Burn (Story of CI #3) (15 page)

This wasn’t new to Wara. When they lived in the apartment in Rabat, Wara had sure seen Cail acting crazy many times, sitting there sweating in front of her plate without taking a single bite.

“So…why do you feel you can’t eat?”

It was always hard for people to understand, even good friends like Wara. Because when you’re mentally ill, the reasons don’t really make sense.

Cail's hand on her fork started to shake, rattling her armful of copper and black bangles. "Because I am not obeying God if I don't thank him for this food,” she said. She heard her voice rattling like the bangles on her wrist. “I am showing a sinful attitude by not being thankful, cause the Bible says to 'give thanks always.' And I'm also not being a good witness to the non-Christians in this restaurant, because I'm not bowing my head to pray. And who knows if I'm the only Christian they'll ever meet, and I didn't take my chance to witness for Jesus and then they will go to hell and on judgment day I will cry and cry because I didn't tell them the good news. And maybe I wasn't even really saved to begin with because I didn't show it with my actions by praying before I ate and being a good witness to the world."

Cail rattled it all off in a monotone, but inside she felt a hundred tones of panic worming around like snakes. Wara’s brows lowered. She did not have the best of attitudes herself towards Church right now, and seeing Cail messed up in the area of churchy stuff sure wasn’t helping her to feel better.

"I just have to make myself eat," Cail sighed, pretty disgusted with her brain. "If I can make it through the torture of the feelings for a while, eventually it goes away. I just have to ignore it." She snorted sarcastically, then stuffed the bite of cold pizza in her mouth and started to chew. She felt like her face was probably some sickly shade of pistachio.

"So, the Bolivian?” she forced herself to say around the pizza. She needed to just chew and make herself think about something else. “You think Alejo’s ok out there?”

Fear slapped itself onto Wara’s face. “Maybe I should go check.”

Cail shivered. Well, yeah. Yesterday afternoon Lázaro Marquez tried to kill Alejo, and it almost worked. Wara was sliding towards the edge of the booth when the saloon doors burst open and Alejo entered the Appaloosa.

He grinned when he saw Wara’s eyes on him.

Alejo was obviously very twitterpated with Cail’s friend.

The two of them had a few issues to clear up first, though.

Wara’s old boyfriend-turned-assassin. The work-related stresses from CI. Not to mention the violent history of how Alejo and Wara met in Bolivia in the first place.

Ok, maybe more than a few issues to clear up.

But all that was nothing compared to whatever was going on with Alejo. After what he’d seen in Timbuktu last week, the Bolivian was obviously tortured.

Cail could tell the guy was in love with her friend Wara, but if he didn’t figure out how to fix what was going on in his heart, it was going to eat him alive.

From the inside out.

THEY WERE ONLY A THIRD INTO THE Tuesday night episode of The Office when the Ancient Text troupe arrived.

Lalo was munching popcorn, scrunched up in a far corner of the king-size bed, wearing black sweats and Mario Brothers. He’d stayed at the hospital for almost twenty-four hours, so now it was time for The Office and some food. It was a little hard to hear the show over the rumble of the window air conditioning, but no one was complaining. It was probably only eighty in here, a marked improvement over the temp outside.

Jason and Anne were together on another corner of the bed. This would be their last night of The Office for quite a while, because tomorrow their family was leaving Timbuktu. They had bravely hung on through a lot of upheaval, but things were just getting to be too much. After the attack on the school, their mission was sending them back to the States, until everyone was sure AQIM was not going to come back.

Caspian and Johnny were over at the hospital, where Lalo would be going shortly.

There was still no word from Hannibal. He would probably give just about anything to not be missing tonight's episode. Al-Qaeda probably didn't like American sitcoms.

They all froze when they heard Moussa the doorman calling them from the hallway. The Ancient Text guys were going to stay here, at the mission compound. It wasn't safe anymore for them to live in the apartment the guys had rented before their little break to Morocco. Their company security wanted them together with the rest of the foreigners. The mission compound was way easier to defend.

"There we go," Anne said, eyes like steel as she eyed them all over an impressive fistful of fluffy white popcorn. "They're here."

Jason paused the nightly entertainment and they all filed out into the hallway. Anne was practically marching down the hall, lobster-red braid swishing across her skinny back. "Their rooms are ready," she announced, not even turning to see if the men were listening. "I'll show them where they can put their things. Lalo, you can catch everyone up with updates, security-wise. Jason, if you could go in and heat up dinner."

Dinner had been chicken with rice and tender little green peas with flecks of cumin. It was amazing.

They got the main gate open with the help of Moussa and his ancient ring of keys. Outside, an armored Land Rover idled, ghostly in the shimmery night air. Yancey, one of Ancient Texts’ security, drove the vehicle inside. Rick, the other one who’d been with the guys in Morocco, was riding shotgun.

Ancient Texts had a private airplane, all equipped with a bullet-proof lining on the bottom. Their pilot supposedly knew how to fly evasive maneuvers in case they were shot at. The plane had landed at the dinky Timbuktu airport and then the group had driven over here in the Land Rover.

As soon as they'd parked, the scientist types poured out of the back. When they felt the heat, it was pretty obvious they regretted getting out of the air-conditioned vehicle. Lalo recognized all the Ancient Text computer guys, the same ones who had been here until their vacation the week before. He had to acknowledge their bravery in coming back, what with the recent bombing and all.

The two South African scientists carried big black backpacks and silver cases with their computers. The Jerry from the States had cut off the mullet but still had a dark beard that would do Chuck Norris proud. Ashton the pilot was with them, long hippy hair flapping in the night breeze around a pudgy jaw. Ashton never wore anything in Africa other than cut-off shorts, plastic Old Navy flip flops, and organic Save-the-Planet tees.

The guy it turned out Cail knew, Jonah, could have been the heartthrob of the Geek Squad. It was confusing to Lalo how someone could dress like a GQ model and yet manage to look so utterly wimpy at the same time.

Anne got everyone installed in their rooms with military precision. When they all gathered around the kitchen table to eat, Lalo managed to get another plate of chicken with rice. The heat made him hungry. Jason and Anne hunched around the table with all the security guys and the scientists. All of them looked sweaty and exhausted.

For some reason, Anne the missionary did not believe in eating with anything other than very large soup spoons. Maybe the mission compound didn't have anything else. Lalo really hadn’t had time to search the kitchen cupboards.

Jonah Cail's Friend was slicing at his chicken thigh half-heartedly with the silver spoon, frowning a little as he scooped bits of meat and mushy white rice into his mouth.

Cail could definitely do better than this.

Lalo tried to make himself worry about the fact that if he was making fun of Jonah in his head it was because he was jealous of Cail. But strangely, he really didn't care. Cail was
his
friend.

Jonah cleared his throat and clinked the spoon onto the edge of the chipped blue plate. Anne was madly fanning herself with a pitted Styrofoam placemat that said So Many Pies, So Little Time. "So," Jonah drew the word out with a very long O. He was looking right at Lalo. "Lalo, right? I remember we met at the birthday party. For Jason." Lalo raised an eyebrow at him. Jonah was doing his best at a smile. He looked about to keel over. "I believe we have a mutual friend. When I was in Morocco, imagine my surprise to run into someone I grew up with. Cail Lamontagne? She's actually coming out here to work, tomorrow I think."

"Yeah, I know. She told me," Lalo said lazily. But his heart was not feeling all lazy and calm. Hearing Cail’s name was reminding him of how much danger she could be in by being anywhere near Lalo.

Jonah blinked, obviously trying to stay awake. The guy's pasty skin was about two shades lighter from pure exhaustion. He pulled the black glasses off and laid them on the table, pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, she should be on her way over from Morocco now. I hope the trip is going well. We'll have to catch up more tomorrow. Right now I think I'm just gonna fall in bed and sleep for a couple years. Ok, til tomorrow. All of us have an unbelievable amount of work to do."

Lalo munched chicken and peas, still conflicted about the idea of Cail showing up tomorrow. There was something very odd about this whole situation, though, Cail and Jonah here in Timbuktu. Lalo was one of the very few people who knew what happened with Cail and this Jonah guy all those years ago.

When Cail got here, she was going to be walking around armed, doing her job.

How in the world was that going to go?

Lalo decided to just not say anything. The look on Jonah's face was going to be priceless.

Lalo clinked his large spoon onto the plate, startling Jonah with the noise. "I'm sure Cail will be fine, Jonah," he grinned with a confidence he did not necessarily feel in this particular situation. "She can handle herself."

Jonah raised a dark eyebrow at him. There was definitely something uneasy quivering in his eyes.

Dominick, one of the South Africans, stifled a yawn and pushed back a plate sporting only a few grains of leftover rice. "Time for bed,” he said. “Tomorrow we have to work like the devil himself is on our tails. Because he is. There are still thousands of manuscripts to get into the computer, before AQIM gets into the city and decides to burn all of them. It could happen anytime, and Africa will lose one of its greatest treasures."

"Barbarians," Jerry muttered, then shot back a large glass of lemonade. The Chuck Norris beard was hoarding a little bit of chicken or something. "Religious extremism at its finest, once again."

"Yeah, it's pretty awful," Jonah shook his head. "We heard about the manuscripts that got burned while we were gone. But we can't make the mistake of blaming Muslims for being the only radicals. Weirdly enough, coming back here makes me think of some of the ways things were when I grew up in church. A really fundamentalist church. With Cail," Jonah added, eyeing Lalo. "Not violent, of course, but there are really a lot of the same weird attitudes."

Everyone was standing up to head off to bed. Anne stifled a huge yawn, hiding a mouthful of silver braces. Her eyes were looking rather bloodshot.

"Anyhow," Jonah said around a yawn he must have caught from the missionary lady, "one more thing. Any news from Hannibal?"

Johnny told Lalo that the security guards hadn’t even mentioned Hannibal’s kidnapping to the scientists until the flight here. Ancient Texts was probably worried their manuscripts guys would freak and not return to Timbuktu.

“We haven't heard anything yet," Lalo said. "No one's claimed responsibility, no ransom demands…it doesn't look very hopeful. Ancient Texts already contacted his family in Hungary, his brother I think. I'm sure they're anxious for more news."

Things were not looking good for Hannibal. The guy knew how to take care of himself, but there were a whole bunch of AQIM fighters out there. They really didn’t like Europeans, like Hannibal. Or Americans.

The fact that AQIM hated white foreigners was actually going to make Lalo’s life a little easier this week, at least in the area of finding the guy after Wara Cadogan. With all the kidnappings and bullets flying around, tourism in Mali was pretty much a hospice case. There were no foreigners in Timbuktu right now, except a few European doctors at the hospital, Jason and Anne's family who were leaving, and the Ancient Text guys. Oh, and Lalo's team, the crazy guys from the NGO working at the school right in the middle of all the violence.

The assassin after Wara was Latino…skin like Lalo's. Definitely not black. It was going to be pretty hard for him to move around a place like Timbuktu without being detected. And that was without taking into account the scars.

Amadou had eyes and ears everywhere in Timbuktu. If a new foreigner showed up, Lalo was gonna hear about it.

Word had already reached even the oldest Timbuktu granny about the Tuareg bounty hunter and the tracking device.

Everyone knew.

Lalo felt his mouth turn to sand. Around him in the mission compound kitchen, people were clinking empty plates into the overflowing sink and pushing chairs back up against the Formica table.

Everyone mumbled their goodnights and shuffled off to the rooms Anne had assigned them.

It was time for Lalo to get over to the hospital. Johnny would have to get back over here to stay with the Ancient Text guys. The four scientists were supposed to have a security guard each, but now Hannibal was missing.

Lalo felt the hairs on his neck standing straight up as he left the mission compound and stood there on the road of pressed sand. Somewhere out in the desert, a rocket launcher pounded into the dunes.

Lalo loped through the sand, heading for the hospital. Sand and dirt puffed around his skater shoes in lion-colored mounds. The stars overhead were florescent yellow and misty.

He blinked into the night air as his cell phone started to do a techno dance in his pocket. Lalo pulled it out, kind of hoping for Cail. He wondered how Bamako was treating her.

"Yeah."

It was Yancey’s voice on the line, the Ancient Texts security guard. "Lalo. Good news. You'll never guess who just walked in out of the desert. Hannibal." Yancey let that sink in. "He's back."