Page 9 of Legacy's Call

Earl ran his hand through his thinning hair and shook his head. “Nothing. We followed the checklist to the letter, just like the other times.”

Fleur nodded, knowing what he said was the truth. “Earl, we need to go off books for the next convoy. Someone is leaking information, or maybe someone is selling it? God, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we have a murderer somewhere in the system.”

Earl had been bending down to pick up the box containing Deb’s possessions when he stopped and looked up at her. “What?”

Her lips tightened as she looked past him. “Are we alone?”

“Yeah.” Earl stood up.

“Somehow, information is getting out about our routes or when we’re moving the people.” She put her hands on her hips. “It isn’t us.” She stared at Earl when he just looked at her and repeated. “It isn’t us.”

“No, it isn’t, but you’re pointing a finger without proof. That will ruffle one hell of a lot of feathers.” Earl looked behind him then whispered, “It could get us in a lot of trouble. You know how strict they are about making every notification. If we don’t andsomething happens? They’ll blame us. They have enough egg on their face that they’ll deflect it in a heartbeat. Especially the governmental agencies. They’re firing people right and left and sending them home because of this without any proof they did anything wrong. We'd be the sacrificial lamb if they could pin anything on us. Period. End of story.”

Fleur drew a deep breath and nodded. “Which is why I’m doing it alone. You aren’t going to be involved.”

“Fleur, you can’t move an entire convoy without supplies, gas, and guards.” Earl picked up the box. “Don’t throw away your career or even your life. We’re drawing down. More militia is coming in to help us, or at least that’s what they're saying.”

“More militia? Maybethe new oneswon’t fall asleep and let those damn people take whomever they want,” Fleur spat out.

Earl sighed. “What else can we do?”

She looked at him, shaking her head. “Nothing. I’m just so sick and tired of trying to make a difference and the ineptitude of the machine snagging, stalling, and even destroying our hopes of getting these kids to any semblance of safety.”

“We all feel it, Fleur. We all feel it.” He looked at the box. “I’ll get this over to the logistics tent. Youcan’t get a convoy out by yourself, sweetie. It’s impossible.”

She nodded and turned back to the plastic window. They all felt the frustration, but no one was doing a damn thing about it. She couldn’t send out another convoy doing the same planning and coordination as the others and expect different results. That was the definition of insanity, wasn’t it? Snorting, she shook her head. “Maybe we’re all insane for trying to help when their own government doesn’t care about them.”

Her words fell unheard in the empty tent. She closed her eyes. Therehadto be something she could do. But Earl was right. She couldn’t move an entire convoy by herself. That took a staff. But … She opened her eyes and gasped. No, she couldn’t move anentireconvoy … but what about a few people at a time? Maybe … just maybe … She almost ran out of the tent in search of one of the Syrian women helping register the unaccompanied children.

Fleur found Rana at the admin tent and caught the woman’s eye, waving her outside. Rana slipped out of the tent, and Fleur put her arm through Rana’s. “Let’s take a walk.”

Rana glanced at her and laughed. “Why, what is it that you are doing?”

Fleur lowered her voice. “I want to talk to you about something. Something private. Walk with me?”

Rana’s brow creased in confusion. “All right.” They strolled away from the interior of the camp.

Fleur looked around. “You came from Aleppo, right?” The town wasn’t far from where they were near Idlib.

Rana nodded. “Yes. Why?”

They walked a few feet farther before Fleur stopped and stared through the encampment. “How hard would it be to take five or perhaps ten children through the smuggler’s tunnels without being seen?”

Rana shook her head. “I don’t know the tunnels that well. My husband worked in them to get people out of the country. I didn’t.”

“But you know someone who does know them, right?” Rana was a well-educated woman who’d lost her husband in the fighting.

“Fleur, you don’t understand. Those tunnels are now used to traffic people, not to rescue them.”

“Yes, but if we move the children through the tunnels, it could work, right? We could get them out through our counterparts in Turkey. You’ve told me about how your husband had gotten supplies into Syria without the militia or warring factionsknowing about it.” It was a chance. A chance to get some of the internally displaced people out of the country and into the hands of NGOs with the resources to relocate them to safety.

“Women moving children?” Rana shook her head. “No, the men in those tunnels would kill youafterthey raped you, or if you were unfortunate, they’d rape you and then sell you to others who would use you until you were dead.” The woman spat out the words and crossed her arms; her anger, perhaps her fear, was palpable. “It is impossible. To even think such a thing is ridiculous.”

Fleur closed her eyes and shook her head. “I have to do something, Rana. Seven convoys. All those people, our friends. Someone has to do something to get these kids and women out of here.”

Rana stepped closer to her. “I understand what you feel. I know what it feels like to be hopeless.” She glanced right and then left. “I … could … No, it is probably impossible.”

“What?” Fleur grabbed Rana’s hand. “What were you going to say?” Rana pinched her lips shut and stared at her. “Please,” Fleur pleaded.

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