Page 6 of Aleko
“Dude, are you still pouting?”
Alex let out a frustrated growl.
“We’ll find them,” said Sebastian reassuringly.
“We shouldn’t have to find them. We should have had them last night. And we would have if I hadn’t…” He trailed off, uncertain of how to describe what had happened. “Gotten distracted,” he finished lamely.
Sebastian took a deep breath as if he was going to say something, then stopped. “Things got weird. And those fucking Russians didn’t help anything. Shit happens. We’ll regroup.”
Alex grunted and rubbed his head. “The police thing is a problem,” he said. “We’re set at city hall, but the pandemic has taken out half our contacts on the force.”
It was Sebastian’s turn to give a non-verbal response before forming an actual sentence. “Well, when you’re looking at a fifty percent higher infection rate than the rest of the population, suddenly police work doesn’t sound so good. We’ll rebuild. It’s going to take a bit of time.”
Alex didn’t respond, choosing instead to put the gas pedal down and leave some of his angst behind with speed. Sebastian just grinned and rolled down his window, leaning into the wind.
It wasn’t until he turned onto the port road that Alex realized he wouldn’t be going directly to the warehouse. He pulled up in front of the olive tree and looked toward the refugee encampment out in the field. He’d seen her here, talking to some of the refugees. They would know where to find her.
“What are you doing?” asked Sebastian as he got out of the car.
“The girl works here sometimes. Those people will know abouther,” said Alex. He checked the tree. There was a cardboard sign leaning against the backside of the tree, away from the road. It had translatorwritten in five different languages in neatly printed black sharpie. He could smell her on it. He put it back where he found it and set out into the field.
“This is a bad idea,” warned Sebastian, hurrying after him.
Alex hesitated on the edge of the encampment. As expected, it was filthy and stank of humanity. He couldn’t see which direction to go. He just wanted to talk to a person. One of them would know her. He took a step forward and then froze as a child ran by, and he caught a scent on the breeze. She was wearing an oversized blue cardigan sweater, and Alex wanted to rip it off the child. It smelled of his… girl. The child caught sight of him and ran faster.
“Alex,” said Sebastian warningly, but Alex ignored him.
He followed the child to a blue tent, where a woman in a black hijab was washing clothes in a bucket. The woman looked up as the child hid behind her.
“Who are you?” she called in Arabic. “What do you want?”
He stopped, trying to pick a distance that wasn’t threatening. He could sense eyes on them from the tents.
“There is a girl,” he said, using Arabic as well, “she sits under the olive tree. She has blonde hair.”
The little girl made a squeak of fear.
“No,” said the woman. “I don’t know who that is.”
“The little girl is wearing her sweater,” said Alex.
The woman went pale.
“Tell me where to find her. I will pay you.”
“I don’t know her,” said the woman. “You need to leave now.”
“I own that warehouse,” said Alex, pointing at his building. “I have money. I will pay for the information.”
“She said you need to leave,” said a man stepping out of a nearby tent. His hair was overgrown, and he needed a shave, butmostly he reeked of heroin.
“You need money,” said Alex, switching his attention. “You will tell me where she is, and I will pay you enough to get high for a week.”
The woman drew a sharp breath, clearly shocked. The man didn’t look angry. Instead, he walked forward and flipped a tarp off a table, revealing a cutting board and cleaver.
“Your money is shit,” he said. “Leave now.”
“Alex,” growled Sebastian.
