"Was Captain McKenzie here in Loki when Tessa and Arnold came up for the workshop?"
"Captain McKenzie was here. And he saw a lot more of Tessa than I did, dear, by a long chalk." She broke off for a while and sat smiling at the stars, and it seemed to Ghita that she was trying to reach a decision in her mind — such as whether to speak out or keep her secrets to herself, questions that Ghita had been asking herself these last three weeks.
"Now, dear," Sarah went on finally. "I've been listening to you. And I've been watching you and thinking about you and worrying about you. And I came to the conclusion that you're a girl with a brain in your head, and you're also a good, decent human being with a well-developed sense of responsibility, which I value. But if you're not that person and I have misread you, between us we could get Captain McKenzie into a whole heap of trouble. This is dangerous knowledge I'm about to acquaint you withand there's no way, once you have it, to get it back in the bottle. So I suggest you tell me now whether I am overjudging you or whether I have read you accurately. Because people who talk out of turn, they never reform. That's something else I've learned. They can swear on the Bible one day and the next day they're at it just like before, talking out of turn again. The Bible didn't make a whit of difference to them."
"I understand," said Ghita.
"Now are you going to advise me that I have misinterpreted what I have seen and heard and thought of you? Or shall I tell you what I have in my mind and you bear that heavy burden of responsibility for ever after?"
"I'd like you to trust me, please."
"That's what I thought you'd say, so listen to me. I'll say it quietly, so bring your ear a little closer to me." Sudan Sarah gave a tug to the brim of her hat so that Ghita could get alongside her. "There. And maybe the geckos will favor us with some loud burping, I hope. Tessa never came to that workshop, nor Arnold neither. As soon as they were able, Tessa and Arnold got into the back of my friend Captain McKenzie's jeep and drove quietly and sedately out to the airstrip with their heads down. And Captain McKenzie, as soon as he was able, he put them in his Buffalo aeroplane and flew them up north without benefit of passports or visas or any of the normal formalities imposed by South Sudanese rebels who can't stop fighting one another and haven't got the spirit or intelligence to unite themselves against those bad Arabs in the north who seem to think Allah forgives everything even if his Prophet doesn't."
Ghita thought Sarah had finished and was about to speak, but she had only begun.
"A further complication is that Mr. Moi, who couldn't manage a flea circus with the assistance of his entire Cabinet, even if there was money in it for him, has taken it into his head that he's got to have the managing of Loki airstrip, as you will have noticed. Mr. Moi has a very limited affection for NGO'S but a great appetite for airport taxes. And Dr. Arnold was very particular that Mr. Moi and his people did not take cognizance of their journey to wherever they wished to go."
"So where did they go?" Ghita whispered, but Sarah rolled straight on.
"Now I never asked where that place was, because what I don't know I can't end up saying in my sleep. Not that there's anyone to hear me these days, I'm too old. But Captain McKenzie knows, that stands to reason. Captain McKenzie brought them back early next day from wherever he took them to, discreetly, the way he took them out the day before. And Dr. Arnold, he says to me, "Sarah," he says, "we never went anywhere except here to Loki. We were attending your gender workshop twenty-four hours a day. Tessa and I are grateful to you for continuing to remember that important fact." But Tessa's dead now, and she's not likely to be grateful to Sudan Sarah or anybody else anymore. And Dr. Arnold, if I know anything, he's worse than dead. Because that Moi has his people everywhere, and they kill and steal to their hearts' content, and that means a lot of killing. And when they take a man prisoner with the intention of extracting certain truths from him, they abandon all compassion, and that's a fact you'd do well to remember on your own account, my darling, because you are treading in very deep waters. Which is why I've decided it is essential that you get into conversation with Captain McKenzie, who knows things I'd rather not. Because Justin, who's a good man from all that I hear, he needs to have all the information that's available on the subject of his dead wife and Dr. Arnold. Now is that the right way for me to be thinking, or is there a better way?"
"It's the right way," Ghita said.
Sarah drained her tea and set down the cup. "Very well then. So you go and eat and get your strength up and I'll stay here for a little while, dear, because this place is talk, talk, talk, as you will already have appreciated. And don't touch the goat curry, darling, however much you like goat. Because that young Somali chef, who is a gifted boy and will one day become a fine lawyer, has a blind spot where goat curry is concerned."
* * *
Ghita never knew how she got through the first day of the focus group on Self-Sustainment, but by the time the bell sounded for five o'clock — though the bell was only in her head — she had the satisfaction of knowing that she had not made a fool of herself, had spoken neither too much nor too little, had listened with humility to the opinions of older and more knowledgeable participants, and had taken copious notes for yet another unread EADEC report.
"Glad you came?" Judith asked her, cheerfully grabbing her arm as the meeting broke up. "See you down the club, then."
"This is for you, darling," said Sarah, emerging from a staff hut to hand her a brown envelope. "Enjoy your evening."
"You too."
Sarah's handwriting came straight out of a school copybook.
Ghita dear. Captain McKenzie occupies Entebbe tukul, which is number fourteen on the airstrip side. Take a hand torch with you for when the generators are switched off. He will be happy to receive you at nine o'clock after your dinner. He is a gentleman so you need have no fear. Please give him this note so that I can be sure it has been sensibly disposed of. Take very good care of yourself now and remember your responsibilities as regards discretion. Sarah
* * *
The names of the tukuls read to Ghita like regimental battle honors in the village church close to her convent school in England. The front door to Entebbe was ajar, but the mosquito door inside it was wedged tight. A blue-shaded hurricane lamp burned and Captain McKenzie sat in front of it, so that as Ghita approached the tukul she saw only his silhouette, bowed over his desk while he wrote like a monk. And because first impressions counted greatly with her, she stood a moment observing his craggy look and extreme stillness, anticipating an unbending military nature. She was about to tap on the door frame but Captain McKenzie had either heard or seen her or guessed her, because he sprang to his feet and made two athletic strides to the mosquito door and pulled it back for her.
"Ghita, I'm Rick McKenzie. You're bang on time. Got a note for me?"
New Zealand, she thought, and knew she'd got it right. Sometimes she forgot her knowledge of English names and accents, but this was not one of the times. New Zealand and on closer inspection nearer to fifty than thirty, but she could only guess this from the hairline cracks on the gaunt cheeks and the silver tips to the trim black hair. She handed him Sarah's note and watched while he turned his back on her and held the note to the blue lamp. By the brighter glow she saw a sparse, clean room with an ironing board and polished brown shoes and a soldier's bed made the way she was taught to make her bed at convent school, with hospital corners and the sheet folded over the blanket at the top, then folded back on itself to make an equilateral triangle.