He finally got himself under control.
Lalo cleared his throat and pretended to chew another bite and consider the interesting, far-fetched story Amadou had just told. "And we don't know if this intimidating Tuareg guy has moved on yet? He's still on the hunt here in Timbuktu?"
"Not sure," Maria raised an eyebrow. "But I'm sure I'll hear an update soon. This afternoon I'm going to the market. Need some batteries for the flashlight. And some Pringles." Maria flashed a naughty smile. She really loved Pringles and chocolate.
Lalo set his plate onto the center of the tablecloth. "Timbuktu's got a reputation as the end of the world," he said. "Maybe it's the perfect place for someone who's stolen something to hide out."
"Apparently," Amadou nodded. "It's happened before. But think about it. Thirty million dollars is what I heard. What kind of technology could be worth that much?"
Maria squatted at the edge of the tablecloth and began scraping chicken bones together onto one plate. "And how much must the reward be for the person who finds the guy who stole it?"
"A lot of money," Lalo said. "Before we go to the hospital, could I use the bathroom?"
"Of course. Our house is yours." Amadou offered a good intent at a smile.
Lalo felt each and every one of his bones aching as he headed for the end of the hall bathroom. He stood there staring at the mirror, at his face drained to the color of white clay. Lalo pressed his palms into the marble sink. He felt the skin over his scars begin to crawl.
If some Tuareg bounty hunter in the middle of the Sahara was looking for the fricking tracking device, it meant the word was out there. Everywhere, in the underworld. For the news to trickle down to Mali, it meant a whole bunch of other people knew about this.
There was a reward out. For a thirty million dollar tracking device. Stolen from a foreign government.
It had been so long.
Something had made this resurface, after so many years.
Did Rupert know about this?
How the hell had they come here to Timbuktu to search? Or was it just horrible luck?
Then and there, Lalo decided to take a double shift at the hospital. He was definitely not going to sleep tonight.
Lalo left the bathroom and went back to the living room where Amadou was chatting quietly with his sister. "Ready to go?"
Amadou's face sobered. "Yes." This was going to be only the second time he'd left the house since the attack. It was good for him to get out. If you buried yourself still alive, you just thought about the loss until it suffocated you.
Lalo and Amadou left the house and strolled down the streets. The smooth mud houses shimmered in waves. Lalo felt the skin on his neck begin to bake a deeper caramel brown. He was surprised when Amadou decided to talk during their walk to the hospital.
"Lalo, did you ever lose anyone?"
Lalo considered that. "I lost a lot of people," he finally said. Most of them he hadn't cared about. But if you were incapable of caring, you just were. There wasn't much Lalo could do to change all that they'd done to his heart. "But I did lose one person I cared about a lot."
Amadou's eyes crinkled in pain. Losing Amy was still viscerally fresh. "What was this person's name?"
Lalo never spoke her name. She was always there, stored away in his heart. Thinking about her, however, was dangerous.
But Amadou had been through hell.
"Romina," Lalo finally admitted. He heard his voice crack a bit. "Her name was Romina. We grew up together." For today, he left out the part about the cult compound. "I really…loved her. When we were teenagers. Things got bad at…home, and we ran away together."
Romina was his only friend. They loved each other, but only acted like a brother and sister would together. Who knew if they were related? Almost all the children in the compound belonged to Lalo's father.
Lalo realized he was clenching his teeth so hard it hurt. Sweat poured down his back. There was a lot of the story he was just plain not going to share here. "Anyway," he said to Amadou, "I lost her. A lot of things happened, when we ran away. I lost her, and I never found her again. I don't know if she's still alive."
Amadou considered this, staring at his dusty feet as they plowed through the sand. "Then there's still hope."
"What?"
"There's still hope that she's alive."
Lalo felt his face crumple. "I don't think so." It had been almost twenty years since they were sixteen together, running for their lives, living on the streets in Russia. And then he’d lost her.
How long could a pretty girl last, alone in a faraway land? Lalo was the only protection Romina had.
There was no one else in the world who gave a crap about them then.
Lalo felt his heart breaking, all over again.
Remembering Romina hurt. And then it turned into panic.
As they pulled into the shade just outside the gate of the hospital, Lalo swallowed hard and grabbed Amadou’s shoulder.
“Would you mind waiting inside for me just a minute?” he asked hoarsely. “I’ve got to make an important call. It really can’t wait.”
Tsunami
AS CAIL WALKED AWAY FROM FARID’S restaurant in the heart of Fez, her shoulders buzzed with the memory of Jonah’s embrace.
He’d hugged her. Goodbye.
“So I guess I’ll see you in a couple days over in Mali,” he’d grinned, and both of them had made faces, still weirded out they were somehow, after fourteen years, seeing each other again. And going to work in the same city in the middle of Africa.
Timbuktu, no less.
Cail shivered, despite the dry heat coating her like a blanket in the narrow bazaar street. Honestly, it totally wasn’t the same seeing Jonah now, all trendy and thirty-six and working for a big cooperation that had a private plane to fly him into Timbuktu. He wasn’t the same lanky kid with braces Cail had blushed furiously around when she ended up in the folding chair next to him at Sunday school.
It’s not that Jonah Jones was such a hot guy. But he was Jonah. Maddeningly, the feelings that Cail had for him back in the day were still in there somewhere, wreaking havoc.
Cail rounded the corner of a stall full of velvety green and violet figs and blinked back an angry tear or two. Her shoulder blade was still tingling, where Jonah’s hand brushed her back when he gave her the friendly hug goodbye.
Jess had hugged her too.
Cail was still feeling sick.
Just beyond the fig stand was a diamond-shaped little courtyard, wreathed in crumbling bricks and ancient pastel-tone tile. A chocolate-colored fountain bubbled in the center of the plaza.
Cail swiped a hand across her forehead, trying to brush away the confusion that had sunk its fangs in deep ever since the moment she recognized Jonah cowering from her in fear on that bed in the hostel. She sank down onto the cool surface of the ring around the fountain and groaned, hugging the bright red purse from Thailand against her chest as she slid her eyes closed.
A fairy spray of water tickled the back of her neck. Against her belly, something began to vibrate, her cell phone inside the red purse. Cail was feeling very, very reluctant to open her eyes. She cracked them the bare minimum, just enough to locate the phone in her purse and make sure no petty thieves were lurking.
She so hoped it wasn’t Wara, calling to ask how her lunch date had gone.
There was no adjective that could describe everything that had happened in Farid’s today.
When Cail glanced at the screen, she was thrilled to see it was Lalo. The little Skype icon bounced around on her screen, Lalo grinning and wearing one of those hideous shirts he loved with cartoon things.
“Hey,” she said into the phone, then cleared her throat, realizing she sounded like an old smoker on some 4.99 a minute hotline. “Lalo. Hey. It’s so good to hear from you.”
“Cail.” She could tell right away that something was wrong. Lalo’s voice was trembling.
“Lalo? What happened?”
“They foun
d me,” Lalo stammered into the phone. “Someone’s here. They’re looking for me.”
Cail felt her mouth turn into sandpaper. “Who? The Russian guy?”
“Yeah.” There was a hollow pause. “Or someone else.”
“What happened?”
“Word on the street here is that a bounty hunter has arrived, and he’s looking for a tracking system. For a very large reward.” Lalo was freaking out. Cail could feel the fear steaming off him.
“A tracking system?”
“That’s what they called it.”
“But the guy didn’t find you?” she asked. This was awful news.
“No, I haven’t laid eyes on the bounty hunter guy yet. But if some guy like him is out for the reward, others have to know as well.”
Cail had to make an enormous effort to keep her voice calm. “Lalo, how could anyone have found you there? In Timbuktu?”
Lalo cleared his throat. “That’s why I think it’s him. All the psychics he has in his sick little programs…I’m sure there’s one who can do remote viewing. If they had some talent, they could probably pinpoint as far as the general area of Timbuktu.”
“So psychics working for him could just think about the…tracking system…and figure out Timbuktu?”
“Yeah,” Lalo sighed. “If they can remote view well, then yes. They would have to be pretty good. Maybe they saw one of the mosques, or something else that’s well-known in the area. Someone figured out it’s here.”
“I can’t believe it,” Cail whispered. “After so long…”
“I don’t know what to do,” Lalo said. “I called Rupert and he’s checking what word is out there, who might be looking for me and what they know. When are you getting here?”
She wished she could materialize there right this fricking second. “The day after tomorrow,” she told him. “We’re coming. I’m gonna keep you safe.”
She expected him to feel better after hearing that. But Lalo muffled a strangled gasp. “No. Cail. What I meant is…you can’t come. You should stay there, in Morocco. It could be dangerous here.”
“Timbuktu sounds like it’s always dangerous.” Cail narrowed her eyes. “Of course I’m coming. You should tell Caspian what’s going on. Until I get there, who’s gonna watch your back?”
“No one else can know,” Lalo said quickly. “Caspian’s already watching my back, and Johnny too, until the Ancient Text guys get here.” Lalo exhaled very loudly. “Cail, I’d love to see you, but I really think you shouldn’t come.”
“You know I can take care of myself, Lalo,” Cail said.
They both lapsed into silence. Finally Cail heard herself say, “I ran into Jonah. The Jonah. Here in Fez, of all the freaking coincidences. You won’t believe it, Lalo. He’s headed there to Timbuktu for work. What a small world.”
She snorted bitterly. Why was she telling Lalo this? Probably because in some small way she knew how Lalo felt. He was horrified that the past seemed to be catching up to him. Well, the past was catching up to both of them.
“One of the Ancient Text guys?” Lalo asked slowly. “Tall, bookish guy with glasses?”
“Uh-huh,” Cail said miserably.
“I met him at a foreigner’s birthday party. He usually walks around Timbuktu like he’s about to pee his pants from fright. He’s that guy?”
“Uh-huh,” Cail muttered again. She shook her head, dug fingers into her temple. “Lalo. I can’t wait to be there. With you. And I will, the day after tomorrow. Everything’s gonna be ok.”
She said goodbye to Lalo and felt her heart pinch at the seams for him. The phone burped in her hand as she was about to put it away, rattling against her silver and jade ring. A text had come in while Cail was talking with Lalo.
It was from one of her little sisters, Jael. “Victory’s been in labor 36 hours,” the text read in bright red letters. “Jonathan does not want hospital. Midwife thinks the twins are doing fine.”
Shock prickled at Cail’s skin as she read the message twice, blinking at the screen. Victory had been in labor with twins for thirty-six hours?
Cail’s older sister was forty, and like all of the sisters always had her babies at home with a quack midwife from South Dakota. Usually things turned out well enough, but a year ago Victory was pregnant with twins. Cail heard that after two days of labor, Victory begged to go to the hospital. The midwife ordered her husband Jonathan to confess his sins, because since he was the spiritual head of the house there must be some evil in their home that was making God keep the babies inside. Jonathan refused to drive his wife to the hospital.
“They’re just gonna do a C-section on you, honey,” he’d said to Cail’s sister. “Is that what you want?”
The twins ended up dead. Both of them were stillborn, with the cord tangled around their necks.
And a year later, Victory was having more twins. At home. With the same midwife.
Cail couldn’t stop her hands from shaking. She shoved the cell phone deep into her purse and wrapped her arms around her tight, willing away the bad, bad memories.
The OCD was now screaming, a tidal wave roaring in her ear, ravenous, not about to be pacified.
YOU NEED TO PRAY FOR YOUR SISTER!
And the voice seemed so right. Cail’s sister could be dying, right now. This time the voice was right. She had to pray.
Cail tried to say the words in her head, praying God would somehow keep those babies alive and save her sister from this awful, horrible mess. It’s just that she never seemed to get the words quite right.
And then it was her attitude…Cail knew she was full of sinful attitudes right now. She hated Victory’s husband, that midwife, her own sister for being so deceived and stupid. Cail confessed it all, asked God to forgive her so she could pray for her sister, but there was always more. Panic wrapped itself around her like iron bars. Cail sat there on the edge of the fountain, rigid and in a daze. People walked by and she knew they were probably staring but she just could not get up and walk away.
It was starting to get dark. The panic got worse, because in the back of her mind Cail knew she was supposed to meet Alejo and Wara back where they’d parked the car near that Casablanca café so they could drive back to headquarters.
She should just get up and walk back there and meet them. But Cail couldn’t move. Moving seemed impossible.
She wasn’t done praying yet.
She hadn’t said everything right.
What if her sister died because Cail didn’t pray for her the right way?
Cail thought she might hyperventilate.
This was what happened when she tried to pray. And she’d been so, so stupid to try to talk to God about her sister.
She had to focus on something else. Right. Now.
It took at least a half-hour until she got her brain off the panic enough to get up and wander back towards the car.
She couldn’t think about her sister anymore. Or praying. Or Jonah.
Except in forty-eight hours she was gonna see Jonah Jones face to face in Timbuktu.
Cail had seen a pharmacy when she was walking this way from Farid’s. It pained her to do it, but she was gonna have to get out the prescription wadded up in her purse and start taking the pills again.
She’d been off medicine for three whole years, but after this afternoon, Cail knew things weren’t gonna get any better without a little help.
It really sucked to admit defeat.
Fade to Black
SOMEWHERE IN THE DUSTY LABYRINTH OF ancient Fez, there was supposed to be a Western Union shop. Alejo and Wara walked side by side, dodging mangy street dogs and plump ladies carting heavy market bags.
Alejo wasn’t having much luck keeping up a conversation with Wara as they scanned the signs for the familiar little yellow Western Union square. Alejo hated how her lips pinched together at the corners into a puckered line. She was really freaked that Marquez was going to show up at any minute, even though that was impossible. She hadn't really believed Ale
jo's explanation that for Marquez to track Wara would take some time.
Alejo hated Lázaro for doing this to her. Whatever Lázaro's reasons for trying to hurt Wara, that decision had sealed his fate.
Alejo couldn’t let him go.
He cracked his neck to one side and tried to wipe his face clean of emotion. If looks could kill, the Arabic carpet shop sign they had just passed would be swimming with the sharks.
The question that she decided to ask pierced right through his heart like a lance. “Did you know them very well? The kids that didn’t make it, and Amadou’s wife?”
Alejo didn’t even look at her, but he felt his nose twitch. The sun kept baking down on them, and he kept scanning the buildings for the sign.
“We played with the kids. Sometimes,” he heard himself croak. “Yeah, we were there for four months before…last week. So we got to know the kids. And Amadou and Amy were heroes. The other day Rupert talked about that documentary they were in? It’s because they headed up this huge operation to save manuscripts from the rebels, last time they took over Timbuktu in 2012. Amadou’s operation smuggled out thousands of manuscripts, that got safely to Europe. That’s why AQIM hates Amadou so much. That and because he and Amy converted from Islam.”
“Was his wife in the school when it burned?”
Alejo didn’t know if he’d ever be ready to talk about this. He saw Amy grinning at the school kids, wearing dangly gold earrings with a huge hoop nose ring and tie-dyed dresses. She’d always kind of reminded him of a darker, plumper Wara, all laid-back and hippy and a little bit snotty.
“She was killed by AQIM,” Alejo choked out.
And now he was supposed to keep Wara safe from Lázaro Marquez.
"Hey, I think I see it," Wara said from his side. She sounded sober, probably still thinking about what happened in Timbuktu.
Sure enough, a flash of yellow caught Alejo’s eye. A Western Union sign was taped into a dank window, next to a chipped wooden door with a green copper bell. Moroccans sure knew how to stuff the maximum number of shops into the tiniest possible building. There was another carpet shop sign right under the Western Union one, and six stories of gray-toned apartments clawed for the sky above the shops.
Burn (Story of CI #3) Page 10