It had seemed like she'd come so close to being discovered, and then the car had just pulled off. Many hours later she was still shut up in the dark and still on her way to Russia. To add to the discomfort, she needed to pee again. Like before, she'd tried to count out rough hours. She'd got to nine before she totally mucked up and lost track of where she was. After that she hadn't bothered. She'd pleaded one last time with whoever might be listening to send help and stopped communicating. If Myron truly was listening she felt sure he'd have rescued her by now. She'd given him the make and model of the car as well as the first part of the registration. It wouldn't be much of a task to narrow down the rest. She doubted there were many blue Ford Focus cars on their way to Russia. It could only mean that she was on her own and needed to make her own way out of this mess. At first, this thought had overwhelmed her, and for the third time that journey she'd found herself sobbing. When she'd asked Myron to teach her she hadn't expected his work to be so much more dangerous for her than Sebastian's had been.
