The Oracle Read online

  “Same, here,” Remi said, laughing. She glanced at Sam, her relief evident. Though they’d both been worried about Amal’s health after their attack on the road, she’d had no seizures since, and seemed to be enjoying her time with the girls.

  About two minutes later, Pete walked out into the courtyard, nodding at Sam, Yaro, and the women as he passed. He took a position in front of the girls, holding up two fingers. They stopped talking, their attention on him. “Nicely done,” he said loudly.

  The students clapped briefly, wide smiles on their faces.

  He waited for quiet again before proceeding. “What if you don’t hear the bell but you know there’s an emergency?”

  In unison, they shouted, “We come to the shed.”

  “A fire?” Pete said.

  “We come to the shed.”

  “An earthquake?”

  “We come to the shed.”

  “A shooting?”

  “We come to the shed.”

  Pete raised his brows.

  One of the older girls shouted, “We find cover.”

  “Correct,” Pete said. “What’s cover?”

  As one, they said, “A safe place to hide.”

  Remi reached over, taking Sam’s hand in hers, saying nothing. She didn’t need to. He nodded as Wendy looked over at them, whispering, “Like I said, a sad but necessary reality.”

  After the drill, the girls went back to lunch and then the classroom with Amal. The other adults returned to their framing of the new dorm, Sam and Pete on the roof, Hank and Remi down below.

  “Pete,” Hank called out. “Any more nails? I’m running low.”

  Pete, working next to Sam at the peak of the roof, looked down at Hank. “There’s some in the shed. Hold on a sec. I’ll go get them.”

  “No trouble,” Hank said. “I can go.”

  Pete glanced at Sam, who gave him a slight nod. Unless someone knew where to look, that tunnel was going to remain a secret. “Yeah, sure,” Pete said. “Should be a case of them on the shelf, right side as you enter.”

  Hank headed toward the shed and returned a few minutes later. “You realize you only have a couple of boxes left. We’ll be out by the end of the day.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Pete said. “I thought we had an entire case.”

  Sam surveyed the roof, where he and Pete had almost finished the installation of the plywood sheathing. Down below, Remi and Hank had made considerable progress on the siding. “Well, among the four of us, we’ve gone through quite a few.”

  “I could’ve sworn we had more,” Pete said. “I’ll drive into the village tomorrow and pick up whatever they have, then put in a new order.”

  “We could send Remi.”

  “Send me where?” she called out. She moved away from the building, looking up at Sam.

  “To Gembu, in the morning. Figured you could take Amal. Show her around the village.”

  “I’m sure she’d love the trip.”

  Around five the next morning, before any of the kids were up, Sam and Pete took their coffee and walked the grounds, trying to determine everything that needed to be accomplished before the start of the rainy season. They stopped in front of the shed but didn’t go in. The ground there, and in the courtyard around it, seemed fairly level. “What about flooding?” Sam asked. “Even though I know we’re on a plateau, I’d hate to see all that work ruined after the first big rainstorm drains into the shelter.”

  “You can’t tell from here, but the buildings and courtyard are actually built on a slight mound. It’s why we picked the sight. Most of it should drain outward.”

  “Just in case,” Sam said, “let’s make sure to order a couple of pumps.”

  Out front, the chickens started clucking louder than usual for that early an hour. Sam glanced that direction yet couldn’t see anything between the two buildings.

  “Odd,” Pete said, looking at his watch. “The girls don’t usually feed the hens until around six.”

  The sound of a car engine turning over stopped them short. “Who is taking off this early?” Pete asked.

  Couldn’t be Remi, Sam thought. She wasn’t planning to leave for the village until after breakfast. There was only one person he knew who was brazen enough to take a car without permission. “Nasha.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Those who are absent are always wrong.

  – CONGOLESE PROVERB –

  Remi and Monifa were cracking eggs open into an industrial-sized stainless steel bowl when Remi heard the heavy footfalls echoing across the courtyard into the open door of the kitchen. “What on earth?”

  Wendy, who was closer to the door, set down her butcher knife next to the half-chopped potato to look outside. “Sam and Pete just ran out to the front.”

  The three women hurried into the courtyard and followed the men between the buildings. Through the open gate, Remi saw their Land Rover driving off, but the dust trailing up behind it prevented her from seeing who was behind the wheel.

  “What’s going on?” she asked Sam.

  “Good question,” he said. “You happen to know where Nasha is?”

  “Nasha? Why would she take it?”

  He looked over at Pete. “Get the truck keys.”

  Amal apparently heard the commotion, almost running into Pete on his way into the office. “Is something wrong?”

  As much as Remi didn’t want to believe it, she couldn’t think who else might be responsible. “Sam thinks Nasha stole our car again.”

  “What?” Amal glanced toward the dusty speck on the horizon. “That’s not possible. I just saw her.”

  Sam looked over at her. “You’re sure?”

  “I’ll show you.” She walked them through the courtyard and pointed toward the shade trees. Nasha, a basket over her arm, collecting eggs.

  “If it wasn’t her,” Remi said, “then who was it?”

  Wendy and Pete exchanged glances, Wendy saying, “There’s no way any of the girls would take the car. They’re all honest to a fault—never mind I don’t think any of them know how to drive.”

  “Hank,” Sam said.

  He certainly had access to the keys, Remi realized. “Why not say something? ‘Hey, I’m taking the car for a spin.’”

  “A spin?” Sam looked over at Amal as though hoping she had some explanation.

  “An early drink?” she said. “Maybe he wasn’t thrilled to find out the school was dry.”

  Pete drew his gaze from the dirt road as the Land Rover headed downhill, disappearing around the bend. “Should we go after him?”

  “Let’s wait,” Sam said. “If he’s not back by lunch, Remi and I can go looking. We can pick up the nails then.”

  Pete nodded. “I’ll lock the gate.”

  Sam watched him walk off, then turned toward Remi, his expression dark.

  Unfortunately, Sam’s and Pete’s anger failed to lessen by the time they all sat down to breakfast. “Leaving the gate unlocked?” Pete said. “What if we’d all been in bed? What if—”

  Wendy reached for the coffee carafe, pouring herself another cup. “We’re all in one piece,” she said. “Maybe we should wait until he returns and find out what he has to say.”

  Four hours later, Sam, who was tacking tarpaper on the roof, saw the Land Rover approaching. “He’s back.”

  Remi was down below, sweeping construction debris from the subflooring. Pete was filling a wheelbarrow with dirt from the endless pile behind the shed. As Sam climbed down from the roof, Pete pushed the barrow toward one of the half-empty planters in the courtyard, asking, “What do you want to do?”

  “I brought him here,” Sam said. “I’ll talk to him.”

  Pete agreed, then went back to work.

  Remi followed Sam out of the courtyard to the front of the school, somewhat worried on Hank’s behalf. She knew that Sam felt responsible for every one of those girls. When they’d begun looking into building the school, security had been first and foremost in his min
d. He’d spent countless hours with Pete and Wendy on the design, making sure that the local contractors they’d hired were the best. When these same contractors weren’t able to finish the second dorm, he and Remi had dropped everything so that they could come out to help. In less than two days, Professor Lazlo Kemp was flying in for the same purpose.

  With the rainy season bearing down on them, time was of the essence. Having to stop work after the delay caused by the theft from the first supply truck and now the lack of nails put them even further behind schedule. And Sam’s face reflected that. He stood there, his arms crossed, jaw ticking, waiting for the car to pull up to the gate.

  “Sam …”

  He glanced over at Remi, but said nothing.

  “Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

  “Like put my fist in his face?”

  The classroom door opened and the girls hurried out, most running toward the mess hall. A few, however, wandered toward the front, Nasha included, curious about what the adults were doing in the drive. “Don’t forget that there are a lot of little pitchers with big ears.” She nodded toward the girls.

  “What if I promise to hit him quietly?”

  “Maybe I should talk to him instead. After all, Renee’s my friend, and he’s here because of his connection to her.”

  Sam nodded. “I’ll get the gate.” He walked over, opened it, then closed and locked it after Hank drove the Land Rover through.

  Hank got out of the car, holding up a carton of nails as if that explained his five-hour trip. “Figured we wouldn’t get much done without them. I bought all they had on hand in the village. Ten boxes.”

  “Very kind of you,” Remi said. “Except that Amal and I were supposed to go.”

  “Thought I’d save you the trip. Amal’s a lot more useful around here with the girls than I could ever be.” He reached into the car, pulling out a large cardboard box, no doubt containing the other cartons of nails. When he turned, he looked at Sam, who had walked up, his expression stony. “Before you say anything, I realize that I left the gate open in my haste to get out before anyone woke up.”

  “You did,” Sam said.

  “Yes, well it may turn out to be a good thing. Not the gate, my trip into town.” He hefted the heavy box and closed the car door with his hip. “While I was there, I saw a man getting out of a white pickup truck. There was a definite scar running down his cheek.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Rain wets the leopard’s spots, but it does not wash them off.

  – ASHANTI PROVERB –

  Remi glanced back behind them, seeing Nasha standing next to Amal. Worried that the child would overhear what Hank was saying, she turned to the courtyard, trying to keep her smile light. “Nasha, wouldn’t you like to join the other girls at lunch? I promise you, they don’t bite.”

  Nasha shook her head.

  Amal dug her phone out of her pocket, holding it up. “Let’s go take some pictures. It’ll be fun.”

  She hesitated, then took Amal’s hand.

  Hank watched as they disappeared into the courtyard, Amal showing Nasha how to work the camera on her phone. “You might want to watch that one. I saw her out early this morning when I took off.”

  “Amal?” Remi asked.

  “No. The pickpocket. She was sneaking around out there,” he said, indicating the part of the courtyard where Pete was shoveling dirt into one of the planters. “When she saw me, she ducked. Definitely suspicious. Probably hiding something.”

  The girl reminded Remi of a cat. Agile, light on her feet. Just yesterday, Remi had seen her in one of the shade trees in the lunch area, watching the girls below, who had no idea she was hiding up above them. “She was collecting eggs.”

  “That’s not what it looked like to me,” Hank said.

  “She’s just a kid,” Sam said. “I’m more interested in hearing about this man you saw.”

  “There’s not much to tell. He got out of his truck and was walking into the marketplace as I was loading the nails into my car. I don’t think he saw me, as busy as it was. I can’t say for sure he was one of the men who attacked us out on the road. I suppose it could have been a coincidence. The only reason I noticed him was because of the white truck and the scar on his face.”

  “So you weren’t followed?” Sam asked.

  “I don’t see how.” Hank glanced toward the girls lingering in the courtyard, then back at Sam and Remi. “I realize now that it was foolish for me to take off without telling anyone. I am sorry. Truly.” He shifted the heavy box in his hands, saying, “I’ll just put these in the shed.”

  “By the dorm would be better,” Sam said. “We’ll be working there after lunch.”

  Remi watched him walk off, then looked over at her husband. “Should we be worried?”

  “That’s a long stretch of road with nothing between where we were robbed and that village. Like he said, it could be coincidence. Just in case,” he said, pulling out his phone, “I’ll call Selma and have her move up Lazlo’s flight. Couldn’t hurt to have an extra body around. Especially if we have to go into the village for anything.” He called the number and put the phone to his ear, telling Remi, “Let Pete know.”

  “I will,” she said. Sam walked toward the office and Remi headed to the courtyard, where Pete was dumping yet another wheelbarrow of dirt into one of the planters. She related what Hank told them about seeing the man in the village. “Sam’s calling Selma now to get Lazlo on an earlier flight out,” she said as Hank walked up, looking suitably apologetic.

  He watched Pete work. “That’s some fertile-looking soil.”

  “Lucky for us it’s fertile land. We’re just moving it around, trying to put it to better use.” He wiped the sweat from his brow, then leaned on his shovel. “Not as exciting as a dig in Tunisia, I expect.”

  “No,” Hank said, bending down and picking up something from the grass near the side of the planter. He closed his hand around the item, staring out toward the two shade trees, where Nasha and Amal stood, watching the girls jumping rope.

  Pete followed the direction of his gaze. “So, what is it you’re looking for out there?”

  “What?” Hank, focused on the girls, looked back at Pete and Remi almost startled.

  “In Tunisia?” Pete said.

  He suddenly laughed. “Right. Forgot what we were talking about for a second. The usual. Excavating ancient Roman villas,” he said as a bell rang twice.

  “Lunch.” Pete rested the shovel against the wheelbarrow. “Guess we better head in and wash up.”

  “Remi,” Hank said as she was about to follow Pete. He opened his palm, showing her a gray carpentry nail a little over two inches long. “I have a feeling this is why we ran out.”

  Pete looked over at them as he pulled off his leatherwork gloves. “What are you talking about?”

  Hank showed the nail to Pete. “The pickpocket we brought back, Nasha. I’ve seen her taking things. If I had to guess, she’s the reason the nails ended up missing.”

  Pete eyed the nail and gave a casual shrug. “Maybe it fell there when they built the planter.”

  “I doubt it. If you don’t believe me, take a look for yourself.” He stepped back and pointed.

  Remi and Pete walked over. One or two they could dismiss as being missed when they were building the planter. But there were at least a hundred or more stashed between the grass and the base of the planter, which made her wonder where the rest of the nails were stashed. Remi looked out toward the picnic tables, where Nasha and Amal sat in the shade. Nasha looked up from Amal’s phone, surveying them as though she knew she was the topic of conversation. “I’ll talk to her about it.”

  Hank gave Remi a knowing look. “Don’t be surprised if she lies about where she found them.”

  “Ease up,” Pete said. “The kid’s had a hard life.”

  “I’m not being critical,” Hank replied. “Stealing may very well be so ingrained to her survival, she’s not even thinking about it
. Can’t change a leopard’s spots.”

  Remi was glad Nasha wasn’t within hearing distance. “I’m sorry,” she told Pete after Hank left.

  “For what?”

  “Everything. Hank leaving the gate unlocked, Nasha taking things.”

  “At least he wields a good hammer. And we’ve made up for a few days of lost work since he’s gotten here. The kid …?” They both looked out to the picnic area.

  Remi’s cell phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out, seeing a photo Amal had texted to her of a chicken that had hopped up on one of the picnic tables. The caption read Frum Nasha.

  Remi looked up in time to see Nasha returning the phone to Amal. “Our newest girl seems to be assimilating quickly,” she said, showing the text and photo to Pete.

  “What does Sam say about her staying? Assuming we can tame those sticky fingers of hers.”

  “Not unless we get permission from her guardians or the government. I’m just worried that if she is orphaned, there’ll be too much red tape and she’ll somehow end up back on the streets.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “I was hoping Selma might be able to find something. So far, nothing. There’s just not enough information out there about the girl. She tends to shut down when we try to question her.”

  “What about Amal?” he said. She and Nasha were bent over the phone, for the moment the best of friends. But when Nasha glanced up and saw they were still watching her, she ran off. “They seem to have a good rapport with each other. Maybe she can break through and get a few more details on the girl’s background.”

  Remi nodded. “Good idea.”

  After picking up her lunch tray, Remi joined Amal at the picnic table. “You seem to be doing better.”

  “Much better. Yesterday I thought about going back, but I looked at Nasha and I thought that if such a tiny girl can go through all that, surely I can.”

  “Speaking of, where’d she go?”

  “Out there.” Amal nodded to where several girls were jumping rope, chanting a poem about a robber coming in through the door. Nasha, her coveted navy pack strapped to her shoulders, stood on the sidelines, watching with a look of longing until she noticed Remi’s and Amal’s attention focused on her. She ran from the courtyard, just out of sight. “She’s a natural with an iPhone. But, then, most kids are.”