One hundred and forty

Talia's POV:

Over the next four months, I attempted to pick up the pieces of my life. After another day in the Texas hospital, I was deemed healthy enough to travel, and I went to stay with my father. He moved into a quiet neighborhood in Michigan. 

We had two FBI escorts on our trip home—Agents Regan and Wesley—who used an entire day to ask me even more questions. Both of them seemed frustrated because, according to their databases, Nicholas Robert simply didn't exist.

"There are no other aliases you've heard him use?" Agent Wesley asked me for the third time after their Interpol query came back without any results.

"No," I said patiently. "I only knew him as Nicholas. The terrorists called him Robert." Louis's guess about the identities of the men who stole us from Nicholas's clinic turned out to be correct. They were indeed part of a particularly dangerous ammunition organization called Diablo—that much the FBI had been able to find out.