“It did,” he said, taking a seat. “I was trying to arrange a crew to come in to fix that decking. That blasted curse.”
“Tell me about it,” Renee said, exasperated. “Over fifteen hundred years ago. You’d think they’d get over it by now. Hard to get locals to come in and work because of it.”
“Yes. No need to worry now, at least as far as the decking’s concerned. They’ve agreed to do the work.” He raised his water glass in a toast. “Here’s to a successful trip.”
“Hear! Hear!” Renee said.
Hank took a sip, then looked over at Sam, his expression sobering. “Had we been smart, we’d have brought the books with us to go over. I’m assuming LaBelle has already told your wife that we believe Warren may have been skimming funds.”
“That would explain the financial hit,” Sam said. As much as he wanted to discuss the embezzlement of the Foundation’s funding. “The books aren’t going anywhere and we can talk to Warren when we get back. Obviously, the more pressing matter is getting the truck and supplies to the school.”
“I agree,” Hank said. “That far south, they can’t possibly depend on a delivery from Jalingo every time they need something. Surely there’s somewhere closer?”
“They get the basics from Gembu, a village about two hours’ drive south. But the roads around Gashaka Gumti aren’t the best. What we’re hoping to do is make the school self-sustaining for exactly that reason. So they won’t have to depend on anything or anyone. Unfortunately, this truck robbery set us back.”
“I can imagine,” Hank said. “That was pretty brazen. But I’ve heard highway robbery out in the bush isn’t uncommon.”
“Not just the bush,” Renee said. “I was reading the newspaper in the lobby. It seemed like every other article was about the increasing gang activity in Jalingo.”
“Big-city life,” Sam said. “It’s almost a given, no matter where you go in the world.”
“I suppose so,” Hank said. “But rural life down here can be bad. Aren’t you worried about Boko Haram and the like?”
“That’s always a worry,” Sam replied. The terrorist militant group, based in northeastern Nigeria, was known worldwide for suicide bombings as well as kidnapping women and children, and had been trying for years to establish a stronghold farther south. While the school’s isolation made it an attractive target, Jalingo, less than a day’s drive, was a large enough city to have a strong police and military presence. “They’re more active up near the northern Nigeria border.”
Hank was about to comment when instead he glanced at Renee. “Are you okay, LaBelle? You seem a little pale. It’s not your ankle, is it?”
“No.” She gave a tired smile. “I’m sure I’ll feel better in the morning, but after the conference and my accident, I’ve hit a wall.”
“I’ll go up with you,” Hank said, helping her with her crutches.
She nodded. “I think what I need is a good night’s sleep.” She put her hand on Remi’s shoulder as she looked at Sam. “What time do you want to leave in the morning?”
“Nine should work.”
“See you then.”
The next morning, everyone but Renee had gathered in the lobby. Amal paced the floor, talking softly to herself. “You can do this. You can do this . . .”
Remi and Sam gave her space, pretending not to notice. Hank watched her a moment, then joined them. “I hope she’ll be okay. The convention was a big step for her. The stress exacerbates her anxiety, which apparently causes these mild seizures.”
“Does she take medication for it?” Remi asked him.
“I’m not sure,” he said as the elevator door opened.
Renee stepped off, her face pale, her eyes watery. “I hate to cancel at the last second, but I’ve been sick to my stomach all night. I’ve definitely caught some bug, and my ankle’s a bit more swollen.”
Amal took a tentative step toward her. “I’ll stay with you, Dr. LaBelle.”
“I don’t think it’s anything serious, but you probably shouldn’t get too close. I’ll be fine. What I need to do is prop my foot up and rest, just like the doctor said. You should go.”
“Without you? What if something happens?”
“If we had a crystal ball and knew everything bad that was coming down the chute, we’d all be paralyzed. Venture out, spread your wings.”
“But—”
“Have faith in yourself, Amal. You might be surprised. Besides, the Fargos will take good care of you.”
“But the girls,” Hank said. “They’re expecting you, LaBelle. Never mind that you can’t stay here alone.”
“I’ll be fine. I checked with the hotel. They’re actually happy to have me stay.” Renee gave a tired sigh. “I’m sorry, Remi. Maybe I’ll recover in a day or two . . .”
Remi looked at Sam as though he had some power over the situation.
“Her health is more important,” Sam said. “If she gets better, we’ll swing by and get her after we pick up Lazlo from the airport. Until then, the girls are going to have to make do with a site manager and graduate student.”
CHAPTER NINE
A difficult journey will make you daring and harden your will.
– AFRICAN PROVERB –
Makao clutched the steering wheel of his white extended-cab Toyota Tundra pickup as it bounced from one pothole to another on the long stretch of washed-out road a couple of hours outside of Jalingo. A thin film of red dust covered everything inside the cab, including the black dash bearing the smudged fingerprints from his passenger Jimi, who braced his left hand against it while gripping his right around the barrel of his assault rifle.
Makao glanced in the rearview mirror to the backseat where two more men rode, both cradling their rifles in their laps. All three passengers were agberos, criminals he’d trained from a young age after picking them up over a decade ago on the streets of Lagos.
Men who would do his absolute bidding, no questions asked.
Every one of them had started off as Area Boys, the name given to the mostly harmless pickpockets and thieves that infiltrated every busy street in the populous city. Most worked in loosely based gangs run by low-level crooks. That was how Makao got his start, rising through the ranks, making enough money to buy some form of respectability, even a position in the local government. And, it was where he learned that law enforcement tended to look the other way unless their hands were forced, usually due to the actions of those boys with a predilection for violence.