but also less hostile than the last time they’d seen each other. At any rate, he was open to talking to her. They went into the recreation hut and sat behind the billiard table. To evoke his sympathies and improve his opinion of her, she explained the reason for Negev’s presence and related the horrors that the Nuba had recently suffered. Having softened him up, she came to the point: A slave retriever was coming to New Tourom with more than four hundred Nuban captives.
“Four hundred?”
Nodding, she told him, with all the sincerity at her command, that her husband had sent her to Loki to find out if her former employers could arrange a redemption mission. “I was going to see Santino to contact you in Switzerland. I didn’t know you were here already till I ran into Tara yesterday.”
Ken removed his glasses, blew on the lenses, and wiped them with a handkerchief.
“When?”
“In a few days.”
He asked if she knew what were the retriever’s terms. The standard, she replied. Fifty dollars a head. “But he wants payment in U.S., not Sudanese,” she added, a dryness in her mouth.
He flicked his eyebrows and glanced at the blank satellite TV, on a platform hung from the ceiling. “That’s not the way we usually do things.”
“I told him that. I think this is his way of rewarding himself for the chances he took. It’s really dangerous up there. Maybe you could make an exception in this case?”
“Do you know this guy?”
“He’s not an Arab,” she answered. “A Nuban Muslim.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said. “We were planning to leave this afternoon. I’ll need to find out if the team can extend their stay, then go to Nairobi to put the money together. And I’d like to see if I can bring some media along. Four hundred—we’ve never done that many at one time.”
Feeling both appalled and excited by how easily he’d been taken in, she asked him to call her on the radio a day in advance of his arrival. The captives could be assembled near the airstrip, sparing the team a long trek.
With the first hurdle behind her, she went to Knight Air and begged from Fitz space for herself and Negev on the next relief flight to New Tourom. One was scheduled for that afternoon, but it was fully loaded. To make room for them, cargo would have to be taken off. Then do it! she commanded. It was critical that she get back immediately.
Michael was furious with her for disobeying his orders. Her safety, her very life depended on her doing as she was told. He wasn’t mollified by her explanation for her hasty return. He thought her scheme outlandish and didn’t see how she could bring it off. She begged him to trust her. She knew what needed to be done and how to do it, but she had precious little time and would need his full cooperation. It took a while, but she brought him around.
Accompanied by her phalanx of guards and by interpreters fluent in the various Nuban tongues, Quinette spent the next three days scouring the refugee camp for people who looked the part—the most underfed and ill-clothed. Michael had loaned her a couple of men to help select the cast. Working six to seven hours a day, she mustered four hundred and ten, then assembled them and told them what she wanted them to do. It was very important that they listen carefully and follow her instructions. Through three different interpreters—a very imperfect medium—she tried to explain the connection between the roles they were to play and the delivery of the rockets, guns, and bullets that could be their salvation. Her company appeared bewildered, but the promise of payment, in the form of extra food and clothing, to be drawn from the stores of relief supplies, got them into the spirit of the thing. They enjoyed the novelty, the respite from the monotony of their existence.
She held auditions, choosing a dozen men and women who would give testimony about their enslavement. Drawing on her past experiences, she created a story for each of them, then coached them and the interpreters on what to say. From town, she picked a bright young Muslim to act as the retriever, guaranteeing him a modest cash payment.
The effort was as exhausting as managing the relief operation. Her nerves felt like overstrung piano wires. When, five days after she’d left Loki, Ken called on the radio to say