“Nash . . . ?”
Sam looked at Remi, who in turn looked at Nasha. The child wiped her tears. “Atiku.”
“Age?”
“Eleven.”
The officer turned his attention to Sam. “You understand there’s a fine for leaving your keys in the car?”
Paying on the spot was standard fare in this country. “Of course,” Sam said as Remi gave a subtle nod to her left. He looked that direction and saw Hank patting his pockets, his expression turning to one of disbelief as he realized the keys had been stolen from him. Sam handed Remi his wallet, then left to divert Hank before the officer saw him. “Why don’t you wait with Amal in the shade. No sense all of us getting involved. Remi can take it from here.”
Realization dawned on Hank, the moment the officer took off in his patrol car, without their thief in custody. “That pickpocket stole the keys from me. He should be in jail.”
“Easy,” Sam said as Hank tried to move past him. Though he wasn’t drunk, Sam could smell the alcohol on his breath. “It keeps us all from having to come back for court.”
“Court?”
“Exactly. Remi and I don’t have that time. Do you?”
He shook his head. “No,” he said, leaning around Sam, trying to see what Remi was doing. “Is your wife really giving that kid money?”
“Of course not,” Sam said, though knowing Remi, she probably was. He led Hank back across the street. “Don’t you think it’s a little early to be drinking?”
“Apparently not,” he said, patting his pockets once more. “What if they got my wallet?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
You cannot beat a child to take away its tears.
– AFRICAN PROVERB –
Nasha stuffed the money into the pocket of her pants, not even bothering to count it, half tempted to say nothing about where it came from. Something told her that if any of the Kalu brothers learned of the generosity of the Fargos, they’d try to exploit it, then punish her because she had the misfortune of getting caught stealing the car. It’d be worse if one of them somehow discovered how it was she’d managed to avoid being turned over to the police. She’d survived this long on the streets because no one had realized the secret she’d taken such great pains to hide, especially from the Kalu brothers.
Being a girl was bad enough. Being an orphaned girl was worse. They were the ones who disappeared, never to be seen again.
Racing across the street, she dodged a car that suddenly pulled away from the curb. She didn’t stop until she reached the alley, out of sight of the police, the Fargos, and anyone else who might see her. When she was alone, she dug her hand into her pocket, counting the thick wad of bills, and almost crying real tears when she realized how much the Fargo woman had given her.
Chuk, one of the boys from her uncle’s village, ran up behind her. “Did you get anything?”
She nodded.
Small, like Nasha, his eyes widened when he saw the wad of bills she pulled from her pocket. “How much?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” She handed a few bills to him, then gasped when she saw his swollen cheek. “Who did that?”
“No one,” he said, crumpling the money in his fist. “I fell.”
She didn’t believe him for a moment, but she was too excited by the Fargos’ gift. “Put that away before someone sees it or they’ll take it from you.”
He stuffed it into his pocket, then walked alongside her. “You won’t leave me here, will you?”
Nasha was surprised by the hurt in his voice. “Why would you say that?”
“Because now you have enough money to go home.”
What she didn’t have was enough to take him with her. “I promised we’d stay together. I meant it.” They reached the door of the ramshackle furniture repair shop where she and all the other boys lived. The moment they entered, Chuk ran down the hall. Nasha hung back in the front room, filled with broken chairs. Counting off half the money to go toward their bus tickets, she stuffed that into her pocket, kept out the rest to turn over, and knocked on the door to Bako Kalu’s room.
Bako lowered his beer can, his eyes narrowing as she walked in. “What are you doing back? Why aren’t you with the others?”
She held out the paper bills.
He snatched them from her hand, tossing them onto the table next to a heap of coins and wrinkled bills. The sight of that other money surprised her. Frightened her. When she looked at him, he leaned forward, pointing at her with his can. “You’re not holding out on me?”
Heart thumping, she told him no.
He cocked his head toward the door. “Get out.”
She backed to the door, then hurried down the hallway to the small room she shared with Chuk and some of the other boys. Checking to make sure no one else was in there, she moved the rags that doubled as her bed, pulled the money from her pocket, and lifted the floorboard.
Her breath caught.
Empty. All of it gone.
“So, it’s true.”
Nasha spun around, seeing Bako glaring at her from the doorway. And behind him, Chuk and one of the older boys, Len. Chuk wouldn’t even look at her.
Bako crossed the room, grabbing her by the arm, ripping the cash from her hand. “You steal from me? After all I’ve done for you?” His grip tightened, his face filled with disgust, as he held out his hand for the rest of the money.
“That’s all there is, I swear.”
He eyed it, then her. “If you weren’t so small and nimble, I’d toss you back where I found you.” He shoved her against the wall, pain shooting across her shoulder as she hit the wood siding. Gritting her teeth, she tried not to cry out.
“Quit your whining,” he said, before turning his attention toward Len. “Go get my brothers. We’re going to get that truck and their car.”
“How?” Len asked. He’d been the lookout in the store. His job was to delay their marks, giving them time to steal the Land Rover.
“Same way we took the last one.”
The boy shifted on his feet.
“What is it?” Bako asked him.
“I don’t think you should. This man. He’s not like the others. He watched us. He knew. I think he’s—”
“He’s what?”
“Dangerous.”
Bako’s black eyes narrowed as he lifted his shirt, revealing the butt of a gun. “So am I. If he puts up any fight, we’ll kill them all. Very simple. Now go.”