Chickens scurried as Sam idled forward across the wide graveled drive. He parked in front of the main building, a long one-story bungalow, its whitewashed siding tinged orange from the late-afternoon sunlight. It was one of four almost identical buildings—the office/staff quarters, the cafeteria/classrooms, and two dorms, one not yet finished—all constructed in a circle around a large courtyard just visible between the structures. To Sam’s right, at the far end of the grounds, about a half-dozen girls were kicking a ball back and forth in what looked like a half-field version of soccer.
The weather up here was significantly cooler than in Jalingo, something Sam noticed the moment he jumped out of the truck. He walked back to Pete, who was making his way from the gate. “A little later than planned,” Sam said, shaking hands with him. “But we’re here.”
Pete glanced at Hank as he helped the women unload their luggage from the back of the Land Rover. “I thought you were bringing three guests? Who’s missing?”
Sam followed the direction of his gaze as Wendy joined them. “Dr. LaBelle fell ill. She’s hoping she can make it later in the week.”
“Probably best,” Wendy said. “Last thing we need is a bunch of sick kids.”
“We did, however, pick up a hitchhiker.” Sam nodded toward Nasha as she slid out of the backseat of the Land Rover.
Once the introductions were made, Remi gave Wendy a hug, then hugged Pete. “Good to see you both. We’ve missed having you at the house, but, boy, this is amazing. To think that six months ago it was nothing but an empty meadow.”
“It’s coming along,” Pete said. “Hoping to finish the roof and—”
Wendy, apparently noticing Amal’s shaky stance, said, “We can talk about that later. Let’s get them settled. Looks like you all had too much excitement for one day.”
“I think everyone needs a little down time after our experience on the trip here,” Remi agreed.
As she herded everyone through the door, Sam and Pete remained behind, Sam calling out, “We’ll catch up with you in a moment.”
“You got it,” Wendy said, then followed the others in.
Pete saw the bullet holes in the side of the truck, glancing over at Sam.
“A little trouble on the road here. Long story. I’ll tell you later,” Sam said, looking back to make sure they were alone. He waited until everyone disappeared inside, the door closing behind them. “They’re gone. Now, about this other project you and Yaro are working on . . . No one knows?”
“No one,” Pete said. “Wendy’s managed to cover for us. Just like you asked.”
“Good. Let’s have a look.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The child of a rat is a rat.
– MALAGASY PROVERB –
Pete led Sam toward the courtyard, stopping when he saw several girls racing toward them from the picnic benches. “Then again,” Pete said, “maybe tomorrow morning will be a better time to discuss that project. They’ll all be in class.” He glanced back at the holes in the supply truck. “I’m definitely curious to know what happened there.”
“That should probably wait, too,” Sam said as several more girls emerged from one of the buildings to join them.
It wasn’t until they all sat down to dinner at a separate table from the students that Sam explained about the attempted robbery.
Pete sat back in his chair, looking from Sam to Remi. “You think it was the same group who stole our last truckload of supplies?”
“In fact, the same yellow car followed us after we left the city. The girl we brought in was part of it. She’s the one who tried to steal our Land Rover.”
“That little thing?” Wendy said, looking over at Nasha, who stood at the end of the line. One of the older girls was directing what utensils she should put on her tray. “Is she even big enough to see over the steering wheel?”
“Barely. She was part of a much larger crew of young boys.”
“Doing what?”
“Distractions,” Sam said. “General thievery. And scouting for new victims. If I had to guess, the kids targeted Pete and Yaro the moment they arrived at the warehouse in Jalingo to pick up the supplies. They never had a chance.”
Wendy, her attention still on Nasha, finally turned toward Sam. “You think it’s safe to have brought her here?”
“I think so,” Remi said. She looked over at Amal. “What do you think?”
“Me?” She seemed surprised that anyone was bothering to ask her opinion. “I . . . I think she had to have been desperate to hide in the back of a truck. Especially knowing the Kalus would come after her.”
Hank also watched the child, his look troubled. “No doubt I’m prejudiced because I was the unwilling pickpocket victim. But I’ve seen her type before in Tunisia. She won’t be able to help herself. Things will turn up missing.”
“Maybe so,” Remi said. “But if not for her, we’d have driven right into an ambush. She’s the reason we fared as well as we did.”
“That, Mrs. Fargo,” Hank said, “was sheer luck. How do we know if her gang was or wasn’t part of the ambush?”
“I guess we don’t,” Remi said. “But she did say the Kalu brothers worked alone.”
“The word of a thief,” he replied, “is worth nothing.”
Amal, her face pale, her food untouched, pushed her chair back. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go lie down.”
Hank started to rise. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Just tired after everything that’s happened.”
Sam, not wanting the conversation to devolve further, took a good look around the building. “You’ve made a lot of progress since we were out here last. Keep this up and you two will be back in California, hitting the beach, in no time.”
“It’s been moving along,” Pete said. “The mess hall was finished a couple of weeks ago.”
“We’ll be glad when the second dorm is done,” Wendy added.
“What happened to the idea of one large dorm?” Remi asked her.
“After thinking about it, we figured one for the younger girls, one for the older. I think it’ll be easier in the long run.”
Sam lifted his water glass. “Well done.”
“Agreed,” Remi said, lifting her own glass. “To Pete and Wendy.”
A loud crash interrupted their toast and the four looked over at Nasha and saw her looking horror-stricken, her tray on the ground in front of her, the soup splattered across the floor.