Sam leaned away from her as she made the call. Her friend’s face filled the screen, her expression one of mild surprise. “Remi. Hold on. Let me step outside where it’s a little quieter. I’m at dinner with the crew.”
“Finish eating. It can wait. I just wanted to ask you a few questions about the books. For taxes.”
“No. No. I’ve been meaning to call—”
“Who is it, LaBelle?” came a male voice in the background.
“Remi Fargo,” she said. “Questions about the books.”
A man’s face appeared on the screen next to Renee’s. “I’ve been telling LaBelle she needs to call you to set up a meeting.”
Her friend nodded. “He has,” she said, then seemed to realize that Remi had no idea who the man next to her was. “Sorry. This is Hank, our new site manager. Hank, Remi Fargo. She and her husband head up the Fargo Foundation. I’m sure Sam can’t be too far away.”
“Right next to me,” Remi said, turning the screen to show Sam. He nodded at them.
Hank smiled. “So, what do you say? Set up a video call in a day or two? We know you must have questions.”
Had it been a minor issue, Sam would have agreed. There was too much money unaccounted for, in his opinion, to handle it with a video call. “Turns out,” Sam said, “we have to be in Nigeria next Monday. No reason we couldn’t fly in a day or two earlier and stop off in Tunisia on our way. Might be easier if we all sit down together.”
Renee LaBelle shook her head. “A slight logistics problem. We’re in Kenya. Archeological conference. How long will you be in Nigeria? Maybe you could come by after?”
“Hard to say,” Sam replied. “A week, maybe more.” He and Remi were driving out to the southern edge of Gashaka Gumti National Park, where two of their assistants, Wendy Corden and Pete Jeffcoat, had been living these past few months, overseeing the construction of a self-sustaining school for girls. Though nearly finished, they’d fallen behind schedule, and their goal was to have everything done before the rainy season started. “We’re checking in on one of the Foundation’s projects.”
Renee’s face lit up. “Is that the school out in the bush? Do you actually have students yet?”
“We do,” Remi said.
“Here’s a thought,” Renee said. “We could leave the conference a day early, meet you in Jalingo instead of flying all the way back to Tunis. Go over the books, pop out to the school …” She gave an apologetic smile. “Look at me, inviting myself. Last thing you need is us traipsing around while you’re busy working.”
Exactly what Sam was thinking. Hoping to avoid turning this into some sort of social visit, he nodded. “We’ll definitely be busy.”
Apparently, Hank was of the same mind, saying, “That’s a bit much to be asking when they’re trying to get work done. Don’t forget, we’ll have the crew with us.” He nodded behind him.
Renee turned her phone so that the camera picked up a group of people seated around a table. “You’ve met Warren, of course.” Her gray-haired site manager gave the slightest of nods, then went back to drinking his beer. “And one of my graduate students. Amal, say hi to the Fargos.” A young woman in her early twenties, her long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, lifted her hand, waved.
“Actually,” Remi said, “that’s even better. Isn’t it, Sam?”
Clearly, he’d lost complete control of this conversation—assuming he’d ever had control of it to begin with. “How?”
“Having not one but two women come talk to the girls. A professor and one of her students. It’s a brilliant plan.”
Sam had no clue how his wife had landed on that idea. “Did you forget about the dorm we’re supposed to be building?”
He wasn’t surprised to find that Dr. LaBelle’s mind worked in similar fashion to his wife’s. She gave a nod in her colleagues’ direction, saying, “We could always bring Hank. He’s excellent at construction work.”
“What about Warren?” Hank asked.
“Me?” Warren seemed surprised that he’d been singled out. “Too old for any heavy lifting. And someone’s got to hold down the fort.”
“Wait,” Renee said. “It’ll never work. The books are back in Tunisia.”
“No problem,” Remi replied. “We’ll pick you up in Tunisia and we’ll all fly out together.”
“Wonderful idea. Don’t you agree, Hank?”
“What? Yes. But we’re on a tight schedule ourselves. I’m not sure how we’ll—”
“Fortunately,” Renee replied, “I’m the boss.” She looked directly at the camera, smiling. “Get back to me with the details. We look forward to it.”