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“Yes.” She frowned. “How you know this?”
“I got the skinny from a helpful Russian.”
“The guy who met you and Davila at the airport?”
John nodded. “Apparently, lithium is the new gold in these parts and why the Taliban are hot to get that road finished.”
Driver, still frowning: “But why wereyouinterested, Shahida? Why was Mac?”
“Or Meeks and Flowers.” When Driver glanced his way, John said, “You can’t honestly believe they aren’t all here for the same reason, and I bet it’s not for the lithium.”
“I no care about rocks.” Shahida’s upper lip curled. “I come for my boys.”
“Your boys?” John echoed at the same moment that Driver said, “Wait, the kids you brought at the last second? The ones you and Musa were driving back before you up and vanished? Why would the boys behere?”
The woman opened her mouth, but the boy, Poya, beat her to it. “Boys are small. They fit into places men can’t. It’s why there are no boys here.”
“You’rehere,” Driver said.
John opened his mouth then as quickly shut it. Having already examined the boy, in private, he knew exactly why Poya was still here. There were things that could be fixed or which would heal. The gash in his mouth from that slap wasn’t serious. The problem with his left eye…okay, he could see how that would freak out just about anyone, but surgery might help quite a bit. As for the rest…Poya was entitled to keep that secret for as long as possible.
Especially here. Until we finish this. Then we figure something out.
So, aloud, John said, “I think he meantotherolder boys. Isn’t that right, Poya?”
Their gazes locked, and John saw in that instant that Poya understood: John would keep his secret.
“Yes.” The tension bled from the kid’s features. “Thank you. That is what I meant.”
“So?” Driver looked perplexed. “Why is that important?”
“Because the math doesn’t work,” Poya said. “The other children are all young.”
“Math?”
“Yes. I noticed this right away when I got here. It’swhyI’m here. Amu has a son named Hamzad. I think he’s…” The boy pointed heavenward. “There. At the mine.”
“And were you before you came here?” John asked.
“Sarhad. I went there with my mother to meet…” Poya paused, his head moving almost imperceptibly toward the shyrdak.
Oh, my God.John felt a sudden flash of intuition.Poya knows who he is.
“My mother said she was going to get help.” A pause. “I don’t know what happened. She never came back.” Poya let go of a long breath, the way a parent might tell a child to get rid of the bad. “But that is not the important thing now. The mine is.”
“This is what I try telling them,” Shahida said.
“Yes,” Poya said. “The math doesn’t lie.”
“What do you mean, math?” Driver asked.
“There are eight families in Amu’s clan. Twenty-one are adults,” Poya said. “Sixteen are couples who can still have children.”
“So?”
“No, he’s right,” John said. “Poya’s talking probabilities and averages.”
Poya nodded. “The clan has thirteen children. But only two are boys and they are young, under ten years old. The math is wrong. People marry young here, and they have children right away. Usually as many as they can. Four, five, six. Amu had five. His mother-in-law, Bas, had seven. Many mothers die and children die, too. That is what happened to Amu’s wife and most of their children are dead. Bas had three boys and four girls, but they are all dead now, too.” Poya gave them all an expectant look. “But do you see it? The problem?”