the flashlight illuminating just enough of the path ahead to avoid stumbling. Alex's mind raced with questions, calculations, contingencies. Had Farsi been shot? Captured? Had he managed to delay the operative long enough for them to escape?
And if they did escape, what then? A dangerous journey through mountainous terrain, pursued by NKVI forces. A border crossing that would be closely monitored once the alarm was raised. And even if she made it out of the country, there would be the challenge of publishing such explosive material in a way that couldn't be dismissed or suppressed.
The ladder appeared ahead, just as Nadia had described. Alex climbed quickly, pushing against the trapdoor at the top. It opened with surprising ease, and she emerged into dappled sunlight filtering through pine trees.
She reached back to help Nadia up, and they both crouched there, catching their breath and listening. The forest around them was quiet except for the soft sigh of wind through the pines. No sounds of pursuit. No indication that their escape had been detected.
"Now what?" Alex asked quietly.
Nadia consulted a small device that looked like a GPS unit. "We head east, following the ridgeline. There's a village in the next valley where we have allies. They can provide transportation to the capital."
"And from there?"
"From there, you leave the country," Nadia said flatly. "With the evidence. As quickly and quietly as possible."
"What about you?"
Nadia's expression hardened. "I have unfinished business here. Other caches of evidence to secure. Other witnesses to protect."
"And Farsi?"
"If he's alive, he'll find his way to us." Nadia rose from her crouch. "If not, the best way to honor his sacrifice is to ensure this evidence reaches the world."
Alex nodded, adjusting her backpack. The weight of responsibility settled on her shoulders, heavier than the physical burden she carried. She had come seeking a story, but found herself entrusted with something far more important—the truth about a government's betrayal of its own people, and the lives of those brave enough to document it.
"Let's go," she said, rising to follow Nadia into the gathering dusk.