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Back The Desert of Glass Save as PDF
Chapters (84)
  1. BY MICHAEL C. GRUMLEY
  2. Prologue
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. 59
  62. 60
  63. 61
  64. 62
  65. 63
  66. 64
  67. 65
  68. 66
  69. 67
  70. 68
  71. 69
  72. 70
  73. 71
  74. 72
  75. 73
  76. 74
  77. 75
  78. 76
  79. 77
  80. 78
  81. EPILOGUE
  82. II
  83. III
  84. IV

“Can I get you anything while you wait?”

She shook her head without a word.

Abo never grew tired of watching the children.  Instead, she remained unmoving and transfixed—fascinated as she watched their slightest actions and motions during the tests.  She studied to see which of them displayed signs of struggle or nervousness, who fidgeted or who tried to glance another’s answers even after being explicitly warned not to.

She especially enjoyed examining them without their knowledge, appreciating the glimpses into their strengths and abilities but thriving at witnessing their weaknesses—the cracks in their intellectual or emotional states. These were the crevices that would eventually let Abo in to see who they really were.

Truly and deeply.  Defenseless.  Pure.

It was now an obsession, getting as far as she could into another person’s psyche and then their souls filled her with a profound sense of divinity.

***

Several hours later, Mido Saad himself answered the phone when Abo called.

“Yes?”

“I should be done by Thursday,” she reported, “and heading back.”

“Wonderful.  I will have everything ready.”

23

23

“You’re calling me during the day,” Omar said, answering his phone.  “Is everything okay?”

“You’re so funny,” Mona answered sarcastically.  “Do you have time to talk, or are you busy being important?”

Omar laughed.  “I have a meeting in about fifteen minutes.”

“This should be quick.  I just need someone to bounce something off of.”

Omar nodded and rotated in his office chair.  “Go ahead.”

“I’m slowly piecing things together, but instead of becoming clearer, it feels as if it’s getting stranger.”

“I had a similar feeling going through those financials.  Have you gotten any more?”

“No, not numbers.  But other things are beginning to feel weird.”

“Like what?”

“I found more on Mido Saad.  Not surprisingly, there’s very little on him.”

“That’s what I said.”

“And I may know who sent those financial records to the army pilot—a man named Ahuja.  But I can’t find anything on him, either.  And what little there is on Saad is decades old.  The last article I found on him was seven years ago.”

“What was it?”

“Another school being built for children.  An academy.  I can’t tell if they’re schools or orphanages, but that was it.  The last article I could find.  Another strange thing is where he’s building the schools.”

“Where?”

“I’ve read everything I can find on him over and over, but only a few mention locations.  One location I had to deduce from a banner in the background of a photo.  But they’re all in strange locations.  Not strange strange, just remote.”

“How remote?”

“All over Africa, in tiny villages far away from everything.”

On the other end, Omar stared forward, listening.  “Isn’t that where people need the most help?”

“Yes and no,” she said.  “Isolation would mean they have fewer resources.  But these are also small buildings.”

“I’m not following.”