"I do not know. I think not. I was told that the sergeant who is at the house is a Loni."

"A Loni? Are you sure he is not a Hausa? Hausa do those sort of things."

"I know Hausa from Loni," said Walla. "He is a Loni."

"A Loni who is a sergeant. That is very important," the cook said.

"It is worth gold?" Walla asked.

The cook shook his head. "The Americans do not know Loni from Hausa and could not care less that a Loni has reached a sergeant's rank in Busati's army. Do you have anything on the women in the house?"

"They never come out alive."

The cook shrugged a so-what shrug.

"I know a name. It was told to me by a fellow of our village who worked at the airport. I remember it because it was like Lippincott's name."

"Her name was Lippincott?" the cook asked.

"No. Forsythe. Lippincott had a Forsythe in his name. My friend said he saw her being taken from a plane to a car. She screamed who she was, and then was dragged into the car. She said she was Cynthia Forsythe of Baltimore."

"What did she look like?"

"White," Walla said.

"Yes, but what kind of white? All whites do not look alike."

"I know that," said Walla. "Our friend said she had hair of flame."

The cook thought about this and did not respond immediately. Instead he began chopping vegetables for dinner. When he had finished shredding long green leaves, he snapped his fingers.

"Eighteen thousand dollars. Gold," he said.

"Eighteen thousand dollars?" asked Walla, astounded.

The cook nodded. "That is what we ask for. We settle for fifteen." And he told Walla to withhold the name of the girl until he got the money, but to mention Lippincott's name quickly to make sure he got the money. He explained that the man he would introduce Walla to was J. Gordon Dalton, who was some kind of a spy. He would offer Walla ten dollars or twenty dollars, whereupon Walla should get up to leave, and then Dalton would pay the fifteen thousand.