“You’re out on a limb here Senel,” Meryl said from his office chair, observing me across his desk.

“Yes sir,” I said. “But it’s not like we have any other leads.”

Meryl tapped a pen on the edge of a notepad. “You really think this Bract character is going to help us?”

“I do,” I said, more confidently than I felt. Part of me feared we would show up at the meeting place only to find that Bract had fled the area never to be seen again.

“This could be mighty dangerous. I mean, our boys have had problems with these nomads in the small camps. If we’re really talking 300 people, that could be a recipe for disaster.”

“I know.” I glanced at Oak, who was looking resolute. To her credit, she hadn’t baulked at the idea of walking into a nomad camp without hardly any preparations. “We’ll be careful.”

“You’ll be armed is what you’ll be,” Meryl said. “Both of you, guns and suppression batons as well. I just hope you don’t have to use them.”

As the sun set that evening, we headed to the meeting spot, eating left over subs from earlier that day.

“Are you ok?” I asked Oak.

“Yeah,” she said, with only slight hesitancy in her tone.

“Listen, if anything goes bad, you get out of there an I’ll cover you.”

“No need to be chivalrous, Senel. I can handle myself.”

“All the same, this is my idea, and I don’t want to put you in danger.”

“We’re cops, incase you hadn’t noticed. Kinda in the job description.”

I smiled. We pulled off the side of the road and watched the sun set off to our left. Nervously I gazed around, hoping to see Bract approaching as the evening began to darken.

“What if he doesn’t show?” Oak asked.

“He’ll be here,” I said vaguely. Ten minutes later I was forming a contingency plan in my head when a light tap came on my window. I rolled it down to find Bract there, still easily visible in the orange hue of the diminishing sunset.

“Hop in,” I said, indicating the backseat.

He did so and I pulled away.

“Hungry?” Oak asked, handing him a sub.

Bract took the food and began to eat ravenously.

“I’m Inspector Oak by the way,” Oak said.

“Bract. Nice to meet you,” Bract said.

“So, what’s the plan here?” Oak said as we made our way through the end of Wiggins and off onto the highway leading towards the camp.

I glanced at Bract in the rearview mirror. “Well, Mr. Bract here has kindly agreed to help us find who might be in charge of the camp. After we figure that out, we go speak with them and see if we can find this Kasepo group. It’s one of their daughters Lysha that was taken. We question them as much as we can. See if anything falls into place.”

“That sounds straightforward,” Oak said doubtfully. “Do we think it’s really going to be that easy?”

“No,” Bract said before I could reply. He swallowed the last bite of his sub, wiped his mouth and continued, “if the chief even agrees to talk to you, there’s no guarantee he will lead you to the Kasepo group. And if he does, there’s no guarantee they will talk with you. And other people might not like you and decide to harass you.”

“And don’t nomads speak a different language? How are we supposed to talk with them?” Oak pointed out.

I hadn’t overlooked this detail, but I had been hoping to have a better bargaining chip when it came up. There were only so many favors a hunting permit could buy. I waited for a moment, but I could see Bract wasn’t going to volunteer. So I said, “Mr. Bract, you’re doing a lot for us as it is. Your cooperation is much appreciated. Is there any chance, you might help to translate a few things for us?”

Bract’s beard budged out. I could tell he wasn’t thrilled with the idea.

“I would be willing to help a bit,” he said finally. “And most people know a little English, especially the younger ones, so you should have enough words in common if you keep it simple.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bract. I apologize that I can’t compensate you for your service.”

“I can work for sandwiches,” he suggested, eyeing the remaining subs in the box next to Oak.

She snorted and handed him the lot of them. A few minutes later we turned off onto the nation forest road. I referred to my notepad where I had jotted down the directions and we wound through the darkening trees.

“Don’t park too close,” Bract suggest. “We should walk in, it will be better.”

“Ok,” I said. When I felt we were pretty close, I pulled off, turned the vehicle so that it was facing out in case we needed a fast escape, and killed the engine and lights. We exited and I led the way down the road to the edge of the clearing. It was well lit by everything from campfires to lamps to flashlight hung from tree branches and headlamps.

I glanced at the other two, then nodded and started to move into the camp. The light was low enough that we didn’t make much of a scene at first. Bract took the lead and we moved down the line of shanties. At last, as a few curious gazed started to turn more direct, Bract walked up to a tall fatherly looking man and asked him something. The man’s eyes moved off of Bract and onto us. For a moment, it looked like he was going to refuse to help us. Then he shrugged and turned, giving Bract some instruction and pointing somewhere down the line. Bract nodded and turned to us.

“He says the chief is down in the white and green RV. He might know of the Kasepo group.”

We moved off, keeping to the edges of the light. Here and there, the scent of food wafted and laughter broke out. One group we saw was passing what looked like large ceramic jug around. Another group was scrubbing large iron cast pots, copper pots and tupperwares in an old bathtub as a sink. We halted before a large white and green RV where a group of men was sitting around a campfire. Bract motioned us to wait on the edge of the light while he moved forwards. He got the men’s attention and spoke with a few of them for a moment. Then he motioned at us to come forwards. A large brick of a man walked forwards to meet us, his dark hair graying in age, the lines of his face etched in suspicion.

Stolen novel; please report.

“This is Carido, he is the chief of this camp,” Bract announced.

“Mr. Carido, it is good to meet you,” I said, not certain if he could understand me or not. “I am Detective Inspector Senel, and this is Inspector Oak.”

Carido’s eyes narrowed perceptibly. “You are more cops?” he asked in cool clipped English.

“We work on the force yes. But we are not here to disturb your place of living or to disturb any of your people. We are merely looking for one family who may have come here. To ask some questions only. A Kasepo family.”

Carido’s face slackened in to what felt more like curiosity. He turned back to Bract and spoke to him for a few moments while we waited, smiling awkwardly at the other men behind Carido, who were glaring us down.

Finally Carido turned back to us. “We are mostly Iero families here. But some have joined us from other tribes for the safety in numbers. There is a Kasepo family who come a few weeks ago.”

“Are they still here? May we speak with them?”

Carido shrugged. “Don’t know them well. They are parked at the very end with some of the other tribes.”

He gestured down the way. I looked in that direction and nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Carido.”

Carido’s eyes crunched in a frown. “You are not welcome here, cops. Please finish your business and leave.”

“We understand,” I said as Bract spoke a few last words to Carido and then the three of us departed.

“Well that went well all things considered,” Oak muttered.

I nodded, though it didn’t stop me from checking behind us periodically as we moved down to the end of the camp. I didn’t much like that this was to take place at the end furthest from our car. But there was nothing for it. We moved down the line, squinting in at the camps. Finally Bract nodded to a group situated a little apart from the others. About 5 vehicles with trailers were circled up around a little fire. They were families, with a few kids here and there. Bract moved forwards first, calling a greeting and moving into the light. Several of the Kasepo folk appeared to recognize him and got to their feet. There was some conversation for a time, which broke off immediately when Bract waved his hand back at us. He had apparently gotten to the heart of the matter. Then one of the men exclaimed loudly and began shaking his head at us. Several other of the men began to bristle as well.

Bract glanced back at us with a warning glint in his eyes and redoubled his negotiating effort. His speech, combined with that of the men, was quickly growing louder. I tensed, intending to seize Oak and move away if anything started to go bad. And then a new voice entered the fray. A woman looking in her later thirties had stood up and called out. All the men felt silent. She declared something loudly and then walked forward towards us, beckoning us a little closer to the light. I nudged Oak forwards ahead of me, feeling this might be a prudent time for a fellow woman to speak. Oak seemed to get the idea because she moved up close to the woman, who said, “you are cops who find for missing kids?”

“Yes,” Oak said, apparently deciding to keep it simple. “My name is Oak, this is Senel. Who are you?”

“My name is Shira. My daughter is Lysha.” At the mention of the missing girl’s name, I could feel the sudden weight enter her voice.

Oak reached out and placed a hand on the woman’s arm in comfort. The gesture seemed to create a mixture of tension and alarm by the men behind her but Shira merely sniffed and patted her hand in return.

“Please tell us what happened to Lysha. We will try to find her,” Oak said slowly and clearly.

The woman sniffed louder and nodded. “She helps gather the water from the spring at camp. She walks into the woods with the jugs. She goes, but not come back. We think she is lost for the woods and we go look for her. We look for a long time. We find only the jugs. The water pour from them. We not find her. But this.”

With a trembling hand, she reached into a pocket at her bosom and pulled something out. We leaned in to see a bracelet sized for a child, made of what was unmistakably old matted dandelions. I could have laughed at the coincidence, had the situation not been so solemn.

“Someone take her!” Shira cried, a tear running down the side of her cheek.

“Do you know why she was taken?”

Shira dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, shaking her head. I looked up to observe the men and women behind her, all of whom were looking grave and uncomfortable.

“Does anyone have any idea why Lysha was taken?”

Some of the men glanced at each other, some of the women shook their heads slowly. I ground my teeth. We were getting nowhere here.

“Did anyone see anything the day Lysha was taken? Anything strange? Not normal?”

One of the men gestured to Bract. “He come to camp.”

“We know Bract came that day, but we don’t think he took Lysha. Was there anything else?”

Blank looks all around. I hesitated, not wanting to offend in an area I had scant knowledge of.

“Are there any rivalries in your group? Any debts to be paid? Any crimes?”

Confused looks came about and Bract quickly translated. The moment the group understood what was being asked, the atmosphere darkened perceptibly. As I had feared, the question seemed to offend. There were angry mutters and exclamations in their own language.

“We are good Kasepo, we not make trouble!” one man called.

“You accuse us!” another said, to a low roar of agreement.

This was starting to turn sour. I looked at Bract, who shook his head very slightly.

“I do not mean to offend,” I called into the group, but my voice did not appear to carry far enough.

We began to back up. Bract spoke placatingly as the Kasepo began to grow louder. Now others from different camps were starting to get interested as well. Bad news.

“We go,” Bract said tightly and I nodded.

Just then, Oak, pulled me to a stop. She was looking at something further past where the Kasepo camp was. I followed her gaze and saw what looked like a teenage boy starting at us shiftily. It was difficult to see him in the half light but he looked like he was waving in our direction. I hesitated for a moment and then beelined for him under the cover of the darkness outside the camp. The moment we were close, he motioned us towards a clump of trees a little ways away.

“We go,” Bract urged again, looking around.

“Wait,” I said. “Just a few more minutes.”

“You a cop?” the boy asked suddenly.

“Yes, we are cops,” Oak said. “Who are you?”

“Nilo. Lysha is my sister.”

“Nilo, do you know something about what happened to Lysha?”

Nilo seemed partly spooked partly desperate. “No. Well, I don’t know. I want to help her, if she is still alive.”

His despair that Lysha might already be dead unsettled me, but I dug in. “You can tell us what it is, you won’t be in trouble.”

Nilo dithered for a moment longer before gasping out, “it’s the cars. And the trailers. We get them but not pay for all of them. When we get them, he say we pay him back like this, we work for the debt, but we don’t work. We go into the woods to camp. We not think he find for us.”

“When did this happen?” I asked, struggling to comprehend the event.

“In kurithto,” he said, turning to Bract to help translate.

“This is like May,” Bract suggested.

“Where did you get these cars and trailers?”

“In the Gransu.”

“Gransu, what is that?” I asked.

“The borderlands camps,” Bract answered. “Many, many people come to the Gransu after they first get over the border. They can get supplies there for their new lives in this country.”

“Ok, so your family took the cars and trailers and left without paying. Who did you get them from?”

“There is a man who sell them for trade.”

“What sort of trade?”

“Working. He takes them for working.”

“What sort of working?”

“I don’t know. We hear bad rumors after we get the cars and trailers. That is why we run away. People saying he have bad jobs.”

“What bad jobs?”

“Like, with the drugs. He make you sell the drugs, or clean the drugs, then they get arrested and he is staying safe while our people go to prison.”

A chill slid down in the pit of my stomach.

“What is his name, Nilo? This man with the bad jobs?” I asked.

Nilo shook his head. “I meet him only once, when we go look at the cars.”

“What is his name?”

“He call himself Ulug.”

My heart rate quickened. Coul it really be?

“Can you describe him?”

“Light skin, tall like, dark hair, lots of pictures on his arms and hands.”

I let out a long breath, staring at Nilo. I started to ask him more, but at that moment, a call went up from the camp behind us. Nilo jerked his head around. “I go. Please find Lysha!”

With that he flitted away through the trees and disappeared.