Chapter ElevenAcross town, Ruth shivered on a wooden bench outside the American embassy. A cold wind wrestled with her long, navy-blue wool coat and nipped at her face. She tightened her scarf against her neck then wrapped her arms around herself. Two uniformed marines who guarded the entrance stood at ramrod attention. Despite their taut and impassive expressions, she never doubted they watched her like hawks—ready for action at a moment's notice.
Late last summer, Ruth had seen a mother with her toddler son rushing to the embassy gates. Disheveled and sobbing, they were bruised and dirty. The terrified woman screamed, “I'm an American. Let me in. Please, let me in!” In an instant, the guards came alive. One of them swung open the wrought-iron gate while the other whipped the rifle off h
