City of Saints & Thieves(48)

“Information, maybe?” Michael muses, making a note.

I tap my teeth with my fingernail. It’s true that in a dirty line of work you need to know everything you can about everything. “Maybe something about the militias?” I ask. “Or someone who worked for him? You know, Donatien said your dad didn’t buy the gold from the militias himself. He said there was a Kenyan guy who did it. That’s who Mama had seen out there making the deals. Any idea who he would have been?”

Michael stops writing. “Wait, so you’re saying she never even saw my dad in Congo?”

“I . . . I thought she had.”

“You thought she had?” Michael says.

“Donatien never really, um, clarified that until yesterday. But it doesn’t change what your dad did,” I add quickly. “The Kenyan guy was there on his orders. And she knew your dad was the mastermind behind everything. Donatien told her.”

“But she never actually saw him doing anything bad?”

“Don’t act like he’s all innocent,” I snap. Suddenly I sit up straight. “Wait. Mwika! It could have been David Mwika who was doing the buys! He’s Kenyan, right?”

Michael looks dubious. “Lots of people are Kenyan, Tina. And I don’t know . . . He would have needed to be away a lot, right? Doing stuff in Congo? Mwika was always around, with Dad or with us.”

But Mwika sounds the most likely to me. A loyal servant, doing his master’s bidding. “Hey!” I say brightly. “I’ve got a great idea. Let’s ask him!”

Michael scribbles something angrily in his notes. “I’m working on it.”

My glibness evaporates. “Are you even trying?”

“Of course I am! He’s not easy to get in touch with.”

“Are you sure you know where he is?”

“I know, okay? I overheard Dad talking to someone on the phone about the company where he’s working now.”

My pulse quickens. “Which is where?”

Michael stares at me for a long time. Finally he says, “It’s called First Solutions. It’s a security firm working in Congo.”

“First Solutions. That’s great. We can find him easy!”

Michael frowns. “Did you hear me? I’ve been trying to get in touch, but I can’t get anyone at the company to return my calls.” Michael looks frustrated, but he doesn’t know what magic Boyboy can do with just a smidgen of information. If anyone can find someone, it’s him.

I hear my phone buzz with a text. “Finally,” I say, seeing it’s from Boyboy. “I’ve got to go.” I stand up.

“What? No.” Michael stands up too. “I can’t leave the house. Mom basically grounded me until I’m eighty.”

For a moment I just look at him, and I want to say, How strange—a mother around to ground you. It sounds like something out of a movie.

“I’m not asking your permission. I have to meet Boyboy.” I put my phone in my pocket. “I’m coming back,” I add, seeing the furrow between his eyebrows.

“At least let one of the drivers take you.”

“So he can make sure I don’t run away?”

Michael doesn’t respond.

“Fine, but he’s dropping me off at Saint Raphael’s and I’ll meet him back there. And if he follows me, I’ll know and I’ll slash his tires.”

“Jeez, Tina. Don’t be such a Goonda.”

I think he means it as a halfhearted joke, but it leaves me cold.

“It’s what I am, rich boy. Get used to it.”

? ? ?

When I get to the roof, Boyboy is already there, enthroned in the safari chair again. His outfit is more demure today—a studded leather jacket and pants in a color he would probably call something like sea foam. His nails are painted lavender.

“You better not have forgotten anything there,” Boyboy says, “because I know you are not going back. Bug Eye’s orders. You stay here with me. We are done. This is it. This is everything.”

“Yeah?” I say, walking over. “We got it all?”

“Yep. A few more days of decrypting, you get your muck-raking dude up and mucking, and we proceed to my personal favorite phase of Tiny Girl’s Ultimate Plan for Revenge.” He cracks his knuckles ostentatiously. “Liquidating bank accounts! I’ve already picked out the bag I’m going to buy with my cut: a Louboutin clutch in vermilion patent leather. It’s the gayest thing I’ve ever seen, and my mother is going to have a fit and beg me not to wear it out of the house, but I will. I will wear it every day because I love it so, so, so much.”

“Uh-huh.”

He finally looks up at me. “Okay, what? Say something, Tina. You’re making me nervous.”

“Everything’s fine,” I say, and suddenly become very interested in a mosquito bite on the back of my arm. “Hey, have you ever heard of a security company called First Solutions? Michael thinks Mwika’s working for them in Congo. Can you see what you can dig up?”

“You know where he is?”

“Just that. But if we can find him, maybe I don’t need to wait on Michael to do it.”

Boyboy gives me a long look, then sighs. “Fine. I’ll add it to your tab. Come here, ingrate. I want to show you some things I found.”