Page 6 of Devlin

“Pull up the map again,” Devlin said to Sadie. He studied the highlighted location of the camp, his jaw tightening. “It’s not the closest camp to the Congo border but the most secure. That’s not just where a lot of the refugees are coming from—it’s also where the Congolese military could be picking up stolen goods. Food. Weapons. Whatever they need.”

Cole let out a low growl. “They’re probably getting both from various sources.”

Devlin nodded, pointing at the diagram of the camp. “Bidi Bidi has one central warehouse for food, but the camp isso massive it’s divided into villages. Each village has its own smaller warehouse.”

“Just one food security officer?” Todd asked.

“Yeah,” Devlin confirmed. “They’d have a staff under them, but if they suspected someone on their own team, they wouldn’t risk reporting it internally. Going to their superior at the WFP was the smart move.”

“You’ll certainly be watched by the security officer for the whole camp,” Logan said as he walked closer.

By the time they’d combed through the files and spent hours in the equipment room with Bert, the team was prepped. This mission wasn’t just about providing security; it was about uncovering a system of theft that affected hundreds of lives. The weight of that responsibility hung heavy but invigorating.

Later that evening, Devlin headed home to pack, his mind already ticking through the mission’s moving parts. Unlike a standard security detail or installation plan, this assignment was investigative, and he felt the familiar itch of anticipation.

Once his bag was packed and his house secured, he stepped outside just as Cole’s SUV pulled into the drive. Todd was already in the front seat, his grin visible through the windshield. Devlin climbed into the back, tossing his bag beside him. The ride to Malmstrom Air Force Base wouldn’t take long, but the camaraderie in the vehicle made it feel like an extension of the mission itself.

Leaning back in his seat, Devlin let his thoughts wander as the Montana landscape blurred past the window. He’d worked missions all over the globe, and while Africa wasn’t new to him, Uganda was. Closing his eyes, he let himself wonder what this mission would hold.

For now, he let the hum of the road lull him into a light rest, knowing full well that tomorrow, everything would change.

4

Mia rose with the first light, the faint glow seeping through the window in her room. She stretched briefly before heading to the staff communal showers, her well-worn flip-flops slapping against the packed dirt. The rhythmic murmurs of the Ugandan refugee camp were already stirring outside in a mix of soft voices, the clatter of makeshift pots, and the distant hum of early morning activity.

Grateful for the luxury of warm water, she adhered strictly to the five-minute limit. Even if it hadn’t been a rule, Mia’s conscience wouldn’t allow indulgence. Water was precious here—a gift many refugees didn’t have. As she briskly worked shampoo through her hair, she tried to recall the last time she’d indulged in a deep conditioning treatment. It felt like a distant memory in a life that seemed worlds away.

After stepping out of the narrow shower stall, she quickly wrapped herself in a plush towel, a gift from her parents. The fabric soaked up the droplets clinging to her skin before she bent to wind it around her hair. A smile curved her lips as she remembered her mother’s insistence on a salon visit during her last trip home—the pure luxury of having her hair cut, treated with salon products, and blown out to a sheen. It had been cut toher shoulders then, but now it hung long, grazing her back. With no salon in sight, she relied on a friend’s steady hands to snip at the fraying ends.

Mia dressed quickly, donning her usual uniform of khaki pants, a white T-shirt, and a long-sleeved khaki shirt left unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up for practicality. The heat of the day would soon become oppressive, but she made an effort to protect her skin. She shoved her toiletries into a mesh bag and slung her wet towel over her arm, then slipped out of the women’s bathroom.

Back in her small room, she hung the towel to dry on a bar hung on the outside of the wardrobe and placed the toiletry bag on the edge of the narrow sink. Catching her reflection in the mirror, she snorted softly. Makeup had become a relic of her past. Sunscreen was her only priority now. She reached for a tub of SPF moisturizer, spreading it over her face and neck with practiced efficiency before swiping on a layer of sun-protecting lip balm. The routine was efficient… she spent little time getting ready for a job that required long hours, hot conditions, and no one to impress other than the food she could deliver.

She sat on the edge of her cot to tug on socks and lace up her boots. A glance at the clock made her grin. Fifteen minutes flat from start to finish. “Always date-ready,” she muttered to herself, a hint of sarcasm in her tone. Not that dating was on her agenda. The very thought drew a derisive chuckle, though a faint ache nestled in her chest.

It had been a long time since she'd wanted more than a quick horizontal dance between the sheets with anyone. And, in truth, that was fine with her. Or at least that was what she told herself whenever these unbidden thoughts popped up. Her line of work wasn’t conducive to romance. Long hours, relentless travel, and the emotional toll of her duties left little room for love. She wasn’t opposed to the idea, not in theory, but experience hadtaught her that love could be more painful than solitude. She hadn’t looked for love in years and had no plans to break her streak. It was safer to keep her distance.

Locking her door, Mia stepped out into the already warming air. The ground was dry and dusty, the sun’s rays beginning to heat the day. She approached the large, military-style tent that served as the staff’s dining area. It wasn’t located in a permanent building in case they needed to move it as the camp became more crowded and the needs changed.

Along the way, she greeted others with a smile and a nod, exchanging brief pleasantries as the camp came alive around her.

Inside the dining tent, the shade offered some respite. She grabbed a metal tray at the end of the line and filled it with her usual breakfast— a small bowl of oatmeal dusted with cinnamon, a slice of toast adorned with a modest smear of passion fruit jam, and a scrambled egg. At the end of the line, a steaming cup of coffee waited. Mia paused, inhaling the rich aroma and letting it ground her in the moment. For a few precious seconds, she savored it, allowing her mind to simply ease.

She was about to sit at the table holding some of her staff when she saw Charlie’s hand gesture for her to sit with some of the other officers. They had a staff meeting after breakfast, but if Dr. Horace München had the heads of each department sit together at breakfast, she knew he must have additional news to impart. He liked to keep meetings quick and efficient, so he’d occasionally use breakfast as a way for them to start the day together while conveying some new business. She slid into an empty seat beside Charlie and smiled at the others around the table.

Along with the head of the camp was Ritah Nakawunde, the protection officer. Dr. Elaine Harker, the medical coordinator,sat beside Ravi Kumar, the WASH coordinator. The logistics and supply chain officer, Robert Ellyson, sat beside Percy Wilson, the education program coordinator, on the other side of the table. Elizabeth and Mark Carter, the economics recovery officers, were at the end, along with Moses Kamoga, the camp security officer. Charlie was the information reporting officer.

She sometimes found refugee camp titles confusing, but she'd easily adapted after eight years of working with them. Robert winked at her before glancing to the side to see what Elaine was discussing with Dr. München.

Mia turned her attention to breakfast, hoping the rock in her stomach would allow her to eat. Ever since she'd emailed Margarethe, she couldn't help but watch everyone around her. The stealing of food she’d discovered wasn’t random or uncoordinated. She was sure it wasn't kids breaking in or an adult deciding one night they would see what they could get. She felt sure someone was coordinating a large enough theft that numerous people and at least one truck would be needed.

“How can you eat jam?” Charlie asked, sitting across from her with a grimace. “Vegemite is the only thing that should go on bread!”

“Only a true Aussie would say that.” Percy shook his head. He turned to Mia. “Eat up, my dear. A delicious jam on toast is the perfect way to start the day here.”

Charlie wadded his napkin and tossed it at Percy. Mia rolled her eyes at their antics, glad for the diversion.

Dr. München allowed them to eat breakfast, keeping the conversation general before saying, "We have some visitors coming in."

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