“None of the companies I gave you were orphanages.”

“Nope.  Those were all for construction companies or utilities and a few smaller manufacturing plants.  No orphanages.  But they seem to make a lot of the money the orphanages receive.  On the surface, it looks as if this guy is a true wali, the likes of which I’ve never seen.”

Mona stopped typing on her keyboard.  “So, this huge, ultra-complex system of companies does nothing but serve orphans?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that.  A lot of money goes to them, but I’m sure not all of it does.  Just a lot more than I’ve ever seen from any organization.  At least that’s the impression I’ve gotten after digging for a couple of days.”

“Maybe that’s intentional, too,” Mona suggested.

“Maybe.  But I’ll leave the real digging to you.”

She stared down at her phone pensively.  “That’s certainly more than I was expecting.”

“I would be interested to hear what else you find, especially if you get ahold of any more financials.  Something tells me this is only the tip of the iceberg.”

“And nothing you saw smells fraudulent.”

“Nothing nefarious.  But remember, it was just a small whiff.  If there is something, it would have to be much deeper and harder to find.  Or…”

“Or what?”

“Or the guy is clean.  A legitimate saint.”

Having already typed Saad’s name into her browser, Mona brought up a picture.  “So, he’s either one of the smartest people in the world or one of the most generous.”

Omar laughed.  “More or less.  Good luck in finding out which.”

“Thanks, Omar.  I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

“No problem.  Just call me during the day next time instead of the middle of the night.”

She smiled and ended the call, gently placing her phone down next to her computer.  Then she opened an empty document and spent the next ten minutes typing, capturing as many details as she could from the conversation.

What Omar had found was not only unexpected but just the opposite of what she’d been hoping for.  Part of her wanted both a simple answer and a quick resolution.  She already had too much work on her plate and didn’t have room to take on something new, especially like this.

But she also had to admit there was something undeniably titillating about what Omar had just told her—along with the binder itself—including a handwritten letter of which she was now able to read pieces.  It appeared to be from the person who, decades ago, had sent the old man Abasi Hamed those financial records.

Maybe it was a hunch, or just a wisp of female intuition combined with that innate desire of all good journalists to find the truth.  Her instinct was telling Mona this was just the beginning of something much bigger.