Underneath — a baby. A real one. His face was pale, lips turning blue, breathing shallow. But under the pillow…

The officer carefully lifted it. Wrapped in layers of fabric, foil, and cloth was a metal cylinder with Arabic writing. And a small red light. Its blinking was barely noticeable.

— A bo1 m1 b… — he whispered. — Damn it…

At that moment, the woman collapsed as if she had been completely exposed. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She just whispered:

— I didn’t want this… they forced me… he’s my son… they said he would die otherwise…

Security responded immediately. The terminal was evacuated, the bomb defused. The woman was arrested.

But the story didn’t end there.

Two weeks later, the radio reported: in another terminal, on another continent, another woman with a baby had been detained. Also with a stroller. Also — not of her own will. Zora still had another important job to do.