Shanti did her business while the three of them kept watch.
“There’s our buddy.” Cruz gave a nod toward the guy in the maroon shirt, who stood about twenty feet away. “He’s trying mighty hard to act like he’s not watching what’s going on over here.”
Connor hadn’t yet heard back from Shields. “He was standing out front until we came back here. Anyone think that’s a coincidence?”
“Hell, no,” Jones said. “Want me to pull him aside and start asking questions?”
“Just keep an eye on him.”
He shot them furtive glances, as if he knew they were talking about him.
Shanti stepped out of the latrine, washed her hands at a public sink. “I wonder what happened to my one o’clock. Maybe Pauline—”
The guy in the maroon shirt made a run for Shanti.
Jones thrust her behind him, covering her.
Connor dropped the suspect in a single move, pressed a knee to his lower back and a hand to the back of his neck. “Cuff him!”
The man cried out, struggled, pleading with them in a language Connor didn’t understand. Cruz pulled a plastic zip-tie restraint from his belt and bound the bastard’s wrists together.
Connor stood, dragged the man to his feet. “Search him.”
Cruz patted him down. “There’s nothing on him but this cell phone.”
“You take! You take!” The man motioned for Shanti to take his phone.
Connor got into the man’s face. “She doesn’t want your phone.”
“Take!” The man looked straight at Shanti. “Jafor Ahammed! Friend.”
“Put the phone back in his pocket—if he has a pocket—and call camp security.”
“Wait!” Shanti stepped closer. “Jafor Ahammed?Tuáñr nam ki?”
Connor had no idea what she was saying, but the suspect quit struggling.
He replied in his own language.
“He’s trying to tell me something about Jafor Ahammed, my one o’clock appointment. I need Noor.”
“You want me to bring him inside?”
A delicate eyebrow arched. “Unless you think you can’t handle him…”
Jones chuckled. “I think we’ve just been insulted.”
“Did you hear what she just said?” Cruz said, a big stupid grin on his face. “We can handle this skinny dude.”
“Fine.” Holding tightly to the suspect, Connor followed her back inside.
“He says he is Rafique Halad,”Noor said. “He is a friend of Jafor Ahammed.”
“Please thank Mr. Halad for coming to talk with me about his friend. Does he know where Mr. Ahammed is?” Shanti hoped Ahammed wasn’t backing out.
But Rafique was speaking at the same time, words pouring out of him, an urgent and frightened expression on his face.
Noor held up her hands for silence, then spoke to Rafique again. “He says Jafor has gone missing and that the phone belongs to him.”