“I have a bucket of water for you,” she went on. “You can wash up with that.”
Leila thanked her and followed, eager to get rid of the grime. Not that she would stay clean for very long out here.
After she had washed up, she sat in the tent, combing out her hair with her fingers. The herbs had helped more than she thought they would. Finally feeling a bit more human, she twisted the damp strands into a braid.
Amina stuck her head into the tent entry and waved. “Ready?”
Was she ever. They spent the rest of the morning going around the camp, asking if anyone had any means of communication. Most Bedouin suggested sending a letter—then asked if they would join them for a cup of coffee.
Leila was a bit sorry for refusing the friendly offers, but she would have been bouncing off the palm trees if she accepted all of them.
When she was certain they had asked everyone, Leila leaned against the trunk of a palm tree and drummed her fingers on her upper arm. No phone. She was completely cut off.
“I’m sorry,” Amina said gently at her side. “A letter isn’t such a bad idea. Or you can wait until we get to Saint—”
“Watch out!”
Out of nowhere, a ball flew at Amina’s head. She screamed and ducked. It swooshed past and bounced harmlessly into the bushes behind them.
Leila turned to see a boy running toward them. A teenager, about fourteen, she guessed.
“Almost got you,” he said as he reached them, grinning.
Amina rolled her eyes and adjusted her headscarf. “Not nice, Karim.”
Karim foraged through the bushes and fished the ball out. “Sorry. It’ll never happen again.”
“Somehow I don’t believe you.” Amina glowered.
Karim shrugged and bounced the ball at his side. He stared at Leila and tilted his head. “Who’s your friend?”
“Leila.” Amina swatted at a fly buzzing near her face. “She’s an archaeologist. Abdullah saved her.”
“Whoa, really?” Karim caught the ball with both hands and his mouth dropped open.
Leila gave him a smile and nodded.
“Do you dig at the pyramids? I’ve seen them once. They’re so huge. Have you found a mummy? Or gold?”
“Well,” Leila started, “actually—”
“Karim,” Amina broke in, “we’re trying to find a phone. Leila needs to call home.”
“A phone?” Karim shrugged. “Like a satellite phone? Those are expensive. Good luck finding one in this camp.”
Amina gave Leila an apologetic glance.
“Tahir Awad arrived last night,” Karim added quietly.
“Are you sure?” Amina knitted her eyebrows together and crossed her arms.
“Yup. It’s him all right. They’re camped on the other side of the oasis.”
“Thank you.”
With that, Karim turned and ran off, the padding of his feet slowly fading.
Leila waited until he was out of earshot to ask. “Who’s Tahir Awad?”
“A smuggler.” Amina grimaced. “If anyone has a phone out here, it’s him.”
She slipped into the bushes and Leila followed. They trudged down a path, palm branches swaying overhead in the breeze and shrubs snagging at their clothing as they passed. The path led them into a clearing, winding its way around a murky, brown pond. A group of camels were tied to posts on the far side, chewing their cud and paying them no heed, their chins held high.
They rounded the pond, then waded through the shrubberies on the other side. Amina stopped at the edge of the foliage and studied the cluster of tents. Leila stopped next to her and followed her gaze until it settled on the mud-splattered jeep parked behind the camp. A jeep. An actual jeep.
“Looks like Karim was right,” Amina whispered, running her fingers along the edge of her headscarf, tucking in stray strands of hair. “It’s him. But I’m not going.”
Leila frowned. “Why not?”
“Abdullah says I’m not allowed to speak to him. Ever.”
Leila chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment. If this guy was a smuggler like Amina had said, her brother probably had a good reason for that.
“What does he smuggle?”
“Weapons.”
Leila peered over the top of the bushes. The camp was quiet, a few people milling about. All she had to do was find out if he had a phone, make a call if he did, then get out of there.
