Sabina's Pursuit of The Holy Grail
Chapter 17: Traumatised in the Safehouse.

I woke up the following day, traumatised and unable to get out of the lice-ridden bed. I was shaking from the shock, and I had lost all resolve to get on with life. Here I was, a fugitive in a foreign land, having witnessed several murders, barely surviving the ordeal. All I wanted to do was to be held in my present mother’s arms and be comforted, like when I was a child. I had felt a similar sense of apathy after Joshua tried to rape me, but at that time it was easier. Back then, I had been in a safe place, and Joshua had never posed any real threat to me. Although it did hurt my spirit, knowing the damage that my self-defence had caused him. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the Findɴovel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

I looked at my encrypted phone. All I wanted was to call my mother and speak to her. I knew that she would worry about me, as I had promised to call her every night and I had failed that promise. But then I stopped myself. My phone and personal belongings were in the Mossad’s possession, which meant that they knew who my mother was. Thus, they would track any calls or electronic communications aimed in her direction. If I called my mum, then the Mossad would know. They would track my location and come after me. But what if I called Lindsey, instead? She was not closely aligned to me, but she could still let my mother know that I was alive.

I dialled Lindsey’s number, and a few signals later she picked up the phone. “Hello, Lindsey speaking, who is this?”

“It’s me, Sabina. I need you to tell my parents that I am alive.” I said.

“Oh, has something happened? Show yourself in hologram mode.” Lindsey replied

“I cannot show myself; they would find me. I need to go.” I stated as I hung up the phone.

I collapsed on the bed, and I dreamt terrifying dreams about the murders that I had seen. I woke up with a twist, realising something strange. There was no blood in the visions where Martin and his fellow Templars were murdered. Did this mean that the murders were staged, or was my mind playing tricks on me? I needed to find out. I ordered a new ID, new clothes, a new phone, and some cash, as I reckoned cash was less traceable than a prepaid credit card. I checked my SplitCoin account. Buying contraband wasn’t cheap, and I hoped I wouldn’t run out of money.

A few hours later, the same young hacker girl delivered my package, and like before she didn’t say anything. She delivered the parcel and left. I studied my ID card. Hopefully, ‘Eleonore Smith’ wouldn’t attract as much unwanted attention as the name ‘Keila Eisenstein’ had done. I got dressed and set out to investigate the crime scene I had witnessed the day before.

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