Sophie spent her days in Parnaas working in the office, a prefab hut erected near the camp gates that served as the coalition administrative building. It had a power supply, heat, satellite phone, and – incredibly – openly accessible wireless Internet service. There were strange upsides to a refugee crisis in midst of the developed world. Sophie had no idea whose service they were using, but they were going to get a rude shock next month when they saw the bill.
She did not work alone. For the last four days running, the Commandant had joined her. “Just a social visit,” he assured her each time. “I wish to observe you.”
And observe he did, in total silence from one end of the day to the other. She completed paperwork, wrote reports, and drew up personnel rosters. Responded to calls on her walkie. Members of the coalition came in and out, glancing uneasily at her companion. For the most part, she ignored him and his creepy gaze, although she never allowed herself for a moment to forget he was there.
Today, he finally spoke.
“You are very young, Ms. Swenda.” Sophie started in her seat at the sound of his voice. “May I ask how old you are?”
“Please, Commandant, call me Sophie. I’m twenty-eight years old. I’ll be twenty-nine later this year.”
“So young to be in such a position of authority! How do you find time to tend to the needs of your husband and children while you work a man’s job?”
She hid a grimace of distaste at his question. Clearly, Jaros wasn’t a participant in the cultural revolution around women’s roles that Alex had described to her. “No, I’m afraid I’m too busy to settle down. You know how we Americans are.”
“No children then? Such a pity. You should be respectably married, with two or three babies by now.” He smiled, smiled, smiled. “Why does a young woman choose to work under these unfortunate conditions instead of marrying and starting a family?”
“Altruism, Commandant. I wish to help my fellow man.” She continued her paperwork in silence.
“You lie, Sophie.”
She stiffened and looked up at him. His eyes shone with some strange emotion. As much as Sophie wanted to order him out of the room, she realized she had an opportunity to learn more about this disturbing man. She proceeded cautiously.
“Do I, Commandant? What makes you say that?”
“You are much more intelligent, more complex than your childish explanation suggests. No, something else motivates you. Something hidden. I wish to know what it is.” They looked at each other. The Commandant was dangerously close to the truth. But perhaps, Sophie thought, she could lure him into another line of thinking.
“Can you not guess, Commandant?” She pitched her voice a little lower, making him lean in a bit. “You are an observant, perceptive man. What do you think motivates me?”
“Ah, no! I want you to tell me.” His eyes sparkled with excitement.
He’s enjoying this. Tell me, Commandant, what motivates you to tag people’s foreheads with the symbol of what your country once was? Sophie fiddled with her pen, pretending to appear uncertain. Jaros smiled his encouragement.
“Ambition,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly. “I have done well in my career. I am only twenty-eight, yet I am leading the most significant relief mission America has ever seen. When this mission succeeds and I return home, I will have my choice of jobs.” Sophie let her mind go on a flight of fancy. “Definitely a book deal. Perhaps even a movie.”
The Commandant laughed as if she were giving him the purest form of entertainment.