Even though she had attended several events with her father as the senator, the scaled-up version that came with the title of vice president surprised Cynthia. Her father was the focus of attention, the highlight of the evening, and everyone wanted to speak with him or be seen speaking with him. Private paid photographers wandered around snapping pictures while news reporters in a cordoned-off area filmed the event from afar.

Early in the evening, President Akinjide had introduced his daughter Zalika to Cynthia. Zalika was tall and thin and wore a turquoise-and-orange sheath with patterns that reminded Cynthia of peacock feathers. The colors provided a striking contrast against her dark skin.

“Zalika just returned to us from Cambridge,” President Akinjide said in English. “She is a doctor like you.”

Cynthia smiled. “It’s nice to meet you. What kind of medicine do you practice?”

“I have a degree in infectious diseases,” Zalika said. “I hope to help the people of my country.” She and Cynthia stepped into a quieter corner. “I understand you have been here for several months.”

“I have. In a village about a hundred kilometers from here. I had an obstetrics clinic, but we also treated general medicine needs.” Cynthia stopped a passing waiter. “Do you have sparkling water?”

He nodded and left them.

“I would love to talk to you some more and learn of the medical needs you saw away from the city.” Zalika sighed. “Of course, the needs of this city could consume all of my time and energy and I’d never make a dent.”

Cynthia thought of the conversation she’d had with her father. “I’m afraid I won’t be here much longer. My father’s new position makes it impossible for me to remain.”

“I understand. Our country is in a very tenuous place right now.”

“I’m happy to correspond with you, though. I’ve been here for five months and treated people from several villages.”

Zalika smiled warmly. “We will have to make sure that our information is exchanged.”

The waiter returned with a silver tray bearing a single glass of sparkling water with a slice of lime on the rim. She smiled and thanked him. As she reached for the glass, she noticed what looked like blood on the cuff of his white shirt. With a frown, she nonchalantly tried to look closer and thought she saw the edge of a burn mark on his wrist. When she looked back at his face, he still had a pleasant expression.

“Merci,” Cynthia whispered, taking the glass from the tray. He nodded and turned away. She turned back to her new friend. “Zalika? Who hires the staff for your father’s events?”

Zalika looked around. “He has a security officer who is in charge of that. Everyone is carefully screened.”