Three months later, I am on a plane to meet her.Betty is the youngest daughter with three elder sisters. She is thirty and her husband died in an acci...ent before they could have children. Betty has gold-flecked skin tones, long, thick, black hair, and a contagious smile. I am thirty-three centimeters taller than her and probably taller than most people in her country.Betty meets me at the airport. We get a cab to the hotel and go to dinner. That night we take a cab to her house. We kiss and I. But, therewas indeed a strange vibe in the air, the feeling of uncertainty and ofhope something I had never felt before. Although the guards continuedemerging from the bunker and dragging people out of their hopes, Ifoolishly thought that they would never get to me. I was wrong.And my hopes of not being pushed into the depths of the bunker wereevaporated by several strong knocks and a distinctly Russian voice atthe door. I was blindfolded and my hands were tied behind my back and Iheard the. More

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