“When’s the last time you took a day off?”
Gabby looked up from her mug of hot chocolate to her editor Ty Guillory’s heavyset stature and shrugged off the question. “Thanks for coming.”
Guillory slid onto the empty red booth across from her, and for a moment neither of them spoke. A group of late-night patrons laughed over something on the other side of the café, but besides them, the elevator music playing in the background, and the sound of rain turning the early evening snow into a messy slush, the place was quiet.
“My flight from LA was delayed, or I would have been here sooner.” Guillory took off his wool scarf and leaned back against the padded back of the booth. “Are you okay?”
Gabby touched the thin lesion running across her hairline. “That and a slightly sprained wrist, but I’ll be fine.”
“Then tell me what’s going on?”
“Two things. Alexis Yasin and the Republic of Dhambizao.” Gabby smacked a red folder onto the table between them.
Guillory eyed the folder but didn’t pick it up. “First you need to know I’m considering pulling the second article in your series. I won’t have you killed over this.”
“You’ve got to trust me, Ty. You can’t pull it.” Gabby zipped up the top of her fleece jacket, trying to shake the late-night chill. “I’ve just spent the past ten hours calling in every favor I could finagle, and I’m in the process of uncovering a story far bigger than profits taken from mines and the exploitation of workers.”
Guillory rubbed the back of his neck. “You’ve got your father’s passion, and you’re also just as stubborn.”
She matched his hard stare. “I consider that a compliment.”
He dropped his gaze. “Then tell me, what’s the connection between a philanthropist and some third-world country nobody’s ever heard of?”
“Millions of dollars a year in natural resources gained through illegal slave labor camps, for one.”
His head snapped up. She had his attention now.
She slapped open the folder to the photos Natalie had sent her. “I was finally able to get ahold of someone in the RD who knew about these photos. They believe that this village was raided by a group of rogue mercenaries called Ghost Soldiers. I also found out that Natalie’s been kidnapped in regards to the photos.”
“Kidnapped?” Guillory waved off the waitress’ offer for coffee. “I don’t like any of this, Gabby. In the past forty-eight hours you’ve been carjacked, shot at, and threatened, and now you’re talking about powerful men involved in an illegal slave trade? Your mother’s not going to forgive me if you end up in a body bag like your father—”
“The story of those villagers deserves to be heard. And if that doesn’t hit close enough to home, I can give you more.”
“Like?”
“They took the man who tried to shoot me into custody today. His name’s Kahil Naser, and it turns out the man’s wanted in several countries. Without a deal, Naser knows he’s potentially facing extradition, and in some of these countries that means the death sentence.”
“What does he have to offer?”
“Alexis Yasin’s head on a plate. There was a hole in my data on Yasin from 1992 until 1993. Turns out, according to Naser, he was busy training in a terrorist training camp in northern Africa at the time.” She paused for a moment to let what she’d said sink in. “Naser admitted that Yasin is involved in rigging the RD’s presidential elections tomorrow. And trust me, no one needs a man like Yasin running a third-world country, even if it is behind the scenes.”
“So you’re implying that Yasin’s trying to manipulate control of the RD for an even bigger piece of the profits?”
“Imagine the sizeable amounts of funding plus a protected base for his illegal dealings, and you’ve got a grasp on what he’s planning to do.”
Ty’s expression hardened. “If you can give me credible evidence that this is true, I’ll consider running the article, but realize that you’ll be putting yourself and the paper at risk. More than likely Naser’s just a pawn in Yasin’s hand, which means he’s got a dozen more to replace him.”
“So we let fear stop us?”
“Never. I just want you alive to report the next big story.” Guillory scuffed his foot against the floor and slid out of the booth to leave. “And find a way to get some rest. You’ll be worthless if you don’t.”
She nodded, then gulped down the rest of her drink. He was right. Somehow, she had to find a way to save boys like Samuel—and her own life at the same time.