At the U.S. embassy.
17
“Huh,” Tiago said as we stared up at the building. Okay, so the U.S. embassy wasn’t exactly where we had expected to find a guy with ties to an international thief and an arms dealer, but then again, by my count we were due for a little good luck.
Ryerson pulled out his phone. Five minutes later, he tucked it away and said, “We’re cleared.”
Whatever that meant. I followed them out of the car and up to the gate. The embassy was colorful and bright, a white building topped with a blue roof and the rising sun glinting off a gold dome. Ryerson spoke to the guard, who looked unconvinced until the phone rang in the guard shack. He answered it without taking his eyes off of us, exchanged a few words, and then hung up and waved us on.
“The Company called the embassy,” Ryerson explained as we walked through the gate and up the long driveway. “Amadou Abdellahi is the embassy’s resident chef. Apparently there is an international conference in Nouakchott this week, to discuss farm aid and new technology that may help drought-stricken areas. The embassy is playing host to a number of American and international participants, so Amadou hasn’t left in days.”
Ryerson pulled open the heavy front door and explained to the receptionist why we were here. After making a few calls to verify our credentials, she led us to a conference room on the second floor and left us with a warning that Amadou was quite busy and it might be a while. It was barely five a.m., and we hadn’t slept yet, so I staked out a spot on the room’s only couch and curled up to sleep. If Ryerson or Tiago thought this was weird, I didn’t really care. I’d been feeling drained ever since Brazil, and a power nap was definitely in my future.
But before I could close my eyes, something pinched my side.
“Ow!” I bolted upright and glanced down. A disgruntled golem climbed out of my pocket and jumped onto the couch then wagged an accusatory finger at me.
“Ainsey sit on me!” he accused.
“Sorry. But you’re supposed to be at the hotel watching the lions on TV, remember?”
“Lions scary.” He shuddered. “I come with you.”
I opened my mouth to have a much-needed conversation about stowing away in my pants, but the door opened. I scooped Golem up and tucked him in my pocket as a bright-eyed man walked inside. He was dressed in a white chef’s apron over a white button-down shirt, sleeves rolled crisply just below his elbows, and black pants.
“Amadou Abdellahi?” Ryerson said, extending his hand. The robust man shook it heartily.
“Yes. Sorry to keep you,” he said in heavily accented English. “The embassy has many guests this week, and our supplies are more limited than usual. We are needing to become more creative with our menus.”
Ryerson frowned. “I heard the region is experiencing a drought. I didn’t realize the extent of it.”
Amadou nodded, his expression troubled. “We here in the city are faring better than the outlying villages. But if we don’t see rain soon …” He let the thought trail away and collected himself. “But you are not here about the drought,” he said, a question in his voice.
“I’m afraid not. My name is Connor Ryerson.” He nodded toward us. “These are my associates.” He didn’t introduce Tiago or me by name, which I suspected was no oversight. Ryerson was big on not sharing more information than is strictly necessary. “We’re here on behalf of the United States government. It’s about your brother.”
The man’s face split into a grin. “What’s Bilal gotten himself into this time?”
Ryerson’s expression softened fractionally. “I’m sorry to tell you, but Bilal was killed yesterday.”
The big man’s face froze. “No.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Amadou shook his head. “No,” he said again. “No, no, no.”
Ryerson was one of the most competent people I knew, but right now, shifting his weight uncomfortably, he looked helpless.
I laid a hand on the big man’s trembling arm and guided him to the couch. “Why don’t we sit down?”
Ryerson shot me a grateful look, and Amadou’s knees shook as he collapsed onto the couch and sobbed. If anything ever happened to my brother, I’d be inconsolable. So I sat with him and held his hands and refused to let the tears pricking the backs on my own eyes fall. Eventually, the sobs shifted to deep, shuddering breaths, until there were no tears left.
Ryerson opened his mouth, but I shook my head. Not yet.
“Water,” I mouthed, and Tiago left to find some. He came back a few minutes later with a bottle of water, which he handed to Amadou. The big man took it with a nod of thanks and swallowed half the bottle.
“I know this is a difficult time for you,” I said, “but we have reason to believe that Bilal died shortly after he mailed you a book. Have you received anything from him in the last couple of days?”
He shook his head. “A book? No, I have not seen a book. Why would he send me a book? I don’t like to read.”
Ryerson looked at me, and I shook my head. He wasn’t a mage, so why would Bilal risk his life to send him the Grimoire? We were missing something.
“If you haven’t received it, then it must be at the post office,” Ryerson said.
He shared a look with Tiago.
I glanced between them. “Okay, so you’re spies. Can’t you, like, steal it?”
“We can, but postal employees tend to work early-morning hours, and it would be better to steal it when no one is around.”
“What if we wait until it closes?”
“We’d lose a full day, and we’re not the only ones after it. The sooner we get our hands on that book, the better,” Ryerson said. “Besides, waiting until dark might pit us against Alec.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said you could take him.”
“I can,” he gritted out. “But if you can do something without a fight, that’s always the way to go.”
Fair enough. “Okay, so if breaking in and stealing the book is out, what do we … oh.”
Tiago and Ryerson were both looking at Amadou.
I sighed and turned back to the big man. “We need a favor.”
18
It wasn’t hard to convince Amadou to accompany us to the post office to retrieve the Grimoire. After all, it was his brother’s last wish that he have it. Of course, we weren’t going to let him keep it. Surely he knew that, but it didn’t seem to bother him. In fact, nothing seemed to bother him, not after the news we’d given him. He walked around in a fugue. More than once we had to stop him from walking into walls and once, out into traffic.
We reached the post office, a squat tan-colored building with a sand-swept parking lot that wrapped behind the building. Two men in military uniform stood outside the front doors. Ryerson took one look at the building and kept driving. He turned onto a side street, parked, and twisted in his seat to look at Amadou.
“Just like we talked about, okay?” he said. “You’ll go inside and tell them there’s a package waiting for you. You’ll bring the package back here. You won’t open the package. That’s it. Understood?”
Amadou nodded but not like he’d heard him. He just stared out the window, lost in his own thoughts.
Tiago and I exchanged a look.
“Maybe one of us should go with him,” I suggested.
Ryerson shook his head. “Not with those officers outside. Tiago and I look too conspicuous, and there’s no time to go back to the safe house to change. We don’t know where Alec is, and we can’t miss this chance.”
“I meant me,” I said.
Ryerson shook his head once, hard. “No.”
But Tiago tilted his head, considering me. “I think it’s a good idea. She doesn’t exactly blend, but that might work in her favor. They’ll notice she’s a woman, but they won’t expect any shenanigans from her. They won’t see her as a threat. I mean, look at her.”
I frowned, trying to decide whether I’d just been complimented or insulted. “Shenanigans
?”
He grinned. “What can I say? You’re rubbing off on me.”
“I said no,” Ryerson said.
Tiago held up his hands in surrender, but I wasn’t about to give in that easily. I narrowed my eyes.
“I’m your partner,” I reminded him. “And I am completely capable of walking inside a post office and standing there while a guy picks up a package.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he said nothing. I gave Tiago a “help” look, but he was watching Ryerson with a thoughtful expression.
“Can you and Mr. Abdellahi wait outside the car?” Tiago said to me.
Um. “I guess.”
“Don’t go far,” Ryerson said.
I nudged Amadou outside into the heat. Sweat immediately beaded along my forehead and gathered at the small of my back. Amadou didn’t appear to notice the oppressive heat. He just slumped against the car, hands in his pockets, and stared at the ground.
“You okay?” I said. It was a stupid question—clearly he was not—but it was all I could think of to distract him from whatever dark place his thoughts had taken him.
He glanced up, startled, like he had forgotten I was there. “I am not. But unless you can bring Bilal back from the dead, there is nothing you can do for it.”
My heart broke a little for him, and I squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry.”
Not even witches could raise the dead.
Shows what you know, the voice muttered.
What?
Who said what now? said the voice, like she had forgotten this ghost radio thing worked both ways, and I could hear her.
Witches can raise the dead? I asked, alarmed.
Er, no. Of course not. Silly witch. Don’t be ridiculous. There is no spell to bring a soul back from the nextworld.
I was nowhere near done with this conversation, but Ryerson and Tiago chose that moment to step out of the car. Ryerson looked supremely unhappy. Tiago winked.
“Fine,” Ryerson said. It sounded like he’d pushed the word past lips lined with sandpaper.
“I’m sorry, what now?”
“Tiago is right. You should go,” he gritted out, refusing to look at me.
I grinned and then stopped when I remembered my prize was a five-minute man-sitting trip inside a post office.
“You’ll be fine,” Tiago assured me, reaching into the back of the car and pulling out a dark-colored scarf which he tied around my head, tucking my frizzy, white-blonde curls away. “Just walk him into the post office, wait for him to retrieve the package, and then walk right back out. Easy. You’re basically making sure he doesn’t walk into a wall or something. And that he doesn’t run away with the book, of course.”
Right. Make sure the guy doesn’t knock himself out on a door. I could do that.
I took a deep breath and glanced at Ryerson.
He met my gaze and nodded, but his jaw was still tight. “Tiago’s right. You’ll be fine. Stick to the plan. Get the book. Get out. We’ll see you in a minute.”
He said it so intently I wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince, me or himself.
Amadou looked at Ryerson. “She’ll be okay. I’ll look out for her.”
“I don’t need—” I stopped myself, reminding myself that this was the first time Amadou had come out of his funk. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.
I pulled in a breath and looked at Amadou. “Shall we?”
He nodded absently. I took his arm, and we walked to the post office. The officers looked at us but didn’t try to stop us as we walked past them and into the post office.
There were no guards posted inside, just regular people waiting for their turn at the mail counter, one guy pulling mail from a post office box, and another disappearing inside a restroom. My eyes lingered on the restroom door, and then Amadou tapped my shoulder and we joined the back of the line. The woman in front of us shifted the toddler on her hip, and he stared at me over her shoulder. Babies made me nervous. They were just so hard to predict. One minute they were giggly and happy, and the next they were screaming bloody murder. This one had curly black hair and cheeks stuffed full of the cookie he held in one plump hand. He smiled at me. I eyed him distrustfully. The line moved slowly forward.
My gaze drifted back to the restroom. The man I’d seen go in there had not come back out yet, and I tried to figure out why that bothered me. I thought back. He had dark hair, but his skin was lighter colored than most of the people here. And there had been something familiar about him.
I nudged Amadou. “Did you see that man who went into the restroom a minute ago?”
“Hmm?” he said absently, his attention clearly somewhere else.
“Never mind.” I patted his arm. He covered my hand with his own, and the corners of his lips lifted upward, but it wasn’t exactly a smile. Then he disappeared inside his thoughts once more, staring at a spot on the wall but not really seeing anything. I gave his arm a quick, comforting squeeze and then went back to staring at the restroom door.
It was probably nothing.
“Golem,” I whispered, and a little clay head popped out of my pocket, gazing up at me with wide, questioning eyes.
But Ryerson’s voice echoed in my head. Stick to the plan. Get the book. Get out.
I was being paranoid. And sending Golem to check it out was a crazy idea anyway. Sure he was small, but he wasn’t invisible, and most people had no idea magic or creatures like him existed. Which would be super tough to explain if someone spotted him.
“Never mind,” I said.
Golem shrugged and dropped partway back inside my pocket, so only his black button eyes and flat forehead stuck out, when his gaze snagged on something in front of us. I followed his gaze to the toddler. No, to the half-eaten, crumbling cookie the toddler was fisting.
Oh, broomsticks.
“Golem, no!” I whispered frantically, but it was too late. He scampered out of my pocket and dropped to the floor, bouncing off my shoe and tumbling head over toes to land between the woman’s sandaled feet.
“Alttalaa,” the postal worker at the counter called in a bored voice, and the woman stepped up to the counter, which was maybe why she didn’t notice the tiny clay golem swinging from her shoulder bag.
I gave Golem what I hoped was my sternest “get back here this instant” look, but it may have come across as flat-out panicked.
Another postal worker finished with his customer and motioned us forward. Amadou stepped next to the woman with the toddler and said something in Arabic to the clerk and showed him an ID. The clerk examined the ID, handed it back with a nod, and then disappeared into the back. I lingered at the front of the line, trying to block the rest of the line’s view of the golem climbing the woman’s shoulder bag strap like a tiny monkey.
The toddler watched Golem, too, looking fascinated as Golem stretched a three-fingered hand toward the cookie. He couldn’t quite reach, and the longing in his gaze shifted to determination.
Uh oh.
I tensed, bracing for him to disappear in a pop of magic, to be replaced by a towering eight-foot-tall clay beast that could easily pluck his prize from the toddler’s grasp.
The worker assisting Amadou returned, carrying a package the size of two shoe boxes stuck side by side. I glanced away from Golem long enough to watch the man slide the package across the counter to Amadou, who tucked it under his arm. I breathed a sigh of relief. That wasn’t so hard. My first solo mission. Nailed it.
Then the toddler wailed, and the woman screamed.
My head whipped around in time to see Golem, perched on the woman’s shoulder, pluck the cookie from the toddler’s hand and pop half of it into his mouth.
Golem looked surprised by all the commotion. He glanced at the cookie then at the child. He broke the rest of the cookie—which was little more than crumbs by now—in half and reluctantly tried to hand some of it back to the toddler. The toddler just wailed harder, and the woman jumped around in circles, the way I do when there’s a giant bug on
me and I want it off almost as badly as I don’t want to touch it. She wasn’t having much luck, probably because her arms were full of screaming toddler.
I reached for him, but Golem toppled off her shoulder and got wrapped up in her bag strap, hanging on for dear life as she danced about.
“Whee!” he said.
Okay, maybe not dear life.
By this time, the other customers in line and the employees had taken notice, and some of them pointed at Golem, their eyes wide as they yelled words in a language I didn’t understand. I darted forward and grabbed Golem, tucking him back in my pocket, cookie crumbs and all.
We needed to get out of here. Fast.
I looked around for Amadou, but he was no longer at the counter. I ducked as the woman danced by me, her arms windmilling about, and spotted Amadou between her flailing arms, and I froze.
He stood by the restroom door, the package clutched to his chest as a dark-haired man whispered something in his ear. The man who had disappeared into the restroom the moment we’d arrived. I’d only seen the back of his head, and the dyed hair had thrown me, but ice-blue eyes met mine and winked. Winked.
Alec.
The room had erupted into chaos, and people were yelling and running for the door. The officers from the porch ran inside, sharp eyes scanning the room for the source of the chaos. By the time I looked up, Alec and Amadou were gone.
Oh, curse it.
Meanwhile, the panic had apparently spooked Golem, who jumped from my pocket and waddle-ran between a startled officer’s legs and out the front door. A few people saw him and screamed.
Oy.
Reflexively, I started after Golem and then stopped myself. He would find Ryerson, of that I had no doubt. Speaking of which, I needed to go get Ryerson, but by the time I reached them and explained what happened, Alec, Amadou, and the Grimoire would be long gone. And what had Ryerson said? Don’t let the book out of your sight.
I glanced once more at the door and then called my magic, pressed my hand into the wall, and pushed magic into it, whispering the incantation Aunt Belinda’s coven had taught me. Then I took off after Alec.
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