by DV Berkom
“Like the mythological beings?”
Kadeem nodded. “She reminded me of an imp, actually.”
“Why is that?”
“Oh, just something about her. She was small for her age, and her eyes slanted at the corners.”
“Where is this little girl now?”
“I believe she left with the reporter a few hours ago.”
“I see.”
“Well, hopefully the article the reporter writes will raise some awareness of what’s happening to the children.”
“Yes, hopefully.” She stopped, and he did the same. “What was the total number missing again?”
“Eight.” The actual number had been more than double that, but he didn’t want the director or anyone else to know about the secret place in the desert. Which reminded him, he was due to make a supply run.
She sighed. “So many. And all orphaned by the war.”
“Yes.” The abductions appeared to be a systematic removal of children who had no families.
“And you’re sure there have been no further abductions?”
“Absolutely certain. Thankfully, the appearance of parentless children has slowed to a trickle.” A lie, but Kadeem was in charge of intake so the director would never know. He made certain all the children that came to them were accounted for on the camp’s spreadsheet if they belonged to families. If not, then there would be no record and he would spirit them off to the secret camp he and Dr. Dahmani had created. Until the mystery of the abductions had been solved, Kadeem refused to take chances with their lives. The less the director knew, the better.
“I see.” She resumed walking. “That seems odd, doesn’t it? In light of the number we were receiving each day? It’s as if someone turned off the faucet.”
“Not necessarily. There has been a major reduction in villages being shelled since the United States and Russia joined with Libya to chase Izz Al-Din from this area. Less shelling means fewer refugees.”
“You have a point. It just seems odd to me.” She gave him a tired smile. “Have a good night, Kadeem. And thank you for all that you do.”
Kadeem bowed his head. “You are most welcome.”
Director La Pointe continued to her quarters, leaving him to his thoughts.
Were her parting words a tacit understanding of all that he was doing to keep the children safe? He thought back to the last few weeks, wondering if he had let anything slip. He didn’t think that he had, but she was sharp. He didn’t want her to have knowledge of what he’d done if the authorities came to the camp with questions. His secret camp was not sanctioned by either We Care International or the Libyan government. Discovery would certainly close them down.
And then where would the children go? No, for now the secret camp was the only solution. He had his suspicions about one of the guards who covered the gate. Until Kadeem knew the guard wasn’t involved, he would refuse to put the children in danger.
13
THE SHAKING JOLTED her awake.
Leine groaned and tried to shift position to alleviate the pain in her arm, but there was some sort of restraint across her chest and she couldn’t move. She forced her eyes open. The night sky juddered above her, filled with brilliant stars. Gas fumes clogged her throat and nose. A cough welled up deep within her but was lost to the sound of an engine’s sputtering whine.
Where am I? She closed her eyes to counteract the nausea climbing her throat. Focusing on the throbbing in her arm and working to keep her head still against the heavy jostling, she tried to remember what happened. Snippets came to her but then evaporated before she could grasp their significance.
There’d been an explosion.
And death.
The sound of the engine cutting in and out matched the jolts of pain, so she assumed she was being transported. But by whom? And where were they taking her?
She attempted to speak, to get some kind of clarity, but her desiccated tongue wouldn’t let her. Shouting above the noise of the engine took too much effort. Fighting to remain conscious, she finally gave up and sank back down into her murky dreams.
“EAGLE ONE TO BASE, come in.”
Ahmed jerked awake, rolled off his cot, and raced to the radio. He keyed the mic and answered, “This is base, Eagle One, over.”
His older sister, Habiba, joined him at the table and turned on the lantern so Ahmed could see the controls.
“There’s been an accident. We need Doctor Dahmani, over.”
Ahmed widened his eyes. “Who is it? Who’s hurt?”
“Just tell Assistant Director Hakim to bring the doctor to the club. An American woman’s been hurt, over.” They’d decided to call the orphan’s hiding place “the club” in case anyone was listening.
Habiba took the mic from Ahmed. “How badly is she hurt? The doctor will want to know what kind of supplies she needs to bring with her.”
There was a pause. “I think she’s been shot in the arm, and she has a deep cut on her head. There’s a lot of blood...” Yusuf’s words trailed off.
“Roger that. Where are you?” she asked.
“At the club. Please hurry.”
Ahmed took the mic from his sister and asked, “Is it the American woman who came to the camp tonight?”
“Probably. I don’t know. How many Americans have you seen lately?” The annoyance in his older brother’s voice was obvious. Ahmed released the mic and got up from the table.
Habiba grabbed Ahmed’s coat off the back of a chair and tossed it to him. “Go get the assistant director and tell him to bring the doctor. And don’t arouse suspicion.”
Ahmed nodded as he threw on his jacket and ran out the door.
It was past curfew and he shouldn’t be out, but Ahmed knew a shortcut that would avoid security. Careful to stay hidden, he raced through the camp toward the assistant director’s quarters. Everyone else was in their homes, except for the security guards who roamed the streets at night. Normally, he would make a game out of avoiding them, and he hadn’t been caught yet. Running through the camp at such a late hour gave him a little thrill, as though he was a superhero off to help someone in trouble.
He rounded a corner and spotted the assistant director’s tent. A light glowed from inside—the only lamp still on throughout the compound, not including the streetlights.
He ran to the tent’s entrance and paused for a moment to catch his breath. Keeping his voice low, he whispered, “Mr. Hakim? It’s me, Ahmed.”
There was a rustle of paper from inside, and a moment later Kadeem Hakim opened the door. He stood aside to let Ahmed enter.
“What are you doing out so late?”
“The doctor. You need to bring...the doctor to the club.” He leaned over, clutching his side.
“Is someone hurt?”
“The American lady. The one who was here earlier tonight.”
“The reporter?” Kadeem froze. “She’s at the club?”
Ahmed nodded, wondering why he looked unwell.
Kadeem sank onto his cot. Little beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.
“What’s wrong? She’s very nice. She won’t tell.”
A look of annoyance flashed across the assistant director’s face. “She’s a reporter. Do you understand what that means?”
“She only wants to help.” Had he done something wrong? All Ahmed wanted to do was help.
Kadeem’s expression softened. “You’re right. She does.” He rose from the cot and strode to the door. Ahmed followed him outside. “Thank you for coming to get me. I’ll take things from here.”
“Can I go with you?” Ahmed asked.
“You can accompany me to Doctor Dahmani’s, but after that, you must go back to your home and keep your sister safe. Can you do that for me?”
Ahmed nodded. “Yes, of course.”
“That’s good. She needs you.”
DEEP IN SHADOW, OMAR watched the two leave the assistant director’s tent and fell in behind them. The security guard kept his distance
so he wouldn’t arouse suspicion. Curious as to why Habiba’s little brother would be out this late at night, he wasn’t surprised when Kadeem Hakim emerged from the tent with the child.
Probably just taking him back to his sister. Still, he decided to follow them in case there was cause to file a report. The missing children had everyone on high alert, and he didn’t want anything problematic to happen on his watch.
He followed them through camp, expecting them to turn down the street that led to the home Ahmed shared with his older sister and brother. But they didn’t. His interest aroused, the guard continued to follow the two of them to another tent belonging to one of the medical personnel who lived in the camp. Careful to stay out of sight, Omar watched the two pause near the entrance before Dr. Dahmani appeared at the door. The assistant director said something to her and she disappeared back inside. A few minutes later she reappeared carrying a large backpack, and the three of them headed farther into camp.
Omar continued to follow them, wondering which family was in need of the doctor’s services that night. At the corner of Ahmed’s street, the boy peeled off and headed toward home, while the other two made their way to the back of the camp near the maintenance area, bypassing the last of the housing that had been erected. They stopped at the back gate that led to the employee parking lot outside the camp. The doctor waited as Hakim produced his keyring to unlock the lock, and ushered her through.
Omar dug in his pocket for his keys as he strode to the gate and unlocked it to see where they went, but they were already gone.
Something odd in a section of fence a short distance from the door caught his attention and he walked over to investigate. It didn’t take long before he found several neat cuts through the metal. He pulled back on the wire, creating an opening wide enough for an adult to slip through. On the other side, there were tracks leading into the desert. Omar pushed through the opening and bent down to study them. The first were two tire tracks, one after the other like a motorbike, followed by a pair equidistant from each other, representing some kind of pull-behind cart or wagon. The latter cut deeply into the sand, suggesting a heavier load than the lead vehicle.
Nearby, an engine turned over. He looked up in time to see the camp’s all-wheel-drive passenger van emerge from the employee parking lot and speed into the desert, paralleling the tracks leading from the opening in the fence.
Where the hell are they going? Sprinting to his car, which was parked in the lot, he unclipped the radio from his belt and called Caleb, the other security guard on duty in his area that evening. He considered calling the director with his discovery but decided against it—not until he’d gathered more information.
“Busy tonight?” Caleb joked.
“Actually, I did find something that requires my investigation. Can you cover my sector while I check things out? It shouldn’t be too long. I’m leaving the premises.”
“Want some company? It’s been very quiet here.”
“That would be unwise, don’t you think? If Director La Pointe found out we’d abandoned our posts, we’d both be looking for new jobs.”
“Good point. As it is, only you will be unemployed if this late-night sojourn is discovered.” Caleb chuckled.
“Glad to know you have my back.”
“Always, my friend. Be safe.”
Omar keyed the mic twice, letting him know he’d heard him. He climbed inside his four-wheel-drive pickup and put on his security firm’s standard-issue night vision goggles to avoid turning on the headlights. Then he started the engine and followed the tracks of the van into the desert.
An hour later, he pulled onto a slight rise and turned off the ignition. Just beyond his vantage point lay a small village that had been the victim of intense shelling during the recent war between the Libyan Army and Izz Al-Din. All that remained were piles of rubble heaped around several burned out and crumbling buildings. Partial walls reached for phantom roofs no longer there.
Omar peered through his night vision goggles. The tire tracks of the assistant director’s vehicle led to one of the structures that still boasted a majority of its walls.
No lights were visible, and nothing moved. He waited a moment before he started the engine and edged forward with his lights off, careful to stay within the tracks left by the other vehicle. Leery of landmines and other deadly traps—likely if this had been an Izz Al-Din stronghold—he carefully maneuvered the truck down the gently sloping rise and closer to the burned out village.
He parked several yards from the nearest building and exited the vehicle. Now on foot, he slid the semiauto from his shoulder holster and followed the tire tracks around to the rear of the building. The van was parked outside next to a large door. There was no one inside the vehicle. He stepped back and studied the structure. From what he could see, the upper floor was missing its roof.
He continued around the structure to the other side and stopped when he noticed a flicker of candlelight shining through an open window. He edged closer to peer inside. Several children slept side by side on the floor of the large room. There was no furniture to speak of, but each child had their own bedroll. A second doorway led to a dimly lit room farther back in the building.
Was the assistant director involved in kidnapping the missing children? He’d always liked Kadeem, anxious though he was, and Omar had just assumed he was overworked. Especially as the person who reported directly to La Pointe. That woman would make anyone nervous. In light of this new development, Kadeem’s uneasy manner took on new significance.
There was movement inside the larger room, and he stepped back from the window. Although no streetlights were on in the village due to lack of electricity, the moon was bright enough to silhouette an adult male peering through a dark window, possibly alerting the occupants to his presence. Instead, he continued along the outside of the building, stopping at the window belonging to the room in the back. Light shone through the opening and he edged closer.
Inside, several people crowded around a mattress on the floor. The assistant director was there, as was Dr. Dahmani, who was in the process of bandaging the arm of a woman lying on the mattress. He recognized one of the onlookers as Ahmed’s older brother, Yusuf.
His heart beat faster with the excitement of discovery. He returned to his vehicle, satisfied he had enough information to bring to Director La Pointe.
14
LEINE AWOKE THE second time in a dark room lit by a lone lamp. A young woman she didn’t know attended to her arm, which hurt like hell. More shapes crowded around her, but she couldn’t see clearly. The smell of rubbing alcohol permeated the air. She tried to touch her head to see if she was bleeding, but the woman murmured something and guided her arm back to her side.
Leine glanced upward, expecting to see stars, but the darkness above her was absolute. She closed her eyes and tried to remember, but only shapes and sounds and blurred images would appear. The deep throb at her temple reminded her that she’d been hurt, but that was all she could remember.
“Where am I?” she tried to say, but her tongue wouldn’t work. Her mouth was as dry as the Sahara and she would have killed for a glass of water. The woman murmured something unintelligible again before returning to her task. A transfusion bag full of blood had been secured to the wall above Leine’s head. The dark liquid dripped into a tube that snaked down to the top of her hand where a needle had been inserted and taped over to hold it in place.
Fatigue overwhelmed her once more and she lost herself to the void, thankful for a reprieve from the pain.
LEINE OPENED HER EYES for a brief moment but then quickly closed them. She waited for the nausea to pass before she tried again.
“She’s awake!”
Leine tracked the direction of the voice. The flickering light from an electric lamp illuminated the cinderblock room. Two young boys dressed in faded jeans and T-shirts stood in the open doorway. Both appeared unable to contain their excitement.
She was lying on a thin mat
tress. Leine struggled to rise, but found her left arm was still tethered to the bag of blood, which made it difficult to push up to a sitting position. Using her good arm and digging her heels into the padding, she slid back, then pushed herself upright so that she was propped against the wall.
A large adhesive pad graced her side near her ribcage, and clean white gauze encased her upper left arm. She touched the side of her head. More bandages.
“Can I have some water?” she rasped in Arabic. The little boys in the doorway giggled and disappeared into the other room. Leine leaned her head against the wall.
Even though the room was lit by a single lantern, it was easy to see that the structure had been a casualty of war. Black scorch marks covered the gray walls from the open window to the doorway. She hadn’t seen stars when she looked up, telling her there was at least a roof above her.
Where the hell am I? On first impression, she was in some sort of structure that would have been condemned in a less war-torn area. In this part of Libya it would be considered a real find by displaced refugees. She considered the makeshift blood transfusion, most likely done by someone familiar with field medicine.
All was quiet. No vehicles passed by, and no voices floated in through the window, although insects buzzed outside. Apparently she was safe for now. She couldn’t be absolutely sure, though—even if they had doctored her up. Not until she knew who her captors were. Once she rehydrated, her strength would return and she’d continue searching for Jinn.
Except Rami was gone, and so was the Land Cruiser. A moment of profound sadness for Rami’s death surged through her. He’d survived the slave trade only to be killed by an RPG in the desert, his family a thousand miles away. Leine was convinced they’d been hit by a rocket-propelled grenade. What she didn’t know yet was who wanted them dead.
Or who knew her real purpose.
Was it the man who’d been after Jinn in the medina? If so, how did he track them to the refugee camp, and why didn’t he attack earlier? There’d been multiple opportunities on the way to Qaram, as well as to the camp. Neither she nor Rami had noticed a tail. And where the hell was the kid?
