guards out front. Nobody says it, but we like having one white guy with a gun around. So we call him head of security.”
“Whatever you call him, I’m surprised he’s not here.”
“He doesn’t speak Swahili, so I’m not sure what he’d do.”
“How about the police? They must have come by.”
“The GSU, sure. They poked through the trailer that Gwen and Hailey shared. I think they were more interested in Gwen’s underwear than anything else. If they found anything, they didn’t tell me.”
“Where’s the Land Cruiser?”
“They towed it to their headquarters in Garissa. I doubt there was any forensic evidence to find, but if there was, I can guarantee it’s gone. They’ve talked to everybody here, I wouldn’t call them interviews, more like, tell us what you know or we’ll take you out back, give you a working-over. Truncheon in hand.”
Truncheon. A good Irish word. “Anyone give them anything? Here or in the camps?”
“Not that I know of. They’re not good at sharing, the GSU.”
“Any Americans been here?”
“Four nice men with short haircuts showed up three days ago. Two had business cards saying they were from the embassy. The other two didn’t tell me their names. They wanted to take the laptops that the kids used. I said no, but I did let them do what they wanted to them here.”
So the agency and NSA were doing what they did best, chasing electronic intel. No doubt they had mirrored the hard drives. “What about phones?” Wells said.
“They asked about mobiles too, but I told them the truth, those kids couldn’t be separated from their handsets.”
“They look at anyone else’s computers?”
“Like mine or Jimmy’s? Now, why would they do a thing like that?” She pulled two water bottles from the minifridge beside the couch. “My one luxury. Have to have cold water.”
She passed him one. He drank gratefully. His thirst had come up quietly. The sun here baked out moisture in a way that was almost pleasant. Until it wasn’t.
“So, just to be clear. They didn’t look at your computer, or Jimmy’s.”
“No. Anyway, it wouldn’t have mattered. Jimmy practically chains his laptop to his wrist. Very concerned about computer security, my boss.”
“Any reason in particular?”
“Not that I’d know of.” Moss showed him her crooked teeth again. “I’m trying to stick to the facts here, you see. What I know firsthand.”
“That’s admirable. How about this, then? What did you think of the volunteers? Were they in the way?”
“The truth is that on a daily basis this isn’t rocket science. We provide food, water, basic medical care. The Kenyans police the camps. The refugees govern themselves. We’re not supposed to get involved with their politics. We can advocate for them, but our power is limited. That’s not just WorldCares, by the way. It’s everybody, even the big groups. What I’m saying is reading to the kids like Gwen did, working at the hospital like Hailey, it’s as useful as anything anybody here is doing once you get past the basic provision of services.”
A long not-quite-answer. Wells tried again. “You got along with them?”
“I had a funny moment with Gwen her first day. She came out of her trailer wearing a T-shirt that hardly covered her chest. I told her that wasn’t how we did things here. To her credit, she was more appropriate after that. Made the effort. Hailey and Owen worked hard, and even Scott. Though I didn’t like him much. Spent his time either insulting or screwing Gwen, from what I could see. Why she put up with it, I don’t know.”
“And how well did you know Suggs?”
“Suggs. Anybody ever tell you about the chairs?”
Wells shook his head.
“No reason they would have. A couple years back, the Kenyan members of parliament decided they needed new seats on which to rest their royal asses. They found these chairs that cost, I think, twenty-five hundred dollars each. The Kenyan parliament has more than two hundred members, so they’d be spending half a million dollars on these chairs. In a country where the average income is about two dollars a day. Naturally, the newspapers found out and made a stink.”
“And the MPs backed off.”
“They went right ahead. What I’m trying to say is that the Kenyans, they’re very friendly people. And they aren’t all crooks. Plenty of them are honest. But, blame it on poverty or loyalty to tribe or whatever you like, the me-first attitude runs deep. Suggs was one of those guys, we paid him well, he helped us, but I never trusted him. He looked like a gangster. That was intentional. He liked everybody to know he could work both sides. I don’t know if he set this up, but I wouldn’t be shocked.”
“But when you talk to staff—”
“If they know, they aren’t telling. And I’ve talked to them all.”
“Did Suggs suggest the Lamu trip to Scott Thompson?”
“Don’t know. But a couple weeks ago, Suggs and Scott Thompson drove off together. They said they were going to another camp to see if they could start deliveries there. It didn’t make sense then and it makes even less now.”
“You think Suggs set him up somehow?”
“I’m telling you what I saw. I can’t guess what it means.”
“Suggs was from Nairobi, right?”
“No, Mwingi, west of here. His family lived in Nairobi.”
“In Eastleigh.”
“No. He wasn’t Somali.”
“But he’d worked at Dadaab awhile.”
“That’s right. He was connected in the camps. But let me tell you something you might not want to hear, Mr. Wells. I don’t care what you’ve done over the years, how tough you think you are, you are not going to be able to go into Hagadera or any of these camps and crack skulls and get answers—” The last five words were delivered in a parody of a tough Mickey Spillane voice. “These people can see you coming a hundred kilometers away. And what will you threaten them with? You can’t send them back to Somalia, you can’t arrest them, you don’t know anything about them, you have no leverage. All you are is another mzungu poking at them.”
“Guess I’ll have to use my charm, then.”
“Good luck with that. And before you ask, I don’t have any great ideas for you. But I thought you should know.”
The warning didn’t come as a surprise, but it was depressing anyway. Wells took another glance around. No photos or personal items of any kind, just the desk, the fridge, and the battered furniture. “Tell me about yourself.”
“What do you want to know?”
“I’ve seen prison cells are better decorated than this.”
“Sentiment’s a luxury, as I suspect you understand.”
“How long have you worked for WorldCares?”
“Three years. I was at the Red Cross, but they stopped promoting me and Jimmy came looking, told me he wanted to professionalize WorldCares. He’d gotten dinged for spending too much money on fund-raising and overhead, not enough on projects on the ground. He said he wanted to do a better job.”
“And.”
“And he did. In Haiti and here. The year before I came, WorldCares raised five million dollars and only a million-two hit the ground. Last year it got up to sixteen, seventeen million dollars and maybe six million went to programs. About half in Dadaab. Do the math, we were spending twenty-four percent on programs. Now it’s thirty- seven percent.”
“So that’s good.”
“Yes, but if you look at it the other way, overhead’s gone from four million to ten million in three years. Jimmy makes eight hundred thousand a year, plus benefits. Which are big. He lives rent-free in a nice house in Houston, gets a new Lexus every year, flies first-class. Really, he’s paying himself over a million. Look at the way he lives, you’d think he worked for Exxon. Not a charity serving the poorest people in the world. I mean, he’s a right smart
