Page 33 of Devlin

Devlin felt the weight of Alain’s words pressing on his shoulders.

“So the trucks from our warehouses can drive straight into the Congo?” Mia’s voice rose slightly, edged with frustration. Devlin instinctively placed a hand on her shoulder, a calming touch. She turned to him briefly, and instead of bristling, he felt the tension in her muscles ease under his fingertips. She nodded and turned back to Alain.

“What I learned," Alain continued, "is what I saw when we crossed Lake Edward. The lake is vast and impossible to guard completely. It divides Uganda from the Congo, and once food makes it onto a boat, there’s virtually no stopping it before it reaches its destination.”

Todd crossed his arms. “We know Congo has the Allied Democratic Forces and the M23 rebels, but do you have any idea who might be stealing from this camp?”

Alain shook his head. “If I knew, I would have gone straight to Dr. München. But my best guess? The M23 rebels. They control most of the smuggling routes in eastern Congo. If food is being stolen from this camp, they’re likely involved, or at least the ones at the end of the line.”

Devlin watched as Alain sagged slightly, exhaustion evident in every line of his face. Before he could speak, Mia stepped forward again, both hands clasping Alain’s.

“Alain, you must know that for all you do—for the refugees, for your wife and children—you are a good man.”

A tremulous smile broke across Alain’s face, and Devlin saw the way he straightened his shoulders as if those simple words had lifted an invisible weight from him. “Bless you, Miss Mia.”

Alain turned to Devlin. “If you have more questions, I will try to answer them. But I believe I have given you all I know.”

Before Devlin could ask anything else, Alain added, “Before I go back to the clinic, I will say this. Small-scale theft happens everywhere—desperation drives some, greed drives others. Butif this is bigger, if the theft is more than a few stolen sacks, it’s organized. And it goes much higher up.”

He winced as if the admission pained him, then bowed his head. “Good luck,” he murmured before turning and walking away, leaving the three Keepers and Mia standing in silence, watching him go.

14

Mia looked up, exhaustion pressing down on her like a heavy weight. Alain’s explanation of the black market and smuggling drained her with every bleak word. She had offered him comfort, but she realized her energy was waning as she stood there.

Her gaze flickered toward Devlin, only to find him already watching her, his expression conveying his understanding of her mood. Their connection had been forged in something deeper than time, and even after years apart, it remained.

She shook her head slowly, pulling herself back to the present and turning to Todd and Cole. “This camp is too big to monitor. It’s over two hundred square kilometers. I don’t even know why I thought we could uncover this ourselves.”

“We’ve got our people working on it from their end,” Devlin said.

She squinted up at him, her nose wrinkling. “I don’t even know what that means."

Cole chuckled. “It just means that sometimes a person sitting behind a computer, poring through information and intel, can see patterns we can’t see on the ground.”

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, hating how lost she felt in the intricacies of their world. Devlin, of course, seemed to sense it.

“We have access to all kinds of information," he explained. "And if we don’t, we have contacts who can get it for us. Since the WFP has asked for our help, our people back home can tap into bank records and follow the money trail.”

Understanding dawned in her eyes, widening them slightly. It struck her then how different their work was, almost like something out of a movie—the kind that left ordinary people in awe of what was possible while secretly wondering if such things happened in real life. Except now, she was living in it.

“What do you know about the security here?” Devlin asked.

Mia folded her arms. “Moses has a massive security team. Some are UN hires, but many are just refugees given jobs to help keep the peace.”

“In most places, flashing a little money can make someone look the other way,” Todd said.

Mia nodded slowly. “I know you think I’m naive, but I’ve worked in enough camps to know we deal with the same problems every society does. So yes, I can easily see a guard taking a payoff to let an entire truck filled with food drive away.”

“But someone would have to organize it," Devlin reminded her. "Sure, a truck driver could slip a guard some cash to get through a checkpoint, but that’s opportunistic. What’s happening here is systematic.”

She hesitated. “Do you think Moses is involved?”

Devlin exhaled. “I don’t know. You know him best.”

Mia recalled her conversations with Moses, then slowly shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve always liked talking with him. That makes it hard to imagine he’d do something like this.” Her mind slipped into darker places, ones she had fought to leave behind. “But then… how well do we really know anyone?”

The moment the words left her lips, she saw the pain flash across Devlin’s face. Her heart twisted, hating that she’d hurt him. There was a time when she would have done so without hesitation, but that time was fading away. Faced with food stolen that was intended for those who needed it the most, the pain from Devlin seemed like it had existed in another lifetime.

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