by A J Fontenot
After a moment more, Marisol turned and motioned her over.
Mandrell went to sit in a booth in a far corner of the room.
Erin walked up to Marisol. “He wanted to make sure you were okay,” she told her.
Erin and Marisol walked over to the booth Mandrell was sitting in and sat across from him.
Mandrell looked at them but didn’t say anything.
“Okay, Mandrell,” Marisol said, leaning in. “What do you have?”
He looked down at his hands and then back up at the two of them.
“The stories,” he said, “aren’t all rumors.”
“Which stories,” Erin said.
“About people, locals, going to the lab and then disappearing,” he said, twirling his hand. “The lab is new and expensive looking. People around here have never seen anything like that. And so…the stories started.”
“And,” he continued, “I didn’t believe any of them myself. Just local gossip. But then, I heard a few more stories…stories that sounded more credible.”
He paused for a moment, and looked through the corner of the curtain covering the window next to their booth.
“And then, something else happened. Keeler,” he said, looking up at Marisol.
“Keeler,” she said.
“Yes, he…,” Mandrell was rubbing one hand over the other like he was washing them, but without water. “He approached me,” he said.
“For what?” Erin said.
Mandrell let out a sigh.
“They have a truck,” he said. “It goes around and picks up people who don’t have work. They tell them they need good workers for some-such-thing at the lab. Work. Everyone wants work. So it’s not hard to sell. The truck mostly stays out of sight. And it’s not always the same truck, so…,” he trailed off. “But they use it to pick up workers. And then they take them to the lab.”
“And…?” Marisol said.
“And they do what they do with them there. I…honestly don’t know what happens,” he said. “But I know almost none of them leave.”
“So what, they kill them?” Marisol said.
“I…I, don’t know,” he said.
He looked out the crack in the window shade again. Using his finger to pull it slightly.
“So,” Erin said, “how are you involved in this? What did Keeler want you to do for him?”
He looked up at her, as if the answer was obvious.
“I’m the person people come to…,” he said. “When people want to know the truth, they come to me. That’s why you’re here. People come to me, and I tell them, ‘the lab’s good, those are rumors,’ or ‘they gave that person another job down in Accra, he’s making more money there.’ That kind of stuff.”
As Mandrell was talking, Erin was watching him carefully. What he was saying now would explain the change in behavior. He was essentially confessing to human trafficking. But…something else was gnawing at her, something else she was still missing…
“So you’re saying, the lab has this truck — or several trucks — that go around picking up people who need a job. They take them to the lab and do…whatever they do to them…and nobody ever seems them again.”
“For most, yes,” he said, nodding.
“How often does the truck go around looking for people?” Erin said.
Mandrell looked up, thinking. “Few times a week, maybe a few times a day. Hard to tell.”
“Thanks, Mandrell,” Erin said, “for doing this, for telling us this.”
He didn’t respond, or look at them.
Erin and Marisol walked outside and got into the Land Rover. Marisol turned it on. The hot morning air inside was stuffy, and they rolled down their windows.
“Why do you think he told us all that stuff?” Erin said.
“Guilt,” Marisol said.
“You don’t think guilt would have gotten to him before now?”
“The thing with Mandrell is that there’s always an angle. It’s not simple. This is his way of doing something about it,” she said.
“Maybe…,” Erin said.
“Either way, we’ve got a pretty good lead,” Marisol said. “The lab’s not far from here. We can go there, hide, wait for one of these trucks to show up, and then if we get pictures of them, we catch them in the act.”
“But that doesn’t prove they’re doing anything wrong,” Erin said.
“But it will prove the story about the truck is true.”
“And…,” Erin said, finishing the thought, “that could be the basis for testimonies…plus, if those same people never show up again, we can—”
“Right,” Marisol said.
Marisol backed the Land Rover out, and they left Mandrel’s. She parked it behind a building in a lot on the edge of Begora.
“The lab’s not far, but we should probably walk,” Marisol said, “there won’t be anywhere to hide it once we get there.”
The two got out, leaving the truck, and began walking toward the lab.
35
Setup
Paul had been sitting in his Land Rover for about two hours. He was currently — he looked down at his watch — an hour and thirty minutes late for his morning appointment.
You spend enough time in places like this, and you get used to people showing up late. Or early. What a lot of Westerners don’t realize is that these things are just cultural. Some places, like America, ten o’clock means ten o’clock. But in other places, ten o’clock means more like mid-morning. And this was one of those places. But Paul and Lee Jun were both Westerners. And that meant something. Paul was actually a little surprised he hadn’t received a call from him yet.
From where he was parked, a couple hundred yards down the road, he had a clear view of the front door of Jun’s office. He also had a view of the alley out back, where the building’s rear door emptied. If someone came in or went out, he’d be able to see them.
And, a few minutes later, he saw what he was waiting for. Two men, both in fatigues, walked up to the building and entered the front door. One had a rifle slung over his shoulder. The other, a handgun, holstered. Police.
A moment later, he saw them both walk out the back. That was it.
He pulled out his phone, not taking his eyes off of the building, and dialed a number.
“Hey, boss,” came the answer.
“I’m going to need you down here.”
“You in Accra?”
“Yeah. How soon can you get here?”
“Er,” the man on the other end made a few noises, “couple hours,” he said.
“Good.”
“Everything…alright?” the man said.
“Get here as soon as you can.”
“Got it,” the man said. “Oh…and…,” he added.
“Yeah?”
“Need me to bring anything, or…anyone?” he said.
Paul thought for a moment.
“No, not yet, just get here as soon as you can.”
Paul hung up the phone and continued to watch. The police were gone. But they’d be back.
For him.
36
Stakeout
“There it is,” Marisol said to Erin, handing her a small pair of binoculars. “That’s the main entrance,” she pointed.
Erin and Marisol sat on a branch, easily six feet wide, in a massive cotton silk tree. The tree’s roots snaked out from the ground, as if some giant had started pulling it out and stopped halfway through. The tree was larger than any rooted thing Erin had ever seen. But climbing it had been easy, thanks to its network of roots and a large spidering limbs so close to the ground. From a distance, it looked more like an explosion of branches than a tree. Erin and Marisol were just two dots hidden, high up.
They were now watching Jonah Lennox’s lab. The front door Marisol had pointed out was a small nondescript door on a mostly nondescript white building. And if the building wasn’t currently sitting in the middle of the jungle, there would be nothing unusual about it at all.
Marisol reached into the bag she’d brought, handed Erin a water, and pulled out a gray pouch.
“I’m so hungry,” Marisol said.
“What’s that?” Erin said, looking at the gray pouch.
“MRE. It’s kind of like Jetsons’ food. Just add water and it turns into stuff you can eat. Ever had one?”
“Uh, no. What’s in it?” Erin said.
“It’s,” she dumped the bag’s contents into her lap, “mostly…er…I’m not sure. But,” she said, “they’re filling. And they last four or five years, so we tend to keep them around for when we’re out in the field,” she said. “Want one?”
Erin began to notice how hungry she was.
“Sure,” she said. Erin took one and opened it. She looked at the instructions on the and added the water. The bag started to hiss.
“Is that normal?” she said.
“Yeah, and it gets hot, too,” Marisol said. “Chemical reaction. Warms it up for you.”
After the bag cooled down, Erin used the plastic utensils that came with it and started eating.
“So…,” Marisol said, still eating her MRE, “what’s up with you and Ben?”
“Ben?” Erin said. “There’s nothing going—”
“Come on,” Marisol said, putting her plastic fork down. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed?”
“Well…I did…,” Erin said, looking away.
That does explain some things, she thought. Like how awkward most of their conversations had been. She’d had so many other things on her mind, so many big things, that she hadn’t stopped to even process the weird signals she’d been getting from Ben. And, honestly, she wasn’t even sure what her own thoughts about that were—
Marisol slapped her on the arm and pointed down to the road below them.
“Look,” she said.
Through the leaves, they could see a dark vehicle moving at speed, down the road, heading toward the lab.
37
The Man on the Ferry
Mofi stood, looking over the rail of the ferry, staring down into the white water crashing into the boat’s bow several feet below him. The wind was strong against his face. As he looked up, he could see the mountains surrounding the lake.
Lake Volta was long. The result of a flooded river, its length covered nearly half the length of the entire country. This was the second time he’d crossed the lake, though at different points, on the mission Tano had sent him, looking for Paul. And…he was beginning to feel like he was chasing a ghost. Everywhere he’d been, they knew Paul…but he hadn’t been there recently…or he’s just missed him, a few months back…
The waves and spray were becoming hypnotic. Leaning on the edge of the ferry, he thought again about the look on Tano’s face the last time he saw him. The urgency, almost panic in his voice. The image of Tano like that kept replaying in his mind. He’d never seen him like that. All of his life, Tano had been a strong elder in their community, one the rest of them looked up to…
Mofi turned from the edge and moved back across to the other side of the ferry. The lower deck where he now stood was filled with cars. Above, the ferry was filled with people. Several floors. The ride wasn’t too long, maybe an hour. And if he didn’t buy any food, which he couldn’t afford at the price they sold it for on the boat, he could ride for free. Until it docked on the other side, he didn’t have anything to do. He walked to ease the anxious feeling. The feeling that kept mounting the longer it took him to find Paul.
As he walked to the other side, moving through the crowds down on the lower level, something caught his eye, between two large trucks. He paused, looking at the spot. An eerie feeling struck him.
The boat rocked, and it was hard to get a clear look. Mofi moved closer, in between the two large trucks.
As he did, he saw it again. Or he thought he did. The same movement, now, again…still. He paused, looking hard in between the large trucks, both under the overhang from the upper floors. He focused his energy on letting his eyes adjust to the darker area. Trying to see.
Was it…the same man? He wondered. The thought, the implications, scared him, though he wasn’t exactly sure why.
Mofi moved around the outside of two trucks, between them and the wall of the ferry. Edging along. He slipped around, seeing no one.
Then, over his head, moving up the stairs to an upper floor, he caught the briefest glimpse of a red-checked shirt.
The man from the Nkonya market. The same one he’d also seen the day before. And the same one who stood out…not belonging. What was he doing here? he thought.
This was…wrong. Mofi knew something was wrong.
He looked over his shoulder and then back toward the dark stairs, where the man in the red-checked shirt had gone.
Since he started, Mofi had been traveling fast. Looking for the man, Paul. And not staying anywhere longer than necessary. And his path, as he thought back to his route, made no sense unless you were looking for someone…it wasn’t the path another would just happen to take. And so, he thought, to see this same man, several times in the last few days was…he didn’t know what it meant, but he had a distinct feeling it wasn’t good.
Mofi looked again toward the front of the boat. The shore was closer, he could see it clearer now. He glanced once more into the dark stairwell, before carefully following the inside edge of the boat as close as he could to the front, the exit point. He walked along a route that if anyone were looking down from an upper floor, he’d be hidden from view.
He stayed there, along the edge, waiting for the boat to get close enough to dock. He’d wait, he decided, until everyone exited at the same time, and then he’d blend in with the rest of them.
He leaned against the wall, under cover, and waited.
38
Lab Security
Keeler walked into the control room. In front of him, a large bank of monitors covered the wall.
His security team rotated every hour between watching cameras and walking the facility. The every-hour rotation was for the benefit of those watching the cameras, to keep them from getting bored and forgetting to pay attention.
Like what was happening now.
“Punch in there,” Keeler said into the silent room.
The man in the seat in front of him jerked, and he immediately looked up at the screens he was supposed to be monitoring. He clearly hadn’t heard Keeler walk in. The Bates GTX boots Keeler wore were known for that. Another reason he liked them.
“Yes…yes, sir,” he said, putting his hands quickly on the controls and moving the camera Keeler had pointed to.
“There…,” Keeler pointed to a monitor in the upper right bank. “Pull that view and put it on the big screen.”
“Yes, sir.” He clicked his keyboard in front of him.
The small image moved to the large central screen.
“Zoom,” Keeler said. “Stop.”
As the man zoomed, Keeler saw what he already knew was there.
“Sir,” the man began, looking up at Keeler and immediately diverting his eyes, “I…don’t know how they—”
“Shhh,” Keeler hissed quietly.
The man turned back around, looking at the screen, and stayed still.
“How long have they been there?”
“I…I don’t know, sir,” he admitted.
“Play back the recording,” Keeler said, in a voice one generally reserves for stupid animals.
“Yes, right, sir,” he said, his hands jumping back to the keyboard. The screen flicked as he rewound the video in five-minute bursts.
“There,” Keeler said, “stop.” He glanced at the timestamp on the screen and looked down at his watch. “Now, play back from there, in 2x time.”
The man clicked again. The screen adjusted and started playing.
Keeler stood towering over the man as he looked at the monitor. His six-foo
t-five, two-fifty-five frame would have towered over him even if the man were standing. Keeler folded his arms as he watched.
“Should I…,” the man said quietly, “sound the alarm…sir?”
“No,” Keeler said slowly. “I have something else in mind.”
39
Inside
The light above the keypad turned from red to green, and the lock on the door clicked.
Keeler pulled the door open and extending an arm the size of a small tree. It was the kind of hospitality that wasn’t meant to take care.
Erin and Marisol walked inside, not making eye contact with each other. Erin felt like they were being escorted to the principal’s office. She wished it was the principal’s office.
“Follow me,” he said, walking down an interior hall.
They followed him. Of course, they had to follow him, because his girth almost filled the hall.
They walked past doors and some windows, looking into rooms as they did.
“This,” he said, “is our facility where we analyze data we collect. And I believe, you, Miss Galli,” he said, turning to look at Marisol, “have been here before.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, not meeting his eye.
They kept walking.
“We saw you out there,” he said, “on our cameras.”
Cameras, Erin thought. Of course there would be cameras. Her inner voice began chiding her for the carelessness. Of course a group this funded would have cameras…
“And we thought,” Keeler continued, “why don’t we help them out.” He turned and gave them a hungry smile. “Why don’t we just show them whatever it is they want to see?” he said.
His strides, as he walked down the hall, we so long, it forced Erin and Marisol to walk briskly to keep up.
“By the way,” he said, looking forward, “how were the MREs? I never liked them too much, myself.”
