He ransacked her suitcases, purse, handbags, coat pockets, and anything else he could find. He went into the bathroom and dug into her toiletries kit, keeping the muzzle of his gun aimed out the open door at Katya. “What are you looking for?” she asked. “Do you know who I am?” Dewey returned to the living room of the luxurious suite, then stepped into the bedroom, the gun always aimed at Katya through the open door. He looked in the drawers of the bureaus, lifting up clothing. He went to a mahogany desk in front of the window and opened the drawers, finding nothing. He returned to the living room. “Get dressed,” said Dewey. “Get some shoes on. Now.” “Why are you doing this?” Katya asked, her voice trembling. Dewey pulled out a sheet of paper and unfolded it. On it were photos of Cloud. He handed it to her. Katya’s hand went to her mouth, covering it. “Is that your boyfriend?” asked Dewey. She nodded as tears rolled down her cheeks. “He’s a terrorist,” said Dewey.
