They’d become regulars at Jewel of Addis. The water was comparatively cheap, the wat was good, and they could always expect to find their table empty and waiting.
“Ok,” Rick said, resting his head in his hands. “Ok, let’s just think about this for a moment. Radical Dynamics. They, what, own Pharos? I mean, it makes sense, right? The jargon in those notes -- it sounds like it comes from a giant company because it comes from the Giant Company. I mean, fuck.”
Kai grunted, shoveling a piece of flatbread soggy with wat into his mouth. It was best to just let Rick get it out of his system.
They had followed Estelle Kingston to the National Museum of Ethiopia, where they shadowed her until Berhanu Abraham showed up. Hovering outside the curator’s office, they’d been able to eavesdrop on the majority of the conversation, gleaning enough details to fill in some crucial blanks that would be needed to convince Estelle Kingston of their identities. The hotel where she was currently staying had been booked days ago, in a room right next door to their own. The instructions to stay put would keep her out of their hair for the moment, while the signal jammer that Kai had installed would hopefully prevent her from checking in with her superiors and blowing their cover wide open.
“Estelle Kingston.” Kai recalled how bewildered the woman had been at their arrival. He’d felt more than a little bad for her in that moment, like teasing a puppy. Not at all what he’d expected of a Pharos operative. “She kind of sticks out in all this, doesn’t she? Why send her?”
“She’s got the pedigree for a job like this.”
“What do you mean?”
“Her dad, Martin Kingston. I’ve read his work. Dry stuff, but well-researched, and pretty seminal in his field. You’ve read him too, actually.”
Kai snorted. “I think I’d remember that. Actually, no I wouldn’t. I nearly fell asleep just from hearing you describe it.”
“The notes that Ibis gave us. They felt familiar, and now I know why. Martin Kingston wrote them.”
Kai stared at him. “You’re sure?”
“Pretty positive. Guy had a distinct style. Emphasis on had. Bummer he’s dead; but, then, we wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t.”
“Yeah,” Kai said darkly, settling back in his chair. “Pretty convenient, too.”
Rick rolled his eyes. “Don’t get started with another conspiracy.”
“You heard them talking. Martin Kingston knew someone was after him.”
“So, what, Ibis gave him malaria?”
“Weaponized microbiology has existed since the Cold War. Synthesized viruses, cultured parasites --”
“Or, hey, here’s an idea. Maybe he got malaria from one of the billions of malaria-infected mosquitoes buzzing around this place. Come on, we’ve got enough on our plate without your batshit theories right now. Like, what the hell does Nasim al-Faradi want with the Ark of the Covenant? Ibis said Pharos was hoping to sell it, but does Radical Dynamics really need the money?”
Kai folded his arms and said nothing. Rick stared at him expectantly. “Well?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, were you looking for a batshit theory this time?”
Rick chucked a piece of flatbread at him. “Don’t be a child.”
Kai dodged it easily. “Maybe there’s more to it than we think.”
“How do you mean?”
“Like, maybe there’s something behind all the stories. Maybe it can actually do some of the things they wrote about in the Bible.”
He said this mostly because he knew it would annoy Rick. To his surprise, however, Rick sat up, looking thoughtful. “You could be right.”
“I could?”
“There’s a theory,” Rick said, “that the Ark was some sort of primitive electrical capacitor. That it was able to generate and store a powerful static charge. Something to do with a combination of the gold and the arid Jordan desert. If anyone touched or opened the thing, they’d get a lethal shock. Which would look a hell of a lot like the wrath of God, if you had the right mindset.”
“Or maybe,” Kai said, excited to actually have Rick on his side for once, “it was radioactive. I think I read somewhere that the Ten Commandments were actually fragments of an asteroid that landed on Mount Sinai.”
“So, what, Radical Dynamics is trying to get some ancient uranium?” Rick’s face fell back into a frown. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Well, neither does your stupid electric box thing,” Kai snapped. “What use is that?”
“I don’t know.” Rick picked up some flatbread and angrily attacked the wat.
“Maybe,” Kai said, “it really is just like what they were talking about. Maybe Radical Dynamics or Pharos or whoever just wants to help keep the Ark safe. They’ve done a lot of good elsewhere in the world.”
Rick snorted, which proved to be a bad idea with his mouthful of food. He spent a while coughing and chugging water; then, with teary eyes, said, “That’s bullshit. People like Nasim al-Faradi don’t just hop around doing good unless there’s something in it for them. She probably thinks the Ark will look good next to her golden toilet.”
Kai shrugged. “Could be. Does it really matter?”
“Of course it matters, she doesn’t deserve it.”
Whatever that means, Kai thought, but didn’t say. There was a dangerous undertone creeping into Rick’s voice that he recognized, and it told him it was time to move the conversation forward. “Either way, we’ve still got to steal the thing. Speaking of -- how’re we getting to Axum? Tonight?”
“I know, I know, I got overexcited. Sue me.”
The entire point of posing as Pharos security had been to ride in Estelle Kingston’s wake to where the Ark was being kept. But it seemed Radical Dynamics was no better equipped to get it done than they were, which knocked the ball back in their court, with the added pressure of keeping up their charade with Estelle Kingston and Berhanu Abraham, both of whom were waiting for them to return with a solid plan in tow.
As usual, the job had grown more complicated as it unfolded.
“Alright,” Rick said. “Let’s take stock. What do we know about Axum?”
Kai had been researching the situation in Tigray during his downtime. “The New People’s Army for a Free Ethiopia have a beef with Addis Ababa and the folks running the country. They claim to be fighting for the underrepresented and the oppressed. They appeared in Tigray, up north, after the eruption of the Erta Ale volcano destabilized the region. So far that’s where they’ve been contained. Not many refugees have come out of Tigray since the first wave, but all efforts to bring relief supplies to the population have been met with resistance.”
“Meaning?”
“Airdrops get shot down and convoys get ambushed. Nobody can get a good look at the place, so nobody really knows what’s happening up there.”
“Sounds like a shitshow, either way.”
“The place went quiet for a while, until four weeks ago, when the fighting started up again. Skirmishes beyond the borders of Tigray. Sounds like the rebels have been stockpiling their resources and are trying to make one big push for Addis Ababa, to overthrow Parliament. That or they’ve begun to starve and are getting desperate.”
“Hence the travel ban.”
“Bingo. Which, from what I can tell, doesn’t look like it’s going away anytime soon.”
Rick was nodding. “A closed-off region, being run by a bunch of rebels who shoot anyone that gets close. And this has been going on for years. They have to be getting help from someone outside of Tigray.”
“You’re thinking smugglers?”
“I’m thinking smugglers.”
“Great. Any ideas on where to find the Ethiopian underground?”
Rick didn’t answer. He was gazing past Kai’s shoulder, eyes narrowed. Turning, Kai saw that the same kids who showed up at the same time every day were outside, some flipping on their skateboards, others lounging on the curb with a cigarette. Expensive-looking chains flashed around their necks.
&nb
sp; “I’ve got an idea,” he said.
* * *
“Hey.” Rick set down two crates full of heavy A/V equipment and nudged them towards the curb with his foot. “You guys want this stuff?”
Half a dozen faces turned, regarding him and Kai with wary eyes. The skateboarders had taken a break and were sitting on the curb, drinking tej and trading a hand-wrapped cigarette back and forth. Their gold chains and chunky watches glinted in the sun. They had a bit of the same scrawny look Rick recognized from growing up in the CDZ. Here it was less a product of malnutrition and hard living, but it evoked the same impression: these kids were the true masters of their city, in that they knew its secrets and pitfalls better than anyone.
One of the kids stood, cigarette in the corner of his mouth, and frowned down at the crate. He had the bearing of the group’s leader. In a bright-yellow soccer jersey and baggy red shorts, he could have been from any of a hundred cities.
“What?” His English was clear, but heavily accented.
Rick crouched, flipping the clasps and opening the crate to show off the wares. “Video camera. Shoots in 8K, and does a bunch of other stuff I don’t really know about. Gotta be worth fifty thousand birr, at least. Same goes for the gear my friend is carrying.”
The other boys stood to get a better look, whispering and muttering appreciatively. The one in the jersey was more stoic. He gave Kai a long appraising look before turning back to Rick. “Wey, I look like I got that cash?” He grinned, somehow keeping the cigarette in place at the same time. “Trade my board for it.”
“Nah, I couldn’t…” Rick made a show of thinking it over, as if he were tempted. “Tell you what, why don’t you just take it? I’m tired of carrying it around.”
The lead boy took a step back, eyes narrowing. The others picked up on his bearing, instantly growing hostile and suspicious.
“What’s the catch?”
Rick shrugged. “No catch. It’s yours. Sell it, use it, chuck it off a cliff. Though maybe you could help me out with something in return. My friend and I are looking to do some travelling north.”
“Not so easy, these days,” jersey kid said coolly. “That’s K’ebero’s territory.”
“K’ebero?”
The reaction among the gang was interesting, to say the least. Some shuffled uneasily; others sniggered, whispering to their friends. Jersey kid merely regarded Rick. “You’re new, yeah? Don’t know about K’ebero?”
“Enlighten me.”
“He’s leader of the Free Army. Like a shadow. Soldiers can’t catch him, can’t even see him, and they’ve been hunting a long time now. But K’ebero sees them. Finds them in the dark. He’s the boogeyman, yeah? Hits ‘em where they bleed. Prime Minister had some animals coming down from Cairo for a monster zoo, but K’ebero stole them. Used them to hunt the military like rabbits. Got even Addis millionaires wetting the bed at night. Everyone’s afraid of when K’ebero finally decides to come for Addis.”
Rick didn't bother asking what a monster zoo was. “You almost sound like you admire this guy.”
Jersey kid spat on the pavement. “Don’t like all the killing. But something’s gotta change, yeah? Addis steals farms to build more skyscrapers, ruling party locks folks up for disagreeing with them. Same people have been holding onto all the power for too long. So yeah. Maybe Free Army’s got the right idea. Just not the right methods. Don’t go up there, farenj. People die in K’ebero country.”
“We’ll take our chances. Can you help us?”
Jersey kid frowned, looking almost angry. “Aren’t you listening? Why you even want to go?”
“Well,” Rick said slowly, “how about this? I’ll tell you, if you tell me where you got all that bling.”
“Bought it,” jersey kid shot back at once.
“From?”
“A store.” His eyes hardened, jaw set defiantly. “What’re you, EFP?”
“Do I look like a cop? Come on, kid, help me out. I know you’re not getting your accessories from Amazon. Just point me in the right direction and you can have all this gear.” He tapped the A/V crates with a foot.
One of the other kids said something, raising his board. Jersey kid elbowed him hard, but it was too late. “What about your boards?” Kai asked.
“Nothing,” jersey kid said quickly. “Look, we bought all our stuff, alright? Straight-up.” He hesitated, studying Rick and Kai closely. “But…”
“Yeah?”
He took a drag on his cigarette, coming down to rest in a crouch. “Free Army is like everyone else. Even at war, they want smokes, bling, even boards. But it’s not easy for them to get in Tigray. Not cheap, anyway.”
Kai started to laugh, a deep booming sound that made all the boarders stare at him in surprise. “Sorry. It’s just kinda funny. You guys your crap north, don’t you?”
They hissed at him to be quiet. Jersey kid glanced around, as if wary of spies. “We get the stuff cheap, but we don’t go. Just send them off and collect the pay when the -- the delivery guys come back.”
“Not a bad racket,” Rick said.
Jersey kid took another long drag from his cigarette and passed it to a friend before standing again, chin jutting defiantly, as if daring Rick to criticize him. “It’s not just about the birr, get it? It’s tactical. Strategic. Culture can be just as powerful as a gun. We send them stuff, they have some fun in secret, and maybe Ethiopia hates each other a little less. Builds a bridge, yeah? ”
“Very honorable.” Rick doubted the boards or bling ever made it north; more likely the smugglers simply took these kids’ money and dumped the cargo. But he nodded towards the crates. “Pawn this gear, you could fund your operation for a long time. Maybe even expand it. Send some real relief aid up north.”
“Relief gets shot down,” jersey kid said. “Or blown up, or just stolen.” Still, Rick could see he was thinking about it. They all were, and whether it was a noble cause or the promise of birr that enticed them, he didn’t really care.
“So how about it?” Kai said. “Think you could introduce us to your delivery guys?”
Jersey kid took the cigarette back, nodded once in a way that could have meant anything, and turned to huddle with his friends. Rick waited patiently while they talked it out. He shared a glance with Kai and shrugged. Sometimes things just fell into your lap. Worst-case scenario, they could tail these kids for a while and find out where their smugglers were holed up on their own.
The skateboarders turned back to face them, arms folded. Each one suddenly looked ten years older.
“Come back tonight,” jersey kid said. “Midnight. Alley behind the place you just came out of. Bring the stuff. Then you can go north.”
“We won’t be alone. Two others, probably.” They would have to bring Estelle Kingston, at least, Rick figured. The longer she thought they were on the same side, the easier this whole thing would be.
“Fine.”
Rick grinned, and they shook on it, first with the leader of the group, then with each of the skateboarders in turn. By the end of it Rick was pretty sure he’d shaken everyone’s hand at least twice. After that the kids took off, leaving Rick and Kai alone on the curb.
“I was kinda hoping they’d take this junk off our hands right away,” Rick admitted.
“They remind you of anyone?”
“Yeah. Us.”
Kai nodded. “How’d you know it would work? Their age, we wouldn’t have given two adults like us the time of day. Probably would have just run a scam.”
“They still might, but at least we’ve got a plan now. ” He sighed, gathering up his gear. “Hopefully it’s not too untoward for Mr. Abraham’s delicate sensibilities.”
They began making their way back to the hotel. Rick was already brainstorming ways to spin the arrangement to make it sound less like a back-alley deal with some street kids, when Kai spoke. “This K’ebero could be a problem if he’s real.”
“If being the operative word,” Rick said. “The name means
Red Jackal. Pretty damn theatrical if you ask me.”
“Sure, but so was Chilton. Theatricality is strategic. Even if K’ebero isn’t real, the myth of him could be strong enough to inspire angry people to do things they normally wouldn’t consider. We’ll need to be careful up there.”
Rick nodded. K’ebero and the Free Army didn’t sound any worse than what they’d had to deal with in Houston.
“Speaking of which,” Kai went on, “I’ve been thinking. I’m not sure we should be bringing Estelle Kingston.”
“Ibis told us to stick to her, keep an eye on her --”
“Rick, you saw how she reacted back at the museum. Practically passed out just at the thought of going to Axum. She’s new to all this, probably never even left the office until now. She’ll be a liability.”
“Then we’ll keep her on a short leash. Look, newbie or not, she’s still with Radical Dynamics. She’s still the competition. We leave her twiddling her thumbs in Addis Ababa, she’s bound to get in contact with Nasim al-Faradi and blow the game before we can secure the Ark. Plus, Ibis promised a bonus if can do this without leaving any bodies behind. I intend on taking good care of Miss Kingston.”
* * *
In a sweltering car parked two blocks up, Booker squinted against the sun at the two figures ambling away from the restaurant. In one hand he held a small parabolic dish that was feeding an amplified signal to his earpiece.
“Even if K’ebero isn’t real, the myth of him could be strong enough to inspire angry people to do things they normally wouldn’t consider,” said Kaipo Villeneuve. His deep voice was tinny and scratchy through the earpiece, but still clearly audible. “We’ll need to be careful --”
The sound fuzzed, then cut out completely as the two rounded a corner. Booker didn’t make to pursue them, but instead leaned back, rolled up the window, and cranked the A/C, which had been off so as not to interfere with his surveillance. “Thank Christ,” he muttered. He let his head fall back against the seat and closed his eyes.
After landing in Addis Ababa in the dead of night he’d gone straight to the headquarters of the Ethiopian Federal Police. There he’d introduced himself as a “private investigator,” hired by a wealthy benefactor to track down his prodigal son. Booker hadn’t been too confident in his plan, but the police had seemed only too happy to lend a hand. Apparently the prospect of a privileged American running around their city with too much money and not enough to do was motivation enough to give him what help he needed and send him on his way. After seeing photos of Álvarez and Villeneuve, it had taken only a couple hours to track the two down in traffic cam footage gathered in the vicinity of the Jewel of Addis over the past two days. Apparently it had become their regular hangout as they did whatever it was they had come to Addis Ababa to do.
A Covenant of Thieves Page 26