facility would be staffed by African women and that the language barrier would be hard to overcome.
The woman stirred something deep in his trousers and a long suppressed memory raged to life within him. He pushed the memories back where they belonged. The resemblance was striking but not completely accurate. He’d been celibate too long and his mind was playing tricks on him.
Her hair was the color of golden thread, her body slim, and her eyes the shade of a meadow in spring. But she was too young, impossibly too young. He forced a smile to his lips in greeting.
“Can I help you, sir?” The melody of her voice brought his eyes from her unnaturally plump lips and to her curious eyes. Their color was close to the one he thought of, but the shape was all wrong. This girl’s eyes were almond shaped, while hers had been round. And so innocent.
“I believe you can, Miss. I’m looking for a man by the name of Greg Flynn. Do you know where I can find him?”
Her stance turned from open and welcoming to guarded and hooded, with the blink of an eye. “I’m sorry. He passed away over a year ago.” She crossed her arms in front of her, flattening her breasts under her shirt.
“Is there a director I can speak with about Mr. Flynn? It’s very important. I’m traveling back to Entebbe tonight to catch a flight to the States,” Darius said, waiting for any look of understanding to cross her face. Her speech pattern was Californian, and he was sure she knew more than she was saying.
“That’s me, Dr. Sandy Adams.” She recovered and smiled.
Not Lauren.
“I’m Agent Lucas of the CIA.” At her acknowledging nod, Darius continued. “It’s come to the attention of the US government that Mr. Flynn didn’t pass away, as you say, but is very much alive. Any information you can pass on will only help with my task.” The mention of the US government should shake the truth out of her. The thought of discontinued financial aid from the United States, for her clinic, would certainly mean doom.
Darius had pegged her right. A smile spread across her face. “Of course Agent Lucas, I’ll give you what information I have.”
Smart girl!
She scurried over to a cabinet against the back wall, and returned with a file that appeared empty. “Dr. Flynn was only here a few weeks before he fell ill and was transported to a larger hospital by the international airport in Entebbe as the file will confirm.” She flipped through the few papers in the file. “While he was here he attended his duties with efficiency and adequate bedside manner. I’m sorry you wasted your time coming all the way here.”
“Thank you, Dr. Adams.” His eyes traveled the length of her hospital scrubs, longing for more of a likeness. Get your head back in the game. The one I seek is safe, back in Modesto.
She pushed the file in Darius’s direction and turned toward a door marked Eddwaaliro. With file in hand, he followed her to the door and slipped through behind her, before it shut. She must’ve sensed his presence because she whipped around, her golden hair brushed across his face. He hadn’t realized he followed so close. The smell of vanilla filled the space between them.
“Can I help you with something else?” Her voice dripped with a new hostility.
“You don’t mind if I have a look around, do you? Maybe speak to some of the staff who worked alongside Dr. Flynn. They may be able to give me a little insight into his intentions.”
“Intentions, Agent? Dr. Flynn died from malaria. I don’t think anyone can tell you more than I already have.”
“All the same, I’d be remiss not to further investigate the matter.” Darius walked further into the busy clinic. Half-dressed women and children lay on examination tables or sat in chairs around the large room.
Staff members hurried around the room, taking temperatures, handing out food supplement packages and preparing examination tables for new patients. Several white men, who met the
The woman stirred something deep in his trousers and a long suppressed memory raged to life within him. He pushed the memories back where they belonged. The resemblance was striking but not completely accurate. He’d been celibate too long and his mind was playing tricks on him.
Her hair was the color of golden thread, her body slim, and her eyes the shade of a meadow in spring. But she was too young, impossibly too young. He forced a smile to his lips in greeting.
“Can I help you, sir?” The melody of her voice brought his eyes from her unnaturally plump lips and to her curious eyes. Their color was close to the one he thought of, but the shape was all wrong. This girl’s eyes were almond shaped, while hers had been round. And so innocent.
“I believe you can, Miss. I’m looking for a man by the name of Greg Flynn. Do you know where I can find him?”
Her stance turned from open and welcoming to guarded and hooded, with the blink of an eye. “I’m sorry. He passed away over a year ago.” She crossed her arms in front of her, flattening her breasts under her shirt.
“Is there a director I can speak with about Mr. Flynn? It’s very important. I’m traveling back to Entebbe tonight to catch a flight to the States,” Darius said, waiting for any look of understanding to cross her face. Her speech pattern was Californian, and he was sure she knew more than she was saying.
“That’s me, Dr. Sandy Adams.” She recovered and smiled.
Not Lauren.
“I’m Agent Lucas of the CIA.” At her acknowledging nod, Darius continued. “It’s come to the attention of the US government that Mr. Flynn didn’t pass away, as you say, but is very much alive. Any information you can pass on will only help with my task.” The mention of the US government should shake the truth out of her. The thought of discontinued financial aid from the United States, for her clinic, would certainly mean doom.
Darius had pegged her right. A smile spread across her face. “Of course Agent Lucas, I’ll give you what information I have.”
Smart girl!
She scurried over to a cabinet against the back wall, and returned with a file that appeared empty. “Dr. Flynn was only here a few weeks before he fell ill and was transported to a larger hospital by the international airport in Entebbe as the file will confirm.” She flipped through the few papers in the file. “While he was here he attended his duties with efficiency and adequate bedside manner. I’m sorry you wasted your time coming all the way here.”
“Thank you, Dr. Adams.” His eyes traveled the length of her hospital scrubs, longing for more of a likeness. Get your head back in the game. The one I seek is safe, back in Modesto.
She pushed the file in Darius’s direction and turned toward a door marked Eddwaaliro. With file in hand, he followed her to the door and slipped through behind her, before it shut. She must’ve sensed his presence because she whipped around, her golden hair brushed across his face. He hadn’t realized he followed so close. The smell of vanilla filled the space between them.
“Can I help you with something else?” Her voice dripped with a new hostility.
“You don’t mind if I have a look around, do you? Maybe speak to some of the staff who worked alongside Dr. Flynn. They may be able to give me a little insight into his intentions.”
“Intentions, Agent? Dr. Flynn died from malaria. I don’t think anyone can tell you more than I already have.”
“All the same, I’d be remiss not to further investigate the matter.” Darius walked further into the busy clinic. Half-dressed women and children lay on examination tables or sat in chairs around the large room.
Staff members hurried around the room, taking temperatures, handing out food supplement packages and preparing examination tables for new patients. Several white men, who met the
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