by Ron McGee
“I know what it’s like. Feeling powerless, like there’s nothing you can do. When I was fourteen, the police came to my house. The police in Lovanda are different than in America. Here, they are for sale to whoever pays them the most. They came to my house and took my father.” Hearing the pain and anger in her voice broke through Danny’s stupor. “They said he was a thief. My father worked for the city, and they accused him of stealing money from the city’s bank accounts. It was all made up. My father would never steal.”
“Why’d they do it?” Danny asked, pulled into her story.
“Because he told some friends he might run for the city council. He wanted to stop the corruption and decided to run against a man who had been the councilman for many years.”
“So they just made up charges against him?”
“My father was a good man, but he was naive. They sentenced him to twenty-five years in prison. We weren’t allowed to see him again.”
Danny couldn’t believe it. What kind of justice was possible if anyone could just buy off the cops?
“I’m sorry. That must be awful.”
“My mother simply gave up. She became more like a ghost than a person. But I was always a fighter. A troublemaker, my father would joke. With no parent to talk sense to me, I was in trouble a lot. Stealing. Spray painting graffiti on government buildings.”
“That doesn’t sound too smart in Lovanda.”
“It wasn’t. I would have landed in jail eventually. And I was accomplishing nothing but hurting myself. But then I met Anbo.” Danny followed her gaze across the room to where Lawrence was speaking quietly with Jaz. “You should have seen him them. Strong. Full of ideas and opinions and passion. When Anbo spoke, everyone paid attention.”
Danny found that hard to imagine, even though he’d seen the video of the concert. Sitting hunched over, there was little trace of the magnetic rapper left in Lawrence. He was all nerves and anxiety. That vibrant teenager was long gone.
“I wish I could have met him then.”
“He was electric. Anbo believed that we all have something powerful deep inside if we can just find it. He showed me that I could use music and words to make a difference.” Nadia smiled, remembering. “We were just teenagers. We had nothing. But once Anbo helped me find my voice, I never felt helpless again.”
Danny imagined how great it would feel to have a talent like that. Where you could stand up in front of all those people and be heard. Where your own particular gift could actually make a difference.
Then he stopped. He’d been so worried about Ryan that he wasn’t thinking straight. He had a gift he could use!
“Jaz,” he called, standing abruptly. “Do you have an internet connection?”
“Of course,” she answered, showing him a beat-up old desktop computer. “But the internet in Lovanda is controlled by Sekhmet Technologies—you must be careful.”
“Sekhmet won’t be a problem. In fact, they’re going to be my way in.”
Danny sat at the computer. He opened a command window and began typing. The system was slow, but it would get the job done. When Danny first started hacking, he learned to always leave a backdoor into any network he visited, a secret way to get past security and firewalls in case he needed in again. It had become a habit for him and was the first thing he did once he got inside.
When he and Ryan got into Madame Buku’s office computer, Danny had immediately opened a private web page where he kept the hacking programs he’d developed. Double-clicking on a program he named Mousehole had started the backdoor installation program. While Danny had composed the email to Kasey, the program downloaded. Madame Buku and Laughlin had interrupted them before he could send the email, but the backdoor should have completed the install on its own.
Danny finished typing his commands and hit enter. For several agonizing seconds he waited. Finally, a new screen opened that displayed the Sekhmet lion’s head logo.
“What’s that?” Nadia asked, looking over his shoulder.
“Madame Buku’s desktop.” Danny now had access to everything on her computer. He navigated to her email and opened it up. “There’s some English and French, but what’s this?”
“Swahili.” Nadia quickly scanned the subject lines. “There, can you open that one?”
Danny opened it. “What does it say?”
“Something about a prisoner.” Nadia read the email and frowned. “He’s alive. Ryan’s alive.”
“Yes!” Danny cried, jumping up.
But the expression on Nadia’s face didn’t seem to reflect the good news. She looked to Lawrence, worried.
“He’s being transported to Mount Satori,” she said.
Lawrence deflated. “Then he’s lost.”
“What’s Mount Satori?” Danny looked between them, but it was Jaz who answered.
“The mines. No one returns from the mines.”
Danny wasn’t about to accept that. “Well then, Ryan’ll be the first. There has to be some way. We have to get him back!”
The three friends shared a look, and Danny could tell they thought it was hopeless. But he wasn’t about to give up on Ryan.
Bang! Bang! The sudden knock on the apartment door startled them all. Had Laughlin’s men found them? Or the police?
But then they heard a man’s urgent voice. “Danny! Are you in there?”
Lawrence, Nadia, and Jaz looked his direction as Danny’s face lit up with recognition. He raced to the front door and flung it open.
“Mr. Quinn!” Danny spontaneously hugged Ryan’s dad, not even caring what anyone thought. “How’d you find me?”
“The GPS on your phone. Smart thinking leaving it on.” As Danny pulled away, John scanned the room, taking in Lawrence, Nadia, and Jaz. Then his expression turned grim as he looked back at Danny.
“Where the hell’s Ryan?”
CHAPTER
29
MOUNT SATORI,
LOVANDA, AFRICA
The road was chiseled into the side of the mountain. The SUV had traveled steadily uphill for almost an hour, taking the sharp curves fast enough to throw Ryan into the door repeatedly. Laughlin and the driver sat up front. Reilly was in back to keep an eye on Ryan.
Not that Reilly had much to worry about. Ryan was exhausted, having barely slept. His body ached from lying on the concrete floor with his hands bound for hours. He had finally dozed off when he felt Laughlin kick him awake. The men yanked Ryan to his feet just before dawn and tossed him into the SUV.
The rising sun crept over the ridge, casting long shadows across the mountain. From the narrow road up here, there was no view of the lake below or the countryside. Sheer cliffs of forbidding stone surrounded them on all sides. No wonder people called it the Devil’s House.
The SUV pulled to a stop in front of a giant iron gate. A thick metal fence topped with razor wire made the entrance look more like a prison than a workplace. The gate opened and a guard with a submachine gun glanced at the driver, then waved them through.
Laughlin turned back and smiled at Ryan. “I think this is gonna be good for you, kid. Hard work builds character.”
“Then I guess you’ve never done much,” Ryan said.
“I’ll give you this, you got backbone. Not that it’ll do you much good here. In fact, it’ll probably get you killed. These guys don’t fool around.”
Inside, a sheer cliff rose hundreds of feet straight up. At the bottom was a large tunnel opening that led into the pitch-black depths of the gold mine. Workers carrying equipment and baskets of debris lumbered in and out of the tunnel with the slow, sluggish pace of zombies.
The SUV came to a stop, and Laughlin turned once more. “We’ll find your friends. The borders are sealed tight, and there’s nowhere in Lovanda they can hide for long. Madame Buku has her nasty little heart set on making an example of them. And one way or another, Madame Buku always gets what she wants.”
The back door opened, and Ryan was jerked out. Two men with guns slung over th
eir shoulders yelled orders at him in Swahili as the SUV looped around and drove back out. The men pushed Ryan forward and he stumbled, barely righting himself before he fell.
The mining camp contained clusters of ramshackle buildings that had the feel of a military base. Some looked like offices and others more like barracks. Dump trucks and heavy machinery crisscrossed the area, engines rumbling and producing a cloud of dust. The whole place was dirty and loud.
The men marched Ryan over to a wiry little man whose left eye was white and cloudy. He examined Ryan with his one good eye, not bothering to hide his surprise.
“You very pale for Lovanda,” he said in broken English. He looked to the two guards, and they all laughed. “I am foreman here. In charge. You work hard, no trouble.”
Ryan tried to look as scared as possible. He wanted them to believe he was just a frightened kid who posed no threat. Appearing anxious wasn’t that hard, since he was getting increasingly uneasy as he glanced around the camp. One side was blocked off by the metal fence and guards, the other by the steep mountain wall. Escape seemed next to impossible.
The foreman stepped close to Ryan, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “You are nobody here. No name. No family. Nothing. You do as told, that is all. Understand?”
This guy was just a bully, used to bossing everyone around. But Ryan couldn’t afford to antagonize him, so he simply nodded. “I understand.”
“Good.” The man smiled again. “Then is time to work.”
The foreman gave orders to the men in Swahili. One of them grabbed Ryan’s arm and led him toward the mineshaft entrance. As they crossed the camp, Ryan saw that it was separated into three main areas. On the far side, a huge piece of machinery banged noisily as it crushed rocks and debris. Dump trucks came and went, watched closely by armed guards. The opposite side of the camp housed the long, wood buildings that Ryan guessed were barracks, and the center was comprised of metal trailers used as offices. Ryan noted power lines and a satellite dish atop one of them. Maybe a way to get a message out if he could sneak inside?
As they approached the front of the mine, Ryan was shocked to see several little kids. They were dirty, their clothes tattered. Seven or eight years old at the most. The kids carried buckets of water back and forth to a giant trough full of muddy sludge. Ryan felt the anger rise in him again—how could anyone do this to kids?
He was shoved from behind and kept walking. A group of men of all ages were gathered at the front of the mine. Everyone held a shovel or pickax, and some wore straps around their heads that held small lights. Even at the start of the day, they were all filthy and looked fatigued.
As Ryan approached, their eyes fastened on him in astonishment. They clearly weren’t used to seeing anyone here who wasn’t black. Everyone began whispering and pointing as a ripple of excitement spread among them.
The man in charge barked orders, and they responded instantly, going quiet and lifeless once more. As they began to trek into the tunnel, Ryan was nudged into line with them. A kid in front of him turned and studied Ryan for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. He handed Ryan his shovel, then pulled a small axe from a belt around his waist.
“Stay close. Do what I say, okay?” The guy was probably seventeen, Ryan guessed, and his English was good. He glanced warily at the man in charge, and Ryan got the feeling the kid was taking a risk by helping him.
“Thanks,” Ryan said.
They entered the tunnel, leaving daylight behind. Ryan took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, as he descended into the Devil’s House.
CHAPTER
30
HOUDALI,
LOVANDA, AFRICA
Ryan’s dad worked all night. Danny had struggled to stay awake and help, but had finally passed out and slept for several hours. Nanay always said he could sleep through anything. Guess she was right.
When he woke, the sun was already up. Mr. Quinn had taken over the kitchen table. It was covered with maps, photos, and information about Mount Satori and the mine. Danny yawned and stretched as he walked over. He still felt tired, but Ryan’s dad looked as focused as he had the night before.
“Sorry I fell asleep,” Danny said.
“Don’t be. One of the first things you learn in the field is to eat and sleep whenever you can.”
“And to use the bathroom,” Danny added. “I figured that one out, too.”
Mr. Quinn allowed a small smile, the first since he’d arrived, then turned back to a satellite image he was studying. Danny looked over his shoulder, seeing that he had circled an area in black ink.
“Did you find a way in?”
“Maybe.” He pointed to a squiggly line that led away from the circled area. “This is an old access road. More of a dirt path, really. It leads around to the far side of the mining operation.”
“You can hardly see it.”
“Yeah. It’s a hike in. Several hours, probably.”
“And what do you do when you get there? How do you get to Ryan and get him out?”
Mr. Quinn frowned. “Still working on it. He could be anywhere inside the camp. I have to locate him, secure him, and make it back out. All without being detected.”
Danny nodded, seeing the problem. “And you won’t exactly blend in.”
“No,” he agreed.
“But I would.” They both turned to see Lawrence behind them. He and Nadia had emerged from the back bedroom. In a T-shirt and jeans, Danny thought Lawrence looked less like a bank teller and more like a regular guy. “Nobody ever tries to break into Mount Satori. If you got me inside, I could find Ryan. I could bring him to you.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Mr. Quinn said, but Danny could tell he didn’t really mean it. He was just saying it to give Lawrence a way out.
But Lawrence didn’t back down. “Your father saved us once. Your son saved us again. We owe your family this.”
“Are you sure?”
Nadia stepped beside Lawrence, taking his hand. He looked at her, silently asking her permission, and she nodded. Lawrence looked back to John. “Tell me what to do.”
Ryan’s dad stood up, newly energized. “I actually have an idea. It’s risky, but I think it’s our best shot.”
Danny was excited. “This is great! What can I do?”
“Sorry, Danny,” he said. “You’re going home.”
“What? I can’t go before we save Ryan.” No way he was going to leave his friend behind again.
But Mr. Quinn was insistent. “You have to. I contacted a woman I trust in the ERC. She’s picking you up here tonight and getting you out of the country. She’ll make sure you get on a plane to New York.”
“That’s not fair! I can help.”
Nadia offered encouragement. “You already helped. You’re the one who found Ryan in the first place.”
“The best way you can help is to do what I ask,” Mr. Quinn added. “I need to know you’re safe at home with your family. You got dragged into this because of us—”
“I did it myself. I’m the one who jumped on the plane.”
“Danny, this isn’t up for discussion.” He reached into a duffel bag and pulled out a blue passport. “My first responsibility is to get you home safely. That’s what I intend to do.”
Danny took the passport and opened it. He recognized a photo of him taken for last year’s school yearbook. But it had the name “Anthony Sedona” printed next to it.
This sucked. His first real fake passport and he couldn’t even enjoy it!
CHAPTER
31
MOUNT SATORI,
LOVANDA, AFRICA
Ryan dumped another bucket of rocks and dirt into the metal cart. After several hours of hard work, his back was aching and his arms felt as limp as rubber bands. They had taken one short break for a few minutes, but that was more than an hour ago. Ryan was hungry, thirsty, and wiped out.
An air horn sounded through the mineshaft, and the boys and men began walking back toward the central
cavern. Malik was the kid who had been quietly helping Ryan, explaining to him what to do and how to stay out of trouble.
“We eat now,” Malik said. “Is very bad, but you must eat as much as you can. For strength.”
Ryan nodded his agreement as they fell into line with the others. The gold mine was a confusing network of long, narrow shafts that veered out in several directions from the main tunnel. Lit only by strings of dim yellow lights, the shafts were dark and claustrophobic. Ryan had spent all morning collecting the rocks that Malik chipped away from the walls with his small axe. Some of the rocks held tiny flakes of gold. Malik explained that the heavy equipment outside would pulverize the stone into dust so the gold could be removed.
Everything about the mine felt primitive, like nothing here had changed for ages. The miners used handheld tools. Metal carts rode along rusting steel tracks. It was like an old Indiana Jones movie, only it was real. The entire operation depended on the cheap, backbreaking labor of the workers. Ryan wondered how long some of these guys had been down here. And how long they actually lasted in this gloomy environment.
The shaft opened into a large cavern. Everyone grabbed a bowl and lined up to get food being dished out of metal pots. When it was Ryan’s turn, he stared into the pot and his stomach turned. It was a cold stew with unrecognizable vegetables in thick, brown goo. So gross.
“Told you.” Malik was beside him. He grabbed the ladle and filled both their bowls. “No dessert, either.”
They found a place to sit. The relief was instantaneous. Ryan didn’t know how he was ever going to stand and walk again. He just wanted to curl up and go to sleep. He forced himself to take a bite of the disgusting lunch—it was as awful as it looked. He swallowed, then took another bite.
“How’d all these guys end up here?” Ryan asked Malik.
The teenager considered him with a guarded expression. “Bad choices or bad luck. Many of the men were arrested. Police say jails are too full. Send them here to work.”
“Were you arrested?”
Malik shook his head. “No. I am here because of bad luck. My mother died. I had no one, so they send me here. All the young ones you see, they have no families. No one to miss them. No one to ask where they are.”