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the horizon. Now and then it emitted a deep rumble, a drumbeat more felt than heard.
    He found himself thinking back to his last assignment, rescuing a group of Americans and an Iraqi who had been abducted in Baghdad. He recalled another dark-haired lady, with flashing eyes and a beautiful daughter and a heart big as the desert sky. Marc did not miss her so much as wish he had been ready to give what she had hoped to receive. But in the weeks that had followed his departure from Baghdad, he had come to realize he was not yet ready to love another woman. He no longer ached with the loss of his own wife. But as he sat and watched the Kenyan night envelop the gathering, he offered a silent prayer, asking God if he was ever meant to love again.
    When the service ended, Marc waited until the last villager departed before approaching Charles. “I need to ask your help once more.”
    â€œLet me remove my robes, and I am ready.” The service’s formal tone remained in his voice. “Are you a believer?”
    â€œI am.”
    â€œThen we are joined by more than concern for the people of this camp, yes?”
    In the candle’s dim glow, Charles resembled a mystic from some ancient age, only partly connected to the harsher realities of here and now. “I’d like to think so.”
    Sergeant Kamal chose that moment to emerge from the shadows. Charles listened to the man’s rough burr, then translated, “The sergeant says he has a problem and hopes you can help.”
    â€œIf I can, I will.”
    The pastor motioned them into the second pew. Marc seated himself next to Kamal while Charles slipped the white robes over his head and carefully folded them. His black T-shirt was stained with sweat. Marc asked, “Would it be impolite to ask how a sergeant commands a camp’s guard?”
    Charles seated himself so his legs extended into the aisle and he could face them. He spoke swiftly, then translated Kamal’s response, “There were a captain and two lieutenants. All had families housed in the UN military compound on the volcano’s eastern slope. They left to get their families to safety. They have not returned.”
    â€œHis men are fortunate to have Kamal.”
    â€œAs is the camp,” Charles agreed.
    Kamal nodded his thanks for the compliment and then launched into a longer discussion, which Charles translated, “He needs more men. Right now he has enough to patrol the central compound only. He keeps two men on the main gate, but otherwise the camp is not secure. The elders cannot maintain order in the camp without soldiers to give strength to their words.”
    â€œHow many more does he need?”
    Kamal responded before Charles had completed his translation. “Ten for perimeter patrol. Twenty for the camp. Split into units of five.”
    â€œI’ll see what I can do.” When Kamal started to rise, Marc said, “We have another problem, one that cannot wait.”
    As Marc described his discussion with the elders about the dangers the women are facing, Kamal’s features took on a bitter cast. He replied, “We have suspected this. But without more support, there is little we can do.”
    Marc said, “I have a plan.”
    Marc used the rudimentary shower, then dressed once more in the same sweat-stained clothes. He selected an empty bunk in the men’s chamber, stowing his carryall in the trunk at the bed’s foot. A lone ceiling bulb burned midway down the central aisle. Five ceiling fans drifted in lazy circles. Marc pulled the mosquito net around his bed and lay down. He could smell the bitter odor of disinfectant and hear bugs strike the screen by his head. In the distance, the generator chugged. Gradually the day’s tension released him. He watched the fan’s lazy orbit until he fell asleep.
    The night was strong and black when Kamal touched his shoulder. Marc slipped from the bed and followed him from the