The Games (Private #11)(47)

“You did all this yourself?” I asked. “The clinic and the orphanage?”

“I had help,” she said. “Lots of it.”

“But you were the guiding light,” Tavia said. “It was all your idea.”

“I picked from a lot of good ideas,” Lopes said.

“How many kids?” I asked as we sat down at a table.

“At any one time the census is somewhere between sixty-five and seventy-five. Is that why you’re here? If you wanted a tour, I could have arranged it for—”

“Do you remember these girls?” Tavia asked, showing Lopes a photo of the Wise sisters on her cell phone.

The orphanage director put on her reading glasses, looked closer. “Of course,” she said. “The Warrens. Why? Are they the girls who were kidnapped?”

“And returned for ransom,” I said.

“Oh my God,” Lopes said, her hand at her mouth. “I never put it together.”

“We never told you who the girls were,” Tavia said. “Tell us about them?”

Lopes shrugged. “We have many volunteers like the Warrens who come through here, usually four, five at a time, so they tend to blur a bit, but I remember those two well. They had a rough go of it at first, but they turned out to be wonderful girls. If I could get those kinds of volunteers all the time, the children would be the better for it. Oh, this is awful. Are they all right?”

“They’re going to be fine,” Tavia said. “But you said they had a rough go of it. In what way?”

“Well, they came here straight off the plane. First stop. I think they might have believed they’d go to Copacabana or something, but that didn’t happen.”





Chapter 54



A SECURITY GUARD came into the kitchen. Mariana Lopes went over and spoke to him for a few moments, then returned to us, pushing back a wayward strand of hair as she sat down.

“You were saying that when the twins came here, they thought they were going to Copacabana?” Tavia said.

“I’m saying they were shocked by the poverty,” Lopes said. “You could tell it really bothered them. They were well aware that there were poor people in the world, but this was clearly the first time they’d seen it in person. They kept getting tears in their eyes, and on the second or third day, I overheard one of them, I can’t remember which, telling the other that she didn’t know if she could take it, seeing kids suffering when they’d been given so much.”

“But they got through the shock?” Tavia said.

Lopes nodded. “I walked over and told them that this was the point of volunteering. They were giving back because of all that they’d been given. That seemed to change their attitude. And they’d both studied Portuguese before they came, so they could talk with the kids. They befriended many of the children and staff in their time here. I wish my daughter, Amelia, were here to tell you. She had more interaction with them.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s been down in Porto Alegre the last two weeks, doing fieldwork for her PhD.”

“But she was here when the Warren girls were?” I asked.

“For part of their time with us. Give her a call. She’ll remember them.”

“Do you have her number?” I asked.

“I do,” she said, pulling out her phone. “It’s best to try her in the evenings. She’s been putting in long…” The orphanage director stopped, looked up at us. “If the girls have been ransomed and returned, why are you here?”

We exchanged glances, knowing it was all going to come out soon, if it hadn’t already.

“Because the girls’ real last name isn’t Warren,” Tavia said. “It’s Wise, as in WE, Wise Enterprises.”

Now Lopes seemed completely confused. “Okay?”

“You don’t know the company? WE? Big construction projects?”

She squinted. “I guess.”

“The girls’ father, Andrew Wise, the founder of WE, was grabbed during the ransom exchange. A group called Favela Justice has claimed responsibility and they plan to put him on trial and tape it.”

Lopes pondered that. “You mean like vigilantes?”

“Kind of,” I said. “They’ve accused him of gouging the government during the construction of World Cup and Olympic projects and impoverishing the slum dwellers.”

That annoyed her. “Slum dwellers? Mr. Morgan, they prefer the term favela people. This group…what did you call it?”

“Favela Justice,” Tavia said.

“Well, I don’t know who they are, but I’m inclined to believe their charges.”

“Why?”

“Government contractors overcharging and paying off politicians in Brazil? It’s been a constant story since, I don’t know, the beginning of Brazil.”

I glanced at Tavia, who shrugged, said, “That’s true.”

Lopes fought a yawn.

“We should go, then,” Tavia said. “And you should sleep, Mariana. We appreciate the help.”

“Have I been of any?” she asked, getting up wearily.

“Some,” I said.

“Well, as I said, call Amelia,” Lopes said. “She knows more about the girls than I do.”