Page 79 of Afraid to Hope

“You are still busy all these years later.”

“I am.”

“What else has passed through here?” Bane prompted him.

“Bronzes, funerary items, a small Malian terra-cotta ram, human skulls and remains, and many other unique items.”

“Human skulls and remains?” Natasha asked, removing her gloves and depositing them in her tote before standing next to Bane.

“Yes. A few times.”

“How did those come to your shop?” she asked.

“They were dropped off by Moroccans and foreigners. Always men.”

“And what happens up to the time they leave?”

“Each item is logged into a ledger with its arrival date. I store the relics in here and wait for a phone call and instructions. Sometimes once a month, sometimes more often. I am given instructions about when someone will pick up what I hold. I wrap the items for transport. I am paid in dirham before the shipment leaves my shop. I note the departure date, paid amount, and transport code in the ledger next to the item.”

Natasha pulled another pouf from the top of a collection of blankets and rugs and sat facing him. “Do you know where any of the items go?”

“No. I was told not to ask, only to keep them safe in the back of the shop until they can be transported and to keep meticulous records.”

“You were never curious?” Bane interjected.

“In the beginning rumors circulated within the community that confirmed I was not the only person storing relics to be shipped. A man in Azrou turned up missing after bragging about selling fine things out of his shop. His body was found months later in the cedar forest, his tongue and hands severed. People whispered that the American had killed him.” Amastan shuddered. “I was not that curious. I have seven children, many grandchildren and great grandchildren, and a wife.”

“So the name ‘the American’ was known?” Natasha asked, leaning forward.

Amastan looked down and bobbed his head, wringing his hands. He raised his eyes, his expression one of fear. “Are you the American?”

“I’m American, but nottheAmerican. We’re looking for someone we can go into business with. My wife has a number of clients who want unique items, one of a kind. Price is no issue. Does that interest you?”

“I have a partner.”

“Maybe you should consider expanding. Let’s take a look at your books, Amastan, see if we want to go into business with you.”

“I have a computer now.”

“Let’s see it.”

“What happened to the ledgers?” Natasha asked.

“They were picked up by different facilitators. A facilitator never came more than once.”

“Interesting,” Bane commented.

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “All of them?”

Amastan’s eyes flickered to the left. “Yes,” he stammered.

“Aw, come on,” Bane growled. “Lying isn’t something you’re good at, Amastan. Where are they?”

“In the cellar.”

“You’re going to produce the ledgers and show us the files. Now.” He pushed off the wall and assisted Natasha to her feet.

Natasha held out her hand. “Give me the shop key, Amastan. The shop will be closed until we leave.”

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