City of Saints & Thieves(96)

Mr. Greyhill starts to breathe again, which infuriates me. “You’re no better than Omoko,” I say.

He shakes his head slowly. “No. I’m trying to do better. We’re exploring new sites, trying to dig enough minerals on our own. But it’s hard. The militia groups have so much territory under their control. I’ve been working with General Gicanda to try to clear them out, but then there are all these political considerations . . .”

“It’s hard,” I sneer. It’s all I can do not to spit at him. “Don’t you see all those women out there?” I wave toward the window. “Ask them if they care if it’s hard.”

Mr. Greyhill lowers his eyes. “We are trying to do better, Tina. With the other minerals, there are new international laws now. Monitors. Sanctions. For tin and coltan we’ve got good mines. Safety protocols, unions. Ask anyone. Extracta wouldn’t be able to sell these volumes otherwise.”

“But gold . . . ?”

“Gold is another story. We’re offering higher prices to mines that can show they’re not using slaves. But it’s not easy to shake the militias—they’ll attack mines like that, take them over. The government’s no help; they’re running slave-labor mines too. And even if it’s not Extracta who buys the gold, there are others—smugglers who are ready to take our place. They love gold. You can smuggle out one briefcase of it and get the same price as for five truckloads of tin ore. That’s part of the reason why Omoko had it out for me. He wanted to be a buyer again.”

I think of the weapons Omoko brought, the gold Boyboy had seen exchanged. It was true.

Greyhill goes on, “In exchange for Michael, he wanted both money and room to operate. And he would have been happy to keep letting the militias use slave labor. He could have bought gold at a cheaper price that way. For him it was about the bottom line, getting as much as he could in the short term. It’s about the bottom line for me as well, but in the long term I think having good mines will be the more profitable strategy.”

“So it’s just business. All of this.”

He looks tired all of a sudden. “I never said it was anything else.”

A nurse bustles in and checks the IV on Greyhill’s arm and gives him a cup of water. She ticks something on his chart and then she’s gone again. The lesson outside continues, a slow chant of numbers and phrases that makes me want to close my eyes.

“It’s still all so messed up,” I say, shaking my head at him. I go to stand by the window, drawing the curtain back. There are about ten women out on the lawn, reading from exercise books. I recognize a woman in pink from the first night we came to the hospital. She’s one of the three that was brought in that day. She smiles shyly at something the teacher says, and her teeth flash as white as the bandage crowning her head.

I make a decision. I let the curtain fall and turn around. “Mr. Greyhill, I’m grateful for what you’re doing to help me keep my sister safe. I really am. But I know you’re not doing that for me. And that’s fine. You don’t owe me anything. But you do owe my mother. And I intend to make sure you settle that debt. I may not be a Big Man. I’m small. Tiny. But please don’t make the mistake of underestimating what I can do when I really want to. I will be watching you. I will be watching what happens here. For my mother. For those women out there. You say you’ll do better, but it’s difficult for a leopard to change its spots.”

I walk toward Greyhill and place my hands on the rail at the foot of his bed. “Listen carefully. Soon, after we get back and Kiki is safe and you’re getting back to your life, a large sum of money is going to vanish from your accounts.” He opens his mouth to protest, but I put a finger up to stop him. “And a little while later you may receive a thank-you note from this hospital. You will be gracious about it and agree to fund all of their operations for the foreseeable future. Anything they ask for, you’ll give, even if it’s a new school or roads or maybe even a new maternity wing.”

I see his question coming and say, “If you don’t, if you even hesitate, it will be done for you. You owe my mother that much a hundred times over.”

His face goes slack, and I can see in his eyes that he knows I’m right. But I’m not done yet. “And furthermore, if you haven’t completely cut ties with the militias by the end of the year, I’ll begin to release information from your hard drive to the press. Yes, I have copies. And don’t even try to have my friend or me killed. There will be safeguards. Either Boyboy or I go missing, the whole of it gets sent straight to a dozen different international news agencies.”

I pause, letting this all sink in. “Am I clear?”

For a moment he simply looks at me, expressionless. Then a corner of his mouth lifts and a flicker of emotion registers on his face. I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure it’s a look of grudging respect. “Perfectly,” he says. “I would expect nothing less from your mother’s daughter.”





FORTY-THREE


What will you do now?” Michael asks.

We’re standing in the Greyhills’ yard, near the spot where we got our scars all those years ago. I know his parents are inside discussing Kiki and me and what to do with us. I can hear Mrs. Greyhill’s raised voice, and catch, “They’re not your responsibility . . . We’re your family!”