One of the other guys agreed. He swept his hand around, indicating the camp. “All of us here, we’re here because we don’t have money. That’s why we’re in this place.”

“Did you speak with them, while they were here?”

“Not a word. They kept to themselves. Not a single hello or nothing.” He shook his head.

Nazari asked, “Who took them?”

The three guys went silent and shrugged in unison, like a choreographed movement. The big guy in the middle spoke finally. “They were gone when we woke up. People who leave here, usually do so before dawn, if you know what I mean.”

I nodded. “Yeah I can understand that. Early wake up, even on cruise ships.”

“Why are you interested in those lucky tourists?”

“I wanted to talk with them, ask them some questions.”

“You can ask us questions if you like. We’re in no rush, we’ve got all day.” He smiled.

The other guys smiled too. “No rush at all. Ask away.”

I said, “I’d love to stay and chat, friends, but I need some specific information that only those men would be able to give me. It’s not about this place, it’s about something else.”

The big guy shrugged. “Just trying to help.”

“I appreciate that. Thanks, and have a great day.”

“We’ll do our best.”

We walked back to the trail. The red cord was bright against the green and brown forest colors. I heard the sound of snapping twigs behind me, so I turned. The big guy was approaching. He was taller than I had thought. He said, “One thing though, if you want my impression. There was something that stuck out about those guys, more than anything else.”

Nazari spoke first. “What’s that?”

“They were dusty.”

“How do you mean dusty?”

The big guy stepped onto the sand and gravel trail and squatted down. He pointed to the ground. “See that? It hasn’t rained for a few days, so you can still see the dust they had on them.”

I recalled the migrants emerging from the back of the Mercedes Sprinter van, brushing off dust from their clothing and footwear. The big guy was pointing to a layer of fine, light-colored dust that remained on the surface of the trail. The Les Brosses guys must have swept out the van before departing, because there was still quite a lot of it. I figured we were very lucky, because even a small amount of wind would have dispersed the stuff.

I joined the guy and scooped some of it into my hand. It was soft and powdery. I said, “What do you think it is?”

He bobbed his head. “I worked in a quarry back home when I was a kid and we got that stuff all over us. Stone dust.” He circled the dust against his fingertips.